'67 - Summer of Love (2)

Something happened the year I turned 13. I got a crush on an older kid. He rode his bicycle past my house everyday that summer of '67, and I was smitten. I sat out on the front porch in the evenings and listened to the radio play the latest rock tunes. Early one evening, he rode his bike past the house and stopped across the street at the street corner. He called to me to come over to talk with him. I was so excited, and so scared. (What if he tried to kiss me?)

I left the security of the porch and strode across the lawn and the street to the corner, by the stop sign, where he stood with his bike, under the branches of the neighbor's tree. He had leaned his bicycle against their fence, and was waiting for me. His eyes were blue and his hair blonde, and I thought he was the best looking guy I had seen in a long time. I was nervous to be standing near him.

We made small talk, then he asked me what I was going to be doing the next few days. "We are leaving on vacation in the morning," I confessed, wondering if he would try to kiss me good-bye.
He didn't move closer, but wanted to know where I was going and how long I would be gone. (He must really like me, I thought.) Soon the conversation ended. I don't remember if I was called into the house, or if he had to go, but he took off on his bike, and I sauntered home -glowing, I think.

I finished packing and went to bed early, because we were leaving the next morning. I remember getting in the car, and wishing I didn't have to go. I wanted to stay. Just when things were getting interesting - I was off for Utah for three weeks. I laid in the backseat and stared up at the telephone poles outside the car window. The telephone lines went up one pole and swooped down to the next. Up and down, up and down, just like the emotions in my heart. I had been so encouraged, so excited, and now I was down, down, down.

I probably cried off and on, but disguising my sadness from the family. We were not the kind of family that showed our emotions. . .especially sorrow and disappointment. How could I stand the wait - 3 whole weeks - before I would see him again. It just wasn't fair!

I don't remember any of the particulars about that vacation, except that my cousins were out pacing me in their experiences. My cousin, LD, who was two years younger, told me about kissing boys behind some curtains at her school. Good grief! She just finished the 5th grade! Another cousin who lived in Las Vegas, and was a few months older than I was going to parties where there was a lot of drinking and older guys. I felt inexperienced, but safe. I was glad I didn't have to deal with such pressure.

I probably had a lot of fun on vacation despite my sorrow. LD and I usually went swimming at the public pool in Provo, shopping, and to the 4th of July parade and carnival. We were old enough now that we didn't need to stay with the family all the time, and were venturing out on our own more. At the swimming pool, there were always guys who like to show off for us, and that was a distraction from my beau back home.

Finally, the day came for us to load up and drive home. I couldn't wait to get there. I was excited to find out what the future would hold for this "biker-guy" and I. We arrived home, and as always, I sat out on the front porch in the evening. I waited, and waited for him to drive by on his bike. . .but he did not. The next day, or two or three, I rode my bike to the store, past his house, just for a glimpse of him. . .

For some reason, only known to young almost women, I thought I could impress him by making him think I could eat anything I wanted, and never gain weight. I would walk past his house eating ice cream from the Tall Pine, and then refuse to eat sweets at any other time. I made at least one trip past his house everyday. I was sure as soon as he saw I was back from vacation, that he would ride his bike past my house around sunset, and stop to talk - or call me over to the corner. . .but it was not to be. I don't think I saw him again that summer. And while I was entering 8th grade at Pinehurst in the fall, he would be going to High School in Kellogg.

Looking back, he may have obtained his driver's license while I was gone or found someone else older and more interesting, who wasn't going on vacation. Maybe he realized I was just a kid, and he was a young man. Regardless, our "love" was a short-lived. For several years, I blamed the end of it on an ill timed vacation.

Vacations (2)

A Long Trip

As I mentioned before, we only vacationed in Utah when I was growing up. In the early years, from the time my parents were married (in Sept of 1952) until the freeway was constructed (sometime in the 60s), the trip took 18 hours. Now my mom was young (16), when she married my dad, and was anxious to get "home" to see her parents and siblings. My dad told me they made 2 or 3 trips the first year, and even settled for a time in American Fork. Dad wasn't making as much money in Utah as he had in the mines of Northern Idaho, and they were really strapped for cash. He told me a story about that time, that ended with my mom saying she wanted to go back home. "Home?" my dad asked her, "Where is home?" "North Idaho." she replied, and they moved back to the place where I would be born and raised. I think Dad was relieved that mom trusted him to provide for her, even though they would not be living close to her "family."

How to travel with kids

When I was in grade school, the trip had shortened to a mere 14 hours, due to the sections of freeway that were built along the route. Mom would pack the "jockey box" full of lifesavers and such, to keep us occupied, and we would often play the "Alphabet Game" on the way down the road. When we were really young, we would leave around 1:00 am [not long after Dad came home from working "swing shift" (3-11pm)], so my sister and I would sleep the first 8-10 hours or so. This meant that there was less time of us saying, "How much longer until we're there?"

The usual route & music – or lack thereof

Most of the time, we left No. Idaho - heading East on Interstate 90 [Old US 10]. After we came out of the mountains, there were fields of cattle here and there in Montana. When R was really little, she called them kitty-cows, and I thought that was really funny. Usually, we turned South just outside of Butte, MT, and travelled I-15 [old US 91] all the way to Provo, UT.

In the 60s, much of the road was still 2 lanes, and nearly all the radio stations in Montana (that we could pick up) were AM stations that played Country music. (I hated Country music - and if you have ever heard early Country - you may have had the same feelings.) Most of the time, we couldn't get any music on the radio - or what we did pick up was full of static (or static-y, as we would call it.)

I didn’t care much for sagebrush scenery, and from Butte south, that’s about all you see until you reach the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. I certainly got my fill of Country music and sagebrush on the trip. (For this reason, as soon as I was old enough, I would bring numerous books to read, puzzle books to play with, and my all time favorite summer treat: Summer Weekly Reader! I loved the games and puzzles in there and there was always something interesting to read about.

The longest stretch

In the days of the two lane road, the longest stretch of road was between Dubois and Roberts, because there were no turns or distinguishing landmarks. One trip when I was about 5-7 yrs old, we hit that stretch late at night. Mom had decided to climb in the backseat and sleep and I climbed into the front seat to keep my dad awake. He suggested we count the number of dead jackrabbits on the road. I don't know how many we saw (and there were a lot), but I do remember the feelings of importance I had in talking to my dad and keeping him awake along that stretch of road.

Favorite Eating Places

My parents had some favorite places to stop and eat along the way. If we were going through Butte, we often stopped in Deer Lodge, and ate breakfast at a restaurant kitty-corner from the Old Prison - (which was still being used at that time). I was fascinated by the stone structure with its guard walks and turrets, but I was always nervous that someone might escape when we were there.

For lunch, we'd stop at Doc's on Broadway in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Although the restaurant was no longer there, the building was still standing when my husband and I moved to town 16 yrs ago. Recently, the building was torn down. It was located somewhere near the new Wendy's and the road beside it are located on Broadway, across from Boozer's truck stop. Dad thought it was pretty cool when the freeway went in, because we could take the Broadway exit, go about one block to Doc's to eat and get right back on the freeway. Our third stopping place was in Tremonton, Ut. We'd go to a little cafe on the main drag as we passed through town. It seems to me, the place there was named after some bears. . . or there was a sign with bears on it, but I can't remember the name.