Geronimo Charge

(this post also appears as a comment to the January 24, 2007 post)

LizzyP said...

And what about the geronimo charge? Wasn't that in Coalville?

ronny said...

Yes, it was. We lived in a small community outside of Coalville known as Dog Holler.

The story I was told behind the name "Dog Holler" is that a long time ago, a milk truck crashed into the ditch that parallels Hoystville Rd. The contents were spilled, which attracted the local cats, and annoyed the (likely chained) local dogs, which made quite a noise. Hence, Dog Holler.

The first year we were there a huge corrugated pipe was lay in that very ditch between the road and our home. I would guess the pipe was at least 4 feet in diameter, perhaps larger, because I could walk through the pipe without problems when the stream was dry in the summer. The pipe was covered with dirt, and this served as our bridge/driveway, giving us immediate access to the road.

Sidenote: it was in this ditch that I found the dead snake that Dad let me put in a canning jar, but made me keep outside. He told me it would rot and stink. I didn't believe him, but it didn't take me long to be convinced, and I let him throw it away.

The bus would pick us up for school on the other side of the road, and so a crossing was necessary. I would walk down our driveway, to the top of the pipe/bridge, look both ways, and triumphantly yell GERONIMO CHARGE!!, with one fist in the air.

Apparently, I was excited to go to school.

Other Coalville topics to remember:
- the junkyard behind our house
- Embra's runt (Whitey)
- Bullets
- Finding homes for the puppies
- Camping with the Crittendons (Dad gets lost)
- Camping with the Scouts
- Cubs with Mom (not getting my way)
- rollerskating downstairs
- the mudcake/spanking incident

10:28 AM

Austin (first power windows)

One of our next door neighbors in Phoenix was a boy Aaron's age. His name was Austin. My memories of Austin are vague. I remember he had a visitor once - I think it was his grandfather, but I'm not sure. Whoever the visitor was, Austin showed us the most amazing thing - you could press buttons on the sides of the doors, and the windows would go up and down. We weren't allowed much time to play with them, but I guarantee, it would have entertained us all day long.

I remember that Austin's mother smoked. I think there was an embarrassing story about me telling her that smoking wasn't good for her. Maybe that was when Grandma Serpa visited, and I just associated it with Austin for some reason. I don't remember.

I don't really have many narrative memories from Phoenix, so I'll give you some trivial ones:

- Deborah attended first grade in Phoenix. Her mascot: the Dust Devils;
There was an older girl in the ward that was not quite totally deaf. I saw the pumpkin she carved for Halloween. She would turn the sound on the TV all the way up so she could hear. - - This would annoy her mother.
- Deborah wore nose plugs when she went swimming at a pool somewhere.
- Lots of people didn't have lawns, just rocks in their yard.
- I think we got Embra in Phoenix, but I'm not sure.
- We had a carport. I could run out of the house and run around the far wall of the carport to hide from Mom. This almost worked once.

Summit Elementary

In Coalville, Utah, there is only really one school.  Summit Elementary/Middle/High School.  That's how I remember it, at least.  I remember, because we shared the bus with some of the older kids on the way home.  One time, Michael (the kid with hairy arms who lived across the street and up the way from us) and I were mouthing off to one of the older kids.  He must have been in his early 20's, because he had a humongous adam's apple.  He didn't think our mouths were funny.  He told us if we ever messed with him again, he would spit on the floor of the bus and make the two of us lick it up.  

Ahhh, the fun things we remember from our childhood.

Other memories from Coalville:
- Dad shooting a squirrel with a deer rifle
- swim time at the pool / not the only fish in the water / Dad losing his wedding ring
- petting the cows across the street
- going swimming in the pond at the end of the stream
- Embra, the pig chaser
- Embra giving birth / June thinks she's a puppy
- Teresa Crittendon
- Killer gets what's coming to him
- the futility of kissing tag (still the fastest kid on the playground)
- not being nice to Gavin
- moon boots
- the Bird girl gets sprayed by a skunk
- Aaron in a brace

3-in-One: Riding Bikes in Montpelier

Summer time in Montpelier was a glorious time. As my memory serves, our favorite group activity was riding bikes around the neighborhood. I don't remember how old I was, but when I came of age, Dad took me down to the Coast-to-Coast hardware store and let me pick out a bike. I didn't get the one with mag-wheels because it was too expensive, but I got a BMX style blue bike with yellow trim, which served me well for many long years to come.

The best/closest place to ride bikes was near a small grove of trees across from the end of our street. There was a small grove of enormous Cottonwood trees adjacent to a field that seemed to be mostly fallow. This place was known as "Big Trees". There was a small dry stream bed and we would ride our bikes around the field and through the stream bed until a path was well worn. Because of the stream bed, there were at least two places in the path where an experienced rider could get some "air". We would mostly go as a group, taking turns to admire each other's performance and try to out do each other. Once I went there on my own, and there were two older girls using our path. I don't remember being annoyed with them being on our path. I distinctly remember how slowly they were going, getting no air at all, despite their amazement at their performance. On top of that, they were ignoring protocol by monopolizing the path. It was obvious enough to me that I was patiently waiting my turn, but as one girl waited for the other to complete the circuit, she would wait at the head of the trail, preventing me from getting access. The two took turns for a few loops, and eventually let me take a turn. As I rode past, I muttered to myself "Now it's my turn", intent on showing these girls how the course was really supposed to be ridden. As I started on my way, I heard one girls say to the other in disgust "Did you hear what he said?" I was mortified, and made my loop and then quickly proceeded home.

Another favorite place was a large dirt hill behind all of our cul-de-sacs and over nearer to the edge of town (as I remember it). If I remember correctly, there was a small path between the house across from us and the old-folks home. If not there, then at the end of the next street over. We only rode on this hill in the later years, as it was quite large, and Mother preferred that we not ride on it. I had made my way over one evening, and as it was getting dark, I began to head home. There was knee-high (or higher) grass on the sides of the path, and because it was twilight, it was difficult to see the path until the ground was right under the front wheel. I was hustling home as quickly as I could, and didn't see the large rock in the middle of the road until it was too late. I tried to turn out of the way, but my front wheel struck the rock, and the force twisted my handlebars around so that my left handle met my stomach full-force. The rock stopped the momentum of the bike, but not mine, and my entire weight was thrown into the left grip, now facing directly at my stomach. I remember that I was completely stopped mid-air, and sort of fell over onto the ground, not sure if I was going to be able to make it home, hoping it wasn't anything too serious. I guess it wasn't.

One thing that we only did occasionally was race our bikes. I don't know why, but perhaps this experience helped to contribute. We raced our bikes, three or four at a time, from our house (at the dead-end side of the street) to end of the road, with the finish line being the beginning of the intersection. The street wasn't too busy, but it was one of the main roads in town, so we stationed an observer at the finish line. The primary job was NOT to determine the winner, but rather to wait until traffic looked clear to start the race and to stop the race should any traffic be approaching. The observing duties were passed to one of the younger members of the group after some time, I seem to remember it was Aaron, but it very well could have been John Vermaas's younger brother (I don't remember his name). At any rate, the race finished, but bikes went into the crossroad, right as a car came by. It was a small town, and despite any effort on our part to disguise our identities, an older lady ended up at our front door to report our dangerous activities involving riding blind into cross traffic. I was amazed that Mom didn't understand that the blame rested squarely on the observer an no one else. We had obviously taken the necessary precautions in posting an observer. If they had only done their job, there would not have been any problem at all.

Montpelier topics for future posts:
- flying kites
- going to Peagram
- Shawn Lloyd
- Jason/Justin Smith and The Karate Kid
- Dustin Christensen and the garage door
- snow forts
- M-Hill at Christmas
- Aaron and Deborah's big spill
- re-building jumps

Turlock topics for future posts
- not getting paid to kiss Laurie Spencer
- Marco Polo
- observing C-Sections
- not driving Roger Lewis's new Lexus
- election convention
- Milton Hugues vs. Brian Wilkenson