Childhood illnesses I Have Survived

The Hawaiian people have an ancient tradition. They do not celebrate the birth of a child. Because of the high incidence of death among infants, the possibility of the newborn living long was not very good. They waited until the first birthday of each child to celebrate with a huge luau when the whole village welcomed the child with joy. If the child made it to the age of one, they felt, he would probably live to adulthood.

If I had lived in earlier generations, I probably would not have celebrated my first birthday. As a baby

I was in the hospital in Brigham City, very ill with pneumonia and was not expected to live. However, it was World War II, and the doctor got some penicillin for me and I recovered. Later as a toddler I had scarlet fever and was extremely ill; again penicillin saved my life.

I was quite healthy after that, but my two younger sisters (later even my third sister) had rheumatic fever; my one sister had it twice and had a heart murmur. She spent three months in beds, and had to be

carried to the bathroom. For years we treated her with cotton gloves, and she didn’t have to do family chores for fear it would be too much for her, and she’d hurt her heart.

But the Asian flu pandemic of 1956 hit everyone hard and I was no exception. I got sicker than a dog. I remember being so sick in bed, and just laying there. My bed was against the wall, and I’d rub my finger in a half-circle on the wall listlessly as I lay there feeling awful. Eventually the friction of my finger wore through the wallpaper to an undercoat of wallpaper, then an even lower level of wallpaper. I’d pick at the edges of the wallpaper and tear them away as I lay there. The lowest level of wallpaper had an unusual pattern—it looked like Nazi swastikas! 

I was beginning to feel better, so now I lay there in bed, I’d make up stories of how our house had been owned by American Nazis who had papered my room with the swastika wallpaper as they fought for Hitler. Each day I’d create a new adventure for them, but always they would be caught by the Americans and sent to prison, so eventually their house would be sold, my room papered over, and later we’d purchase it of course. 

Then I developed bronchitis, and coughed and coughed and coughed.  I had to have antibiotics—PILLS!!!! Unfortunately, I couldn’t swallow them. My mother tried everything to help me swallow them, but I’d choke on them, and couldn’t get them down. Finally my mother found a way I could get them down. She’d hide the pill inside a bite-size piece of canned peach, and I’d swallow it, and not even taste the pill inside. That was the way I swallowed the whole bottle of pills and started to get better. 

I can remember one day I was able to lie in my parents’ bedroom and I was finally hungry. Their room was the original room where the home had been started—100 years earlier. It was solid stone and cool in the summer; I felt so protected laying there. My mother was thrilled that I was getting back my appetite and bought me what I desired the most—a Milky Way Candy Bar. I ate it, savoring every bite. Then I got sick and threw up and threw up. I have never been able to eat a Milky Way Candy Bar since. Looking at them makes me want to throw up. 

I survived the Asian flu and when the Hong Kong flu came along in 1968, I had immunity and didn’t even get it.

In Memoriam: Elegy to an Automobile

 [This was written years ago when we were young and laughed at life]

 

 Betsy died violently in a raging inferno of fire. At her death, she was in the prime of her life, with another hundred thousand miles or more left in her. Betsy was far more than just a car; Betsy was a member of our family.

 

            To some people (specifically my husband), Betsy didn't look that elegant. She was just a small, brown, Datsun station wagon, but she fit my image. She was short, stocky and very square, but then I am too. She projected an image of solid, suburban matron-liness, but then so do I! She wasn't fast or showy, but she was steady and persistent—just like me!

           
             It took me 14 years, four kids and a Cub Scout den to convince my husband that I needed a car like Betsy--a station wagon. He thought it might tarnish his image as a dashing, young aviator to be seen in something so conservative. But after my husband bought a sporty Toyota Celica, (that couldn't hold the whole family, let alone our dog) he ran out of excuses and allowed me to adopt Betsy. He pretended that she was just visiting us! 

            Betsy was just what I wanted and I loved her dearly. She was good‑natured and dependable. She awakened quickly and easily every morning no matter how cold the weather or how early the hour; she was never cranky or obstinate. She never stranded me or quit unexpectedly, and she never ever ran out of gas for me. (She ran out of gas occasionally for my husband, when he had to drive her, but that was only because he didn't like her and she knew it).

           

Betsy was not flashy or glamorous, and yes, she showed her age despite a new wax job and new tires. But her dents were signs of character; her scratches were ribbons of valor.

            There was the gouge in the upholstery where Marc had tried to attack Athena and missed. There was the sagging spring in the back seat where my oldest son Marlowe always sat before he got his driver's license. (His name was written in indelible ink on the back of the seat, in case someone didn't realize that was his designated seat!) There was the rubbed spot from the infant car seat and there was the light cover that always fell off and hit you on the head if you slammed the door.

            But Betsy's imperfections only made her dearer to us. She maneuvered so nicely on rainy roads and took curves so sweetly. She didn't have a tiger in her tank, and yes, you had to encourage her when she was trying to pass another car, or when ascending a steep hill. But that was only to prevent us from missing the breath-taking scenery around us. She was just like the little train in children's story-books. We chanted "I think she can! I think she can!" all the way up the hill and cheer her all the way down! She always pulled through, somehow, but that may have been due to all our prayers in her behalf.

            Betsy drove us safely through blizzards in Nebraska; she joyfully took us home for Christmas and to family reunions. She scaled Mauna Kea's heights with aplomb and loved nothing better than running down to the beach in Hawaii. Most of all Betsy loved the Texas freeways with their peaceful rolling hills, and open spaces, yet she gladly gave them up for the two‑lane country roads of rural Alabama. Betsy was a real trouper!

            How do you tell your husband that your car has been incinerated? I tried, in vain, to think of a way to break the news to him gently.

            "Sweetheart, I fried our car."

            "Which do you want me to buy this week, a new car or a used car?"

            "You know how you never really cared for Betsy? Well, you don't have her to kick around any more."

Finally I chickened out! I left a message for him to meet me at the paint shop where Betsy had been getting a new paint job when the shop burned down cremating Betsy. I picked armfuls of wild flowers, and awaited his arrival. When he pulled up in a cloud of dust and a squeal of wheels, I was throwing the flowers on Betsy's funeral pyre and mournfully singing her praises. I don't care what my husband thought (or said); Betsy was a real lady and I'm glad she went out in a blaze of glory!

Movies, Movies, Movies

Movies are “The stuff that dreams are made of.” Wikipedia describes them in this way: “Films (movies) are cultural artifacts created by specific cultures, which reflect those cultures, and, in turn, affect them. Film is considered to be an important art form, a source of popular entertainment and a powerful method for educating– or indoctrinating– citizens. The visual elements of cinema give motion pictures a universal power of communication.”

Movies are different than theater in many ways (which I am not getting into) but I want to discuss how movies have touched my life. 

I have always lived in the age of movies. I remember as a teen one of the big attractions was going to the movie theater on Friday night to watch movies and get together. We would meet boys there and watch Elvis movies; we couldn’t date (I think I was in Junior High School), but I guess we were going together in a very informal way. Your "boyfriend" would ask you to "meet him at the movies on Friday night," and you were "going together"-- for that week, (actually that night), but it was exciting! I don’t recall I ever did that, but I knew many who did. 

The Bountiful Movie Theater that was big at that time was on Main Street right next to where Carr Stationery is (about 185 South Main). I don’t know when it closed down. There was another movie theater, the Queen Theater on 5^th South near where the Flower Patch Shop is now, but it wasn’t “the” place to go like the theater on Main Street. 

I always liked movies. I prefer comedies and romances, and some dramas. I

don’t like horror, sports, or cowboy movies. The movies I remember most from my early years were Roman Holiday, The Ten Commandments, Some Like it Hot, West Side Story, Sound of Music, the Manchurian Candidate, Lawrence of Arabia, A Hard Day’s Night, Dr. Zhivago, and all of Elvis Presley’s movies.

Some other of my all-time favorite movies are: Gone with the Wind, Indiana Jones and Star Wars movies, My Fair Lady and most musicals. 

Ed has never liked movies that much, so I recall right after we were married going to matinee movies by myself so I could see the movies I liked that I knew he would never go to with me. Ed would go to popular movies with the kids and me if it was really big. When it was my birthday or anniversary, I’d always ask him to take me to a movie because I’d much rather see a movie than go out to eat, and he would usually agree. 

I loved taking our kids to the movies; it was a good excuse to see a good movie. I did not like cartoons or animated movies!!!! But I would take my children to see animated movies and all children’s movies. I remember when my fifth and last child was young; I loved taking him to children’s movies because it was the only time I got to take a nap (while he watched the movie).

Ed started going to the movies with me a lot when we were in Los Angeles waiting for his lung transplant; we went to museums, events, and occasionally we would go to movies just to have something to do. Movies in L. A. were more an event than a movie—the one multi-screen theater we went to that was close to our apartment had some theaters with couches rather than seats and other theaters served wine in the evenings (to adult only shows). It was pretty posh. You could get free preview tickets to shows and they raffled off t-shirts and other items from the shows. We went to a preview of the movie Anonymous and we won some t-shirts.

While we lived in Los Angeles Ed did respiratory rehab with a famous agent, and other people in our ward worked in movies, so Ed & I got a mild case of “Academy Award” fever; people have Academy Award parties (though we didn’t go to any). You just can’t live in L. A. without becoming a movie fan—everywhere you look they are advertising movies, movies, movies. The Fox Studios were right on our street so we passed them every day, and one of our friends worked there. 

 When Diana and Jason came out to visit us in L. A., we got a map of the movie stars’ houses and drove around and looked at them. It was fun (even if I am not a big movie star fan). We even went to some of the movie star hangouts, but we never saw any stars, but then Bryan told me I wouldn’t recognize them if I’d seen them.

Bryan is our movie geek! He knows movies—who the actors were, and quotes

from the movies. It is not just because he got his Associates Degree in Film Production and studies movies intensely. He has always studied movies, their actors, their themes, etc. He amazes me that he knows actors, films, and so much about them. His taste is so different than mine also. He loves horror shows, sci-fi, psychological, and anything that is weird. His comedy is off-the-wall, but that is because he does improv. 

His favorite movie NOW (it changes by the day or week) is “Thor” and “Ender’s Game” (which I know many like), but you couldn’t pay me to see. Ed & I did see “The Saratov Approach” at a noon matinee last week—I liked it.

But the funniest thing was when I rented “Whitehouse Down” and Ed & I watched it. Bryan said, “You couldn’t like that movie, Mom—it is violent and action-packed and you don’t like that kind of movie.” I guess sometimes I can like something different. Even if Bryan doesn’t approve.