Written by herself - 17 October 1952
I have always (?) had a good memory. It was years before I realized I couldn’t remember the day of my birth 27 Mar 1901. Mother has a great proclivity for telling stories. She had made this story so real I co uld see every word of it. Frances (born 20 Nov. 1898) was about 2½ years old and was taken to Aunt Laura’s house across the street at the time of my birth. Morning came, and Francis was brought home to see his baby sister. Father took me from where I lay beside Mother, wrapped in the black and white shepherd checked English shawl, and proceeded to show my fat red face to my happy, excited brother. The knowledge of his presence made me open my eyes to see into what family I had so recently been brought. Francis said, “Oh, Papa , it’s got its eyes oken!” I fancy yet that I can see his happy little face and hear him say the words. I can’t remember whether I approved of him, our house, or mother or father; but I was very contented and happy t o stay. In my patriarchal blessing I am told I had a right to choose my parentage and dispensation. It’s no wonder that life has been so kind to me, and as spirits we must have a keen sense of right. Surely I chose the right parents.
I was the oldest granddaughter of Zachaiah, Jr. and Emma Decker, so I received a lot of attention from Aunt Connie, Aunt Daphne and Uncles Alvin and Silas. Aunt Connie was a fine seamstress. She was just Mother’s age and she made dresses for me, even hats. It must have been my second birthday. She brought me a tall steeple crown hat of white straw, trimmed with sheer blue veiling ande blue flowers. From our living room to the kitchen was a setp. I sat on this step and sang because of my new hat.
I was two, lacking three days, when Lorenzo was born 24 Mar 1903. He was my pal. He would play house with me and let me dress him up in skirts and Mother’s old blouse. One blouse that was the envy of all my girl friends was a blueish purple, checked raggeta, trimmed with black lace. It had belonged to Mother’s trousseau, but she didn’t like it; and as the years went on, it got too small for her, so she let me wear it on rare occasions.
When I was three I had diphtheria. Mother let me hold her precious wax doll as a bribe for letting her swab my throat. She put that lovely doll with real hair, the only real doll she had ever had, out in the wood pile to air so the hot Arizona sun could kill all diphtheria germs. One day, in an apron full of wood chips, she brought the doll in under the chips. Being distracted, she emptied her load right from her apron to the fireplace. The doll fell on top! I was sitting near and saw the doll, then saw the chips catch into a raging fire with Mother’s beautiful doll in the midst! Years afterwards, Aunt Connie read aloud a story of a Viking funeral. The body was placed in his ship, flowers, vines and garlands of evergreens placed thereon and into the midnight sun the fired ship went, his soul flyingto heaven. Mother’s wax doll had such a burial.
Alma Virgil was born 30 Dec. 1904. He is my third brother, fourth cild of my parents. He was always a very quiet child. Francis, Lorenzo and I were far noisier but Alma was obedient, quiet and reserved. The baby was expected to arrive before Christmas, so father sayed at home just as long as he could. But the sheep needed him and he needed to get a load of wood for us to use for heat and cooking. I wonder why things happen that way.
Father had just gone and then that big baby decided to get born. He weighed 12 ½ lbs. Mother gbot sick in the nightand went to our neighbors, the Palmers. While she was there she had such terrible pains that she had difficulty getting home. Brother Palmer got the midwife, Sister Mary Standiford and the little fellow got born safely. Father came home that evening. It was dark and he had a big, high load of wood. Mother had instructed us not to tell Daddy. Well I didn’t tell. I only ran to the kitchen door near where Father was undoing the team from the wagon. All I said was, “Hello Papa, guyess what we’ve got? Father was young and active. He took the neck yoke off. “ I guess it’s a donkey. No? Then it’s a little kitten?” “No,”I cried, just bursting with joy. “It’s little and it’s by Mothyer and it cries!” Father let go of the horses and came running into the house. He kissed me hurriedly as he passed and went straight to Mother’s bed to greet his big new son. He held Mother’s hand for a moment, then took that little bundle, in the same black and shite English wool shawl that I had been wrapped in, and looked at his fat, little, red face. How we children laughed and danced! Hospital babies can never be greeted like that!
Don Zachariah was born 18 Sep 1906. There was lots of noise then too. He was a nervous child but very beautiful. All Mother’s children were born at home. Mother and Father were really proud of the new baby buggy they had for all the boys. The day Don was born, I lifted Alma up to see the baby sleeping in the big, springy buggy. Alma was heavy and he caught hold of the buggy and nearly tipped the baby out on his face. But we saw him! The incident of looking into the buggy and nearly tipping Don out is all his really early life I can remember. He was about three when he had whooping cough very hard and was so thin and sick. He had nose bleeds a lot, he coughed so hard.
Just before Father went into the mission field in 1908, he cleaned out the plum and currant shrubs that cluttered our orchard. We were all very happy about this, especially me. I guess no child ever possessed such a vivid imagination as I did, and my play could be in my mind. “My” apple tree was a tall one at the foot of the orchard. The bloomswere such large white clusters, thrilling to see, tantalizing to smell, a lasting pleasure to touch. The apples were the large striped pink kind,and we ate them by the pans-full until towards spring. My children will never know the joy that tree brought to me!
One certain spring day I had climbed to the very top of my tree. There I could see the town of Taylor. The red brick school house was on the hill in the east of town. The little Silver Creek was near and for all these happy things, I was whistling, just like a bird. Suddenly, I was called from my fancy flight by Great Grandmother Smith. She said, “Look at my great-granddaughter! Climbing trees! Barefooted! Whistling! I looked at Grandmother Decker. She was not disturbed, but turned to my mother with, “I think Louis has done a fine job clearing this orchard. You should have better apples this year. My own, very loving and env ever understanding mother just smiled and winked. She knew I was barefooted because I loved to be. She knew I was climbing because I could see a larger, more beautiful world. She knew I was whistling because I could, and had done so since I was very small. My whistle and I have been companions since I can remember. But this meeting has many fond memories for me, maybe because I was the subject. Within that year Grandmother Decker died of cancer (29 Dec 1909) and Great-Grandmother died the next year (15 Oct 1910) both while Father was in the mission field.
My brother Jesse Smith was born 10 April 1908. In November of that year Father left us to go on a two year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He didn’t have much cash on hand, but the Northern Arizona Bank loaned him money and Brother Alma Z. Palmer, who owned the General Merchandise Store in Taylor, told Father he would carry the family’s grocery, shoe and clothing bill until his return. Uncle Nathaniel, Father’s brother, ran our sheep. He brought us some lambs. We raised some nice fat ones.
There were six children: Francis was 10, I was seven, Lorenzo was five, Alma nearly four, Don was two and Smith was eight months old. That was a real responsibility for Mother. I think she never questioned that Father should go. She had such a great faith and trusted all would be well. And surely it was. Mother got such lovely letters from Father. He taught us faith and kindness. He encouraged us to read the Book of Mormon. I don’t know how many times Mother read the book completely through to us, but it was enough to make me understand that Christ truly visited America, and to have faith in the work of Joseph Smith, the Prophet, whom God had chosen in the last days to fulfill the prophesies of a restoration of the Priesthood and the same organization and gifts that Christ established during His ministry on earth, both in America and in Palestine.
Francis, only 10 years old, chopped the wood for us. He tried to milk old Cherry. It was he, in his little-boy manly way, who did conquer wise old Cherry. Mother could milk a cow very well, if the animal stood still. Old Cherry didn’t! One evening I especially remember—we were all at the corral “helping”. I was holding Smith.
In the back of the corral was a sand bank, blown there by the eternal winds from the south. Old Cherry was on that bank. Mother approached very timidly, bucket in hand, saying, “Soo Cherry, soo Cherry.” The she started milking. Old Cherry turned around, smelled Mother, sniff a bit, and then bellowed, running her tongue in a most hideous manner. Mother jumped and ran for her life. That cow knew she could frighten Mother. She knew she had an audience. We all laughed, because it was funny. Mother calmed down and tried again over and over, but finally she gave up, completely exhausted. Francis sat downbeside her and let the cow bellow. He didn’t get as much milk as Mother could, but he hearned to manage OldCherry. He would take his harmonica inthe corral. It charmed that old red cow.
Francis was always rather small for his age, but he was a very precocious child. He knew his times tables and such uncommonly early. He always read well. It seemed like he never had to go through the hard learning process that some children struggle through. It was a very trying thing for min to see how hard the rest of us struggled to learn to read.
Francis loved horses and Father gave him Old Liz. She had a few colts, but none of them were as nice as Liz. Then Father got Old Jeff, a dark brownish roan, a small, quick horse. It wasn’t long until no one on the farm could catch Jeff except Francis. Animals loved him, and he loved animals.
One day, during his early childhood, Francis was out on this sand bank in the corral, and there in the corner of the fence was a little deserted puppy. He came into the house beaming with joy. It is my puppy! She was a fine dog. And her baying at the moon gave him the idea to name her Luna. She was a real pal to Francis.
In the kitchen, (also used for bathing) Mother had a tin tub filled with warm water. She bathed me and washed my hair. I was thrilled with a new feeling of happiness all day and I know I received the Gift of the Holy Ghost that day. Later in the afternoon, Grandfather came to see me and bring a pair of amber-colored combs for my hair. He stood in the doorway. We were playing in the corner at a little table and had some birthday refreshments. As I turned and saw Grandfather at the door, I ran to him. I was lifted from the floor as I ran. The exultant spirit made me literally fly. I can never forget that feeling, that exquisite ecstasy. Grandfather caught me up in his arms and laughed as though he felt the same feeling, and he blessed me. I have experienced that feeling a time or so since, and it is the feeling one must have continually when he has completely overcome all sin.
Aunt Daphne cared for Grandmother two for three years before she passed away. The months from June 1909 until December 29
Emma Seraphine Smith Decker
Insert two pages
Aunt Lena was 47 when one married grandfather. Grandfather was 64. But they had many happy years together. She died in October 1921. She too, died of cancer of the breast. Grandfather was alone for another and longer time – 18 years.
It shook Mother terribly. She wasn’t expecting him for two months yet. This was lateSeptember, and Father’s two years weren’t up until November. But there was some trouble over the homestead and “proving up” on it. Father’s mission president released himtwo months early; and he went from Los Angeles straight to Phoenix to try to settle his land proposition. It was a cold, neglected dinner we ate, but it looked so pretty. It was late evening as we knelt around the table with Father in family prayer. He was dressed so nice. His hands were soft, and his face all well-shaven. That moment of silence in prayer with all our family and father’s arms around us all was a mighty benediction upon our house.
Father went to the store the next day to settle our bills. $200 was all Brother Palmer had on his books. The many, many gifts of food he had given us would never by known. A better friend and neighbor could never be than Alma Z and Alzeda K. Palmer.
That winter was bad for the sheep, and we children got scarlet fever early in March. Don got it first. The we each took our turn except Francis. HE again was the mainstay, for Father was busy with lambing. It was about May 12 when we got out of quarrantine and on the 16th Joy Wesley was born two months premature. Aunt Daphne was there with mother, and she had just finished a nurse’s course. I think Sr. Standiford was there also. But Father wasn’t. They called me to get Grandfatherand Aunt Em (Smith). It was a bright moonlit morning at 4:00. I got dressed and started for Grandfather’s house several blocks away. The coyotes were howling in the hills. I cried all the way for Mother was crying so: not because she was so sick, but because that child weas being born before its time. Grandfather went to Snowflake and I ran back home. Mother told me to look in the old trunk for some baby clothes. There wasn’t time to wash anything, but I put the old sadirons on the stove and ironed shirts, diapers, gowns and receiving blankets left over from Smith’s babyhood. We had been in quarrantine so long, and Mother hadn’t made a thing for this new baby because she didn’t want to get scarlet fever germs on baby clothes.
Joy wasn’t so tiny but (after a difficult delivery he sufferend from cerebral palsy the rest of his life) oh, how he moaned. Life was very hard for him. After the first day or so, when he cried it woke me. Aunt Daphne didn’t want to be disturbed, but I felt like if I could only hold him, he wouldn’t cry so much. She would send me back to bed, and soon I was up again. But I did get to hold him and it seemed to help. He was never very strong; and when he was 11 months old, he may have had infantile paralysis. There were several cases in our community. Oh, how he screamed and wrenched his little body night after night , until we were all worn out.
(Written in 1960)
I must return to tell about Joy. He was a very fine fellow. He did get a little better. When he was 21 months old, Carl Hatch was born 16 Feb 1913. At that time Mother had pnuemonia so badly she didn’t even feel the pains of Carl’s birth. Orpha James was with us. She was an odd character, but she kept house while Mother was so sick. Joy and I got up in the night and went to Aunt Mabel’s house there in Taylor while Uncle Alvin went for Sister Standiford, the midwife. Mother was too sick to keep the baby with her. Aunt Ella came over from Snowflake and took him to Aunt Nora, who was staying there Savage who was staying there with some of the Savage children who were going to high school.
Carl was a dear little fellow, but he was shifted around for a long time -- several months – before Mother was well enough to have him home with us. Aunt Nora Savage certrainly saved his life. She would keep Carl warm at nights by holding him in her arms, close to her own warm body. When Mother was well enough and dear Aunt Rachel Smith (Benson) thought she could handle it, Carl was brought home. We was eating at the time Eagle Brand milk which was so sweet that it gave him diarrhea. Mother went with himto Woodruff to her sisters, Addie and Nora Savage who lived there. She was still so weak and helpless from the pneumonia. It was a big chore for me at home. Aung Em Smith took Joy to Salt Lake for the summer. and the rest of us went to the ranch for the summer. The boys and father and I got so homesick I could not stand to stay in the Taylor house without Mother. I was 12 years old that year.
We didn’t do much housekeeping, but we “managed” without Mother. We got word from Woodruff that Carl was very sick. Mother finally brought him to the ranch. It was a poor, little, skinny baby who came to us, so fragile we could hardly touch him. He must have been home two or three weeks, when one morning as mother was bathing him, he smiled. Mother and I both cried for joy, and from that day on he began to improve. He got used to cow’s milk in a short while, and he began to grow. He was so cute and grew fat and was a real joy to us because he was so strong.
Joy hadn’t learned to walk, and it pleased us very much to have Carl grown up “naturally”, in spite of his poor start. Joy was keen in his mind. His throat was paralyzed, but he learned to talk haltingly. As Carl did things, he put forth a greater effort. Joy cried his heart out the day we put Carl in the jumper. He wanted so much to jump! His poor little legs were so helpless, but he tried and tried and it did help him. He learned to put his feet down and jump. That was good for Joy.
Joy didn’t walk for many years, but at last he learned through his powerful will to walk by his cane. He could get out to the outdoor toilet by himself. He was very grateful he could care for himself in these elemental things. He learned to read and read well. He could read all the scriptures, all of Shakespeare and many, many other books. He could write, by using his left hand. He had a fine imagination, and could draw a fine piture and cut out things with scissors. We had a lot of good times with Joy. He loved to play dominos and checkers. Everone was kind to him. The Rogers’ chldren, Reuben and Wealthy’s were so good to him. They played games with him and always with great kindness and care.
Joy had a temper and he could use it. Mother helped him to overcome it, but he had outbursts. He was greatly frustrated all his life. He knew the fine things of life – faith, home and charity. We all loved him very dearly because we helped him, and he never seemed like a burden to us because he appreciated what we did for him.
When Aunt Em took him to Salt Lake, she got help for him. .. /when he got back to the rance in the summer of 1922, he was so happy. He could speak veryt clearly, better than he had ever been able. He grew to be a man, not very tall, but he had lovely brown wavy hair and nice dark eyes. Because of his handicap he couldn’t give his face a good expression as he talked, but when he was relaxed and listening, he was very handsome.
He knew music from the radio and church, but he couldn’t sing worth a shot. One day somelovely soprano on the radio was singing “Thy Sweet Voice”. Joy said, “That’s from the opera Sampson and Delilah.” He always listened Saturdays to the operas from the Metropolitan. He had a keen sense of humor and a wonderful love for Mother and Father who gave so much of their time to him. He was fine company for them too, when we were all gone from home.
Joy, Freda andGlenavieve Decker at the ranch
[Joy died 3 June 1937. He fell and a piece of metal pierced his neck and burst his trachea.] The funeral was lovely and comforting to us. Life had been hard for Joy; every minute of his 26 years was a struggle. But he conquered so many hard attempts and learned the important values of life. He had many blessings, and he knew the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He had a strong faith, and his prayers for Mother’s broken arm can never be forgotten. He had many heartaches and many heart breaks. It makes me think of a prayer in Quo Vadis – “Thou thyself hath suffered. Thou alone can understand people’s pains.” He made us all very humble and grateful for our many blessings.
(unindentified girl)
