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passing up our busy street would pause, pat him on the head, and say, " O h , isn't she sweet!" The rest of us would inform that person, in no uncertain terms, that he was a boy. We would then go into our "slow b u r n . " Finally, Dad could stand it no longer and gave Karl a haircut, much to the relief of the rest of the family. M o m pleaded and wept to no avail. This was something that just had to be done—one of the few times I know of that Dad overruled Mom. It wasn't that he kowtowed to her, rather that in most things he gave her total support. Another incident concerns Tony, "the last of the last," as he likes to call himself. When he was born the older boys and I decided that things had gone far enough. The time had come to take positive action. We held a council in the adjoining bedroom. I was elected speaker. Into our parents' bedroom we trouped. I led, followed by Bob, Grant, and Clare. We lined up at the bedside, and after several moments of foot shuffling and "ahem-ing" I launched into my speech as I had been instructed by Bob and Grant. It went something like this, "Now look here, Mom, the town is starting to talk about when you and Dad are going to stop having kids. It is becoming almost a scandal. We hear whispers everywhere we go. Besides that W E think we have got all the family we need. We don't want any more brothers and sisters. Enough is enough! We are asking you to cease and desist." My lecture, along with the back-up I had, must have been effective; at least they never had any more kids. M o m was very inclined to motion sickness, and Dad was far from the best driver in the world. One could say he was probably among the worst. He maintained car speed by alternately floorboarding and releasing the accelerator. This kept all of the occupants in the car in a constant state of flux. Mom would be deathly sick within ten miles and would remain so throughout the trip, no matter how far. She lived in dread from one trip to the next. As a result, she adamantly refused to learn to drive and really enjoyed bus travel. M o m thought it was really nice when one of us young fellows would drive her someplace, because she didn't get sick when we drove. After Dad died, however, Mom decided it was time for her to learn to drive a car. She was firmly convinced that she could learn to do anything anyone else could learn to do. Now, in the autumn of her years, she coerced me into taking her out on a deserted stretch of road on the Arizona Strip. There she tried her hand at driving a couple of times. Her hand wasn't all that good! She didn't wreck the car, but she did manage to scare the heck out of me. For a short time I actually took

Profile for Utah State History

Utah Historical Quarterly, Volume 55, Number 3, 1987  

Utah Historical Quarterly, Volume 55, Number 3, 1987  

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