- This past Sunday the speaker told a story about her dad making her a play house. This had me thinking about when my dad built a play house for my sister and me. This wasn't just any play house. No, this was a matching miniature house of own house. I remember my dad and his friend Sparky or Sporty or something like that would measure and cut and drill this house. It was painted such a pretty pale peach color that matched our big house's siding. It came complete with a white porch, a mailbox with our names on it and even a sliding window! We had desks, a table and chairs, a mini kitchenette, plastic food and even a broom and dustpan. I remember playing in this house in the heat of summer when I sticky sheen of sweat would cling to our skin inside the house, but it was a small price to pay for such a magnificent house. Today it functions more as a storage shed since my sisters and I have grown old, and I don't know if my dad knows how much I loved that house he built for us just because he loved us.
- It seems that a lot of my favorite memories consists of building things. One late fall we stated building "the facilities." We remodeled the squeeze chute, alley way, watering hole and other corrals around. It was and is still to this day one of the better alley ways every built in the Bear Lake valley. It has a side walk on the side so you can easily walk on it above the cows' backs and have easy access to hot shots and such. There's gates behind the shiny, red chute that inter lock to make it easy to get behind cows. They corrals or funneled to make it easy to herd the cows, the gates are all perfectly hung a foot or so off the ground so they don't drag but calves don't get out. There's gates that have solid wood panels on the front with a hole to dead bolt it from the other side; there's horseshoe hooks that make it easy to shut the big wooden gate that it is handmade. Everything is made with solid wood that's backed by railroad ties and lag bolts. These lags I remember the most. It was during an early snowfall that I was huddled down in the bucket of the skid steer as I threaded washers onto lags. One after another until I finished the boxes. But it didn't matter, because I was so proud (and still am today) of "the facilities" I helped my dad build.
- I was so not happy with my little brother's appearence into my life. When my mom told us she was pregnant I cried and cried. I locked myself in my bedroom and wouldn't come out all Sunday afternoon. This wasn't just because I didn't want to surrender my last child baby status, but because he was a boy. I just knew my dad would love him more because he was a boy. With a family of 4 girls I'm sure my dad wished for some manly relief from all the pigtails and pink, but, to me, a new baby brother meant I wasn't going to be my dad's little buddy anymore. I remember my dad coming into my room and telling me that it didn't matter if we had a little boy, I would always be his favorite, and I am pretty sure that still stands. :)
- Along with the torment of having a brother, there was the torment of naming him. My mom kept a list of names like Cade and Kyle and others on the fridge, but nothing seemed to fit. My sister, Dayna, my dad and I were lying on my bed talking about what it would be like to have a baby brother when my dad suggested the name Theron. He explained how Theron Godfrey was, and why he wanted to name my baby brother after him. It just seemed to fit, and I'll always remember my dad explaining why he picked this name.
Love, your favorite daughter
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