July 5, 1995

     Zelma Simmons Hunt is a person I know well.  She is "Mom" to me, but I know her in a different way now, and in a more complete way at this closing time of her life.

No matter how unclear her mind (and it varies) or how weak and faltering her body (and that varies also) her true self still shines through!  No matter how disoriented or ill, that sweet, fun core is there.  It comes forth to surprise and delight.

Mom still brightens at the sight of little children, she still wants to help, her habits of work are still strong, she still wants to do for others, she still thinks we are all beautiful, she still loves us all even when she can't put a name to us, she still has a good appetite and relishes her food, she still loves to be with people, she still loves to talk, and she still can sing!

A month ago (June 10, 1995) over 20 of us met together in Union, Oregon.  Mom was able to be with us and it was fun to see how excited everyone was to see her as she was helped through the door.

Mom was lovely with her white hair and big smile.  She sat in the living room the whole afternoon, happy to be there and happy for the commotion.  There was always someone visiting with her and her eyes sparkled with the fun of it all.  She was able to visit with children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

A number of us were gathered around the piano singing hymns and from her chair, Mom sang right along with us!  She sang through all the verses without hesitation.  She has loved and sung those hymns since childhood and even with a mind that confuses ordinary conversation, those hymns are so familiar they come forth on their own.

It is an interesting thing that no matter how confused she gets, she always rises to any social occasion with charm and dignity.  The habits of Mom's lifetime that I see come forth now are impressive and admirable.  They speak of a woman with a strong inner fiber, a fine moral character, and a deeply rooted standard of behavior.

Mom was a story teller, a historian, an actress, a wit, beautiful, high spirited, glamorous, energetic, a hard worker, a unique combination of insecurity and daring, inventive, sympathetic, mercurial, ultra-competent, loving, talented, loyal, a dedicated housekeeper, the consummate homemaker, a gardener and so very, very creative.

I think Mom's efforts as a mother were motivated by her wonderful childhood (which she wanted to reproduce for us) and by her desire that we experience life as it should be and not as it was for her as she grew older without a father and with the hard times that eventually resulted from his death.

As the oldest child in the family, I suppose I have memories of Mom unique to that position.  My memories of her begin at a very early age and they are vivid.

I remember her in the bedroom she and Dad shared which opened directly off of the living room.  It was a fresh, warm day, and she was happy and singing.  I remember being with her and watching her.  She opened both long windows and the breeze from the west picked up those light, filmy white curtains and floated them out into the room.  There were flowers in the room and I remember the smell in the air.  Mom always planted flowers outside and she always had bouquets of flowers inside the house.  I remember the smell and cleanliness and the sight of those moments.  I remember feeling completely happy.

Mom was a memory maker!  She always had a knack for building simple things up into wonderful EVENTS.  I think my early memories (a number of them as a toddler) were impressed upon my mind because they came about as events.

In the early days of the house, the breakfast nook was a small back porch, and on the street side of that porch there was trellis work painted a dark green.  Along the trellis Mom planted nasturtiums.  I remember being carried outside and placed on the ground beside those flowers while Mom weeded.  She especially loved sweet peas and always tried to grow them.  In the spring she always had apple blossoms in the house.  She always wanted the house to look beautiful and worked hard to make it so.

Where the utility room is now there was a jog that opened directly off the kitchen as the breakfast nook does today.  That jog was her little sewing room where she had her treadle sewing machine and where she could take advantage of spare minutes (handy to the kitchen) to do all of the sewing for us children and herself.  I used to love to sit in there and watch her sew.  It was very homey and with the whir of the treadle and the swiftness with which she sewed, it was fascinating to watch.

The things she made were very professional looking and Mom used to say it was because she didn't "sew the style right out."  She would see something in a store or in a pattern book, look at it for a few minutes, and then go home and cut out a pattern from newspaper, hold the pattern up to us to see if it fit right, and start cutting her material.

Many times, the fabric didn't come from the store.  Those early days, especially, were too affected by the Depression to go buy material.  One good source was Rose Allen, our neighbor, who was much larger than Mom, and there was a lot of good material in her old dresses.  Another source for material was the church rummage sale.  She would buy good, old coats, dresses and men's suits and completely remake them.

Mom felt very strongly that children shouldn't have to wear cast-offs, nor should they have to feel shamed by someone pointing at them and saying, "You got that at the rummage sale!  That used to be mine!"  She always had such empathetic feelings for children, because she had suffered through those experiences herself after her father died.

Mom had a unique way of sewing from castoff clothing.  She would take advantage of the existing buttons and buttonholes by laying her pattern in such a way as to utilize them.  She did the same with collars, cuffs, plackets, etc.  She liked "remodeling" an article of clothing.

Mom loved the creative process of "designing" something as she went along.  For example, she acquired a wool coat somewhere which was in excellent condition.  It was a finely woven gray with tweedy blue flecks.  That coat became a beautiful coat for me which I wore proudly to church, but hated to wear to school because it was too fine to play in.  That coat went from a man's overcoat to a beautiful coat for me with royal blue velvet on collars and cuffs and wonderful buttons from some other article of clothing.  To top it all, a "soldier-like" cap with blue velvet to match (it went from forehead to back of head) with a jaunty blue feather.  Mom had gotten the idea from a Shirley Temple movie.  It was al elegant outfit much admired by my third grade teacher.

No effort was too much for Mom when she got an idea for mine and Mary's dresses, and she often dressed us alike.  One Easter, when we were small children, Mom made us each dresses of white organdy worn over pink slips.  As was the style then (because of Shirley Temple) they fell straight from the shoulder with two pleats on each side of center panel.  Down the sides of each center panel she embroidered tiny pink rosebuds with pale green leaves from neck to hem.

All of my grade school teachers and Sunday School and primary teachers were always much interested in our clothes!  Mom dressed us beautifully and was proud that people noticed her children's clothes and never knew the origins of those clothes.  Women always asked her where she bought them.

One Christmas Dad's sister, our Aunt Alberta, sent Mary and me a large piece of new material.  Mom was thrilled!  Primary Conference was coming up in the spring and she decided to make us matching dresses from that material.  It was white with small red rosebuds and green leaves.  Along one selvage was a border that started out with small full roses and ended up solid red.  Mary and I had never seen border material before and we loved those dresses.  They were two pieced, with a puff-sleeved blouse and a wonderful full-gathered skirt with the border around the bottom.  The waistband went around the back as usual, but in front it raised up higher in a curve and was laced together with red ribbons.  We thought we were very "Heidi" looking in those dresses.

Mary and I sang a duet in that conference and I remember keeping my eyes peeled on Mom as we sang.  She was very proud of us, and I remember her telling Dad of all the mothers who asked her for the pattern so they could make their girls dresses like ours.  Of course, there was no pattern, as Mom had designed it herself.

Mom was always such a creative person!  She served for herself and five children, she made curtains, drapes and bedspreads, costumes, quilts and wonderfully inventive valentines.  She introduced Christmas egg ornaments to us, and speaking for my own family, we still make them at holiday time.  She was a great cook.  She upholstered furniture, tore out walls and remodeled rooms.

Once when Dad was gone for a few days, Mom decided to remodel and decorate an upstairs bedroom.  With her trusty butcher knife, crowbar, and claw hammer, she took out a wall.  She got worried at one point that she was trying to remove a major support, but after consultation with Alvin Jackson (who loaned her his saw) she proceeded with confidence.

Mom did all the major part of that project before Dad returned.  Then after he got back, she continued her work on the room while he was at work.  She was able to keep him from discovering everything until she was almost through wallpapering the room.

She did a wonderful job!  The room was really beautiful with the lovely wallpaper border around the top, new floor and curtains and bedspread she made.  It looked like a room from a magazine.

Mom undertook many projects over the years.  She was an expert paperhanger, and she was always quick with a paintbrush.  She couldn't abide cupboards, tables or chairs, nor walls or doorjambs with chipped paint.  Before the breakfast nook was added to the kitchen, we ate at a wooden table in the kitchen.  Mom kept that table painted "Chinese Red" and I remember that can of paint perfectly.  When she emptied one can, she bought another one, and it was always painted in that same color.

Mom loved music.  She loved to dance and sing.  When she was younger she had wanted to play the piano, so she worked to pay for piano lessons.  She took her lessons from a Mrs. French who was a very demanding teacher.  Mom loved her lessons and Mrs. French was so pleased with her progress that she gave her some of her beginners to teach.

During that segment of her life Mom bought herself the many volumned set of music books that were always present and much used as we grew up.  They were large green books that Mom used when she played for her own amusement, and she used them to find songs for Mary and me to sing.  Those books contained everything from opera, folk tunes, hymns and old favorites for singing, to classical selections she loved to play.  She really prized those books!

Mom always sang a lot as she worked around the house, and music was a really important element in her life.  When Mary and I were very young, Mom decided to teach us to harmonize.  I sang alto, Mary sang soprano, and Mom played the piano.  I remember those times vividly!  We practiced songs and then she would have us sing for Dad when he came home for lunch.

Mom was excited about our progress and taught us to sing a number of songs.  We got where we could harmonize to anything she played.  Mary had a natural ability to sing a lovely, clear soprano (which she still has today) and I naturally heard a harmony.  The three of us had such fun at the piano!

One Christmas season, Claire Ord, a member of the Baker Ward congregation, asked if we could sing at the Christmas Sunday services.  Mom was very excited about it.  The song Mom picked was "The Friendly Beasts."  We practiced well and had all of the many verses memorized.  Mom was very thorough and all three of us really worked hard getting ready for our debut.  Up to that point we had only sung at home.  Mom made new dresses for us and we were all very excited!  This was an event that Mom played to the hilt!  I remember being aware that we were the only little children I knew of who were to sing in public.  I knew grown-ups sang, but children only sang as a Primary group.  Mom had us very excited about the whole affair.  It was a major event!  When the Sunday came and we were all ready, Mom and Dad took us to the church early.  The chapel was still empty and we went clear to the front and sat on the front row.  There was a platform in front of us (by the piano) where the chorister stood to direct the congregation.  Mary and I were to step up onto that platform and turn to face the people and Mom would start playing an introduction at that time.  It was a big moment!  Mary and I got up, stepped up on the platform, and Mom started playing.  Because it was the Sunday Christmas program, the church was packed, even to people standing at the back!  Mary, who was only three years old, took one look at the crowd, gasped, started to cry, and ran to the safety of Dad's arms.  At five years old, evidently I didn't know enough to sit down.  Mom, thinking that I, too, would sit down, stopped playing.  However, I began to sing my alto part.  Mom decided to sing the melody with me as she played the piano so she began to sing and play.  It mixed her up to do both, and she lost her place and stopped.  She thought I would sit down then, but I continued singing and so she began playing again.  I sang all those many verses (six or eight) in a two or three note alto, with no one singing the melody.

Over the years, Mom and I have enjoyed those memories of the beginning of our singing "career."  However, music was a very important part of our lives as we grew up, and I have always been very thankful for Mom's efforts.  Mary and I both have continued to sing throughout our lifetime.  Mary has sung with many groups in her beautiful, lilting soprano and it has been a great blessing to me to be able to sing with her so many times over the years.  I think we both have tried to follow Mom's example as we raised our own daughters.  We have both sung with our girls as they have grown up, and the singing has been a source of comfort and enjoyment to all of us.

     Mom had such an inventive mind and she went into things with great energy!  One day, when Mary and I were very young, it had snowed a lot and it was beautiful and deep.  I remember Mom telling us excitedly that we were going to have a sleigh ride.  She had decided to put Mary and I on the sled and pull us down to Grandma Hunt's house.  She flew around in a flurry, all the time getting us more and more excited!  She had to figure out a way to keep us from falling off of the sled.  She got two cardboard boxes just our size, cut off the flaps, cut out one side, poked some holes in the bottom and wired the boxes to the bottom of the sled, one in front of the other.  She bundled us up and put blankets around us to snug us in.  We sat with legs stretched in front of us.  Mary was so small that Mom tied her into her box so she couldn't fall out.  It was a thrilling ride with Mom ahead of us, singing and laughing.  It was such an adventure to me and I remember her looking back at us, smiling and laughing with her black hair blowing around her head.

Mom was fiercely loyal and was always our champion.  One of our neighbors gave us two pairs of women's high heel shoes that were shoe salesman samples.  They were the same as in the store, but in a very small size that fit our child feet.  It was so much more fun to play in them, because they didn't clomp and flap as we walked.  One pair seemed especially dashing to us children and was even a little smaller than the other pair.  When we decided to play dress-up, there was always a little tension about who would be the lucky one who could play in the favored shoes.  One friend who came to play after school would always blackmail me by threatening to go home if she couldn't wear them.  Rather than have her leave, I would always give in to her.

One day we were having those negotiations on the bottom step of the back porch, Mom was working in the kitchen with the back door open, she heard our conversation and stepped out on the porch and said, "Why don't you run on home then."  My friend left and I picked up the shoes and went inside.  Mom pulled a face and said in a whiney voice, "If I can't have my own way, I won't play!"  She shook her head and said, "That just burns me up!"

One time when I was in grade school, my feelings were hurt when the two friends I usually walked home with pulled faces at me, ran away and wouldn't walk with me.  Then halfway home, as I passed the house of the one friend, I heard a knock on the window, thinking they wanted me to join them, I looked up expectantly only to see them making another face at me.  I was heartbroken and crying when I walked into our house.  Mom was ironing in the kitchen by the draining board.  I always liked that clean kitchen, ironing smell, and I loved to watch her iron because she was so efficient and quick about it.  Mom sighed, shook her head and then said, "That's always the way it is when three pal around together.  Someone is always getting left out because two just naturally want to pair off."  She sent me off to wash my face and when I returned she talked to me while she ironed.  She told me always to remember how it felt to have my feelings hurt so that I would never be guilty of hurting others.  She urged me to always try to think ahead about the effect of my actions and to consider the other person.  I think this may have been the first time I heard the story of "Mountain Home and the Sweater."

Mom's family had been fairly well off, but after her father's death their affairs gradually deteriorated until eventually they moved from Utah to Mountain Home, Idaho.  I believe her brothers found work there, but they were quite poor.  Mom told of the bitter cold winter and of having to go to school with only a sweater for a coat.  She told of how humiliated and hurt she felt when she was teased and taunted by her schoolmates because she didn't have a coat.  That story was told to me to illustrate a point and I remember being so touched by that story.  When she finished, she gave me advice about what I should do next with my own hurt feelings.  Mom explained to me that my friends were enjoying my reaction.  She said it wouldn't hurt them to do without me for a while.  She suggested that I get acquainted with a new girl in South Baker and ignore my other friends for a week or two.  She said, "Now don't be mean.  Just smile politely and speak to them nicely, but don't play with them."  Then she smiled at me and said, "That'll serve them right, and maybe after a little time has passed the four of you can all be friends together!"

This was a pivotal experience in my life and I remember it as the first time I realized I didn't have to get my feelings hurt.  Instead, I could take action.

I really loved being a member of my family!  I loved our home and I knew my parents loved us children.  Also, I was always proud of my beautiful mother and handsome father who were always romantically involved with each other.  They were very different in temperament.  Dad was inclined to pull back into himself and brood, while Mom was more volatile and inclined to action.  One time Dad was upset with Mom for something and hadn't been talking to her.  True to form, Mom took action.  Dad came in the house to clean up, and was in the bathtub.  Mom went into the bathroom and fully clothed, shoes and all, stepped into the tub and sat down facing him.  She grinned at him and said, "Are you going to stay mad forever?"  Of course, Dad couldn't help laughing and so that was the end of that.

Mom had such empathy for children who were having a hard time.  I remember her standing at the living room window watching the children going home after school, a little girl came by in an insufficient coat that was much too big and had sleeves that hung way down over her hands.  Mom said, "Look at that!  Wouldn't you think they would at least shorten those sleeves?"  Mom ran out and told the girl that she had been watching for someone to pass by who would fit into an extra coat she had.  She said, "You ask your mother if you can have it.  You can stop by on your way to school in the morning and let me know."  Mom went right to work and remodeled a coat for the girl and gave it to her the next morning.

Mom was such a story teller!  She told us stories of her childhood and we couldn't hear them enough.  All of those stories are as detailed and full to me as if I had seen them in a movie.  There were Uncle Jode and Aunt Kate, (who were like family but not really relatives).  Uncle Dan, Aunt Eva and Uncle Dave Davis, Aunt Mary and Uncle Stevie, Aunt Alice and Uncle George and Uncle Albert and his wives.  She told stories of all the friends she played with and of her teachers.  She told stories of her mother and what she remembered of her father.  We heard of the children and grown-ups who were taken in and cared for by her mother.  Stories of pets, hired help, school life and many others delighted us.

Mom was so competent!  She was a woman who could be asked to do anything and would know exactly what to do and how to do it.  She could be in charge of large dinners at the church, dances or parties—it didn't matter.  She could assess perfectly what was needed.  She was always called for advice on things.  Even the doctor asked her advice.  One doctor called her into his examining room once to ask her advice about a patient and agreed when she diagnosed whooping cough.  He had never seen a case of whooping cough and needed his diagnosis confirmed.  The neighbor's daughter sought Mom out to remove her new baby's cord which wouldn't come off.  Mom set up a pad and what she needed on the dryer and "operated."  The neighbor, herself, sought Mom out for marital advice.

Mom's energy level was high and she was a very hard worker.  It was a matter of pride with her to have her daily house work done by 9:00 a.m. and that included sweeping and hosing down the porch and sweeping our sidewalk.

As a little girl I remember being over at the house of our neighbor, Mrs. Rose Allen.  I heard her talking to the mailman about Mom.  He had said something about Mrs. Hunt sweeping the sidewalk and Mrs. Allen told him that Mom had done a full day's work by 9 in the morning.  She bragged and bragged about what a good worker Mom was and what a beautiful wash she did.

Monday was laundry day and Mom was always close to being done when I got up to go to school.  She used a wringer washer which she pushed out into the middle of the bathroom.  She had a washtub and the bathtub to rinse in.  She hung the clothes out on the line.

One memory I have is of getting the wash off the line (sometimes in a hurry because rain was coming) and putting it on Mom's bed and helping her fold clothes.  Mom's wash on the line had to reflect her as a person.  It had to be clean and the whites had to be sparkling white.  The wash had to be out early (it bespoke an early riser) and it had to be hung in a certain way so that the sheets faced the street.  Underwear was hidden in the middle and dark clothes such as jeans, the boys' pants and Dad's work clothes hung on the back lines.  All of these things affect my laundry habits to this very day.

Mom had great drive to supply us with a wonderful childhood.  She didn't just tell us to go play.  She always included the germ of an idea.  Before the back lawn was put in, the back yard was high with weeds.  She would remind us it looked like a jungle, then telling us to go play, we would all excitedly run out to play jungle.  Mom loved to remember the time most of us were up in the apple trees and someone hollered, "An elephant!  Run!"  Whoever was on the ground heard a noise, turned to took and saw someone's escaped cow coming through the weeds.  "Jungle" became very real then and what a race to get into the tree!  Mom laughed and laughed and laughed again when she told Dad.

In the summertime, Mom would hand us something from the cupboard and say, "I think this would be good in a mud pie!"  We would grab it and race outside to start cooking.  One time she gave us Alka Seltzer tablets.  What excitement when we put them in the water and dirt!

Mom always knew what could become a memorable event for us.  I remember the wonderful excitement of Christmas!  Mom was a master at building anticipation and some of her best efforts went into Christmas.  I remember the ritual of getting Mary a present.  There was great secrecy involved and much discussion with Mom about what Mary would like.  We often got each other hair ribbons, but Mom whispered back and forth with each of us until we felt there were lots of options.

I remember one late afternoon.  I was just a young girl and in my mind I can see just how tall I stood.  I had been uptown getting Mary's present and it was getting dark outside.  I had walked home in the snow and was just frozen.  I can see the scene inside the living room as I stepped through the door, just as plainly now in my memory as I did at that moment.  The room was lit only by the fire in the fireplace, and Mom was sitting by the fire.  I remember standing in front of the fire to warm up while I told Mom what I had gotten.  I remember thinking that everything was perfect!  There never was nor could be a place as cozy and comforting as that room and that home, and Mom was the centerpoint of those feelings.

Before the house was remodeled and a fireplace put in, Mom would construct a "fireplace" from a wooden frame covered with a type of brick patterned paper.  It even had a mantel so that our little stockings could be hung there.  The "fire" was laid by placing logs and red tissue paper in the "firebox" in such a way that with the addition of a flashlight hidden in the arrangement, it was easy to imagine it was a real fire.  I can just see that wonderful "fire" in my mind.  Mom would turn it on after dark so that its full effect could be felt along with the always wonderful Christmas tree lit with amazing little twirling paper lanterns that were placed over the tree lights.  Dad had brought them home from Germany and they were lovely as they twirled on their pins from the heat of the Christmas tree lights.  Each lantern was of a different Christmas scene and my favorite was a blue night scene.

Mom always bought dolls for Mary and me and then redressed them.  Mary's dolls were always in pink and mine were always in blue.  I will never forget one Christmas in particular!  When we quietly came down the steps in the dark to peek on Christmas morning, and turned on the Christmas tree lights, there standing in the glow were our two dolls, sparkling and beautiful!  They were so splendid they took our breath away.  Usually, all our presents were wrapped, but those dolls were so amazing, Mom wanted us to see them first in all their glory!  She had made them "formals" from taffeta with long gathered skirts and over them had put another full skirt which was made of net.  It all stood out beautifully, but the best part and the reason we were so thrilled, when we turned on the tree lights, was that they sparkled!

A type of tape had come on the market then, which was new.  It was narrow—only 1/4" at the most, and it glittered.  The sparkle didn't come off and it covered the tape thickly and completely.  Mom used it to wrap Christmas presents and they were a work of art.  She had cut tiny little squares from that tape and stuck them all over the net skirts of our dolls.  Mine was silver sparkle on blue and I think Mary's was gold sparkle on pink.

Mom was always as excited about Christmas as we were.  She never wanted to miss anything and always heard us quietly sneaking down the stairs.  She always wanted to see us as we first turned on the tree lights and saw the sight of all those presents spread out over the floor.  However, we didn't always know she was watching us.  Before Christmas morning, the only presents under the tree were the ones we children gave each other.  All the others came from Santa and so they only appeared Christmas morning.  Mom wanted that first sight to be breathtaking and it always was.  I was so thrilled myself that I don't remember everyone else and their reactions, except for one time when Don got his bicycle.  I have never seen anyone as excited about anything as Don was that Christmas morning.  He just trembled!

Mom loved animals and they loved her.  I remember how forlorn she looked as she told her story from the past of their much loved cow that had to be sold.  After its sale, Mom said that when she walked to or from school, the cow would see her and come running across the field, then follow along the fence line as far as it could, bawling all the way.  Mom always said it broke her heart.  She had interesting experiences with birds, dogs, and cats.  Hummingbirds lit on her fingers.  I love the picture of the wild deer and Mom on a mountain road.  Once when Mom had walked to town, a large dog came up to her.  It followed at her side all the way back home.  Then it looked at her for a few moments and then turned and ran back towards town.

     Saturday was the day Mom got prepared for Sunday.  She cleaned the house and got our clothes ready.  For me, the worst part was "The Washing of the Hair!"  She washed our hair and then put it in curlers.  On one Saturday she called me to come in and get my hair washed.  I complained and whined and so she did Mary first.  Then she called me again and I was still complaining.  When I got in the house I really threw a fit and Mom just looked at me for a minute and then she said, "Well, all right, I guess you're old enough to do your own hair."  She left the room and I just stood there.  I knew immediately I had gone too far.  I was only in grade school and I didn't know how to do my own hair.  Mom had always kept us looking so nice and I could see in the mirror that was going to change.  I decided that Sunday morning I would probably be able to comb it into shape.  That didn't prove to be the case.  Mom had my clothes ready when I got up, but there was no offer to do my hair.  I tried to fix it, but it had been a whole week since it had been washed and it was dirty and straight.  I combed through it and pinned it back out of my eyes but I looked awful.  I looked forward to Monday because I knew Mom wouldn't let me go to school looking the way I did.  She was very particular about how we looked for school.  I was wrong.  Still no offer came to do my hair.  Off I went, mortified and embarrassed.  I was stared at there as I had been at church.  About Wednesday, my teacher said to me, "Your mother is sick, isn't she Dear?"  I hung my head and said, "No."  She just looked at my hair, ran her hand over the top of my head and said, "Oh."  My Primary teacher asked me the same question that afternoon at Primary.  It only got worse the rest of the week.  Dad said something about the way I looked, but I heard Mom tell him that I was doing my own hair.  My heart sank.  When Saturday came around I was on pins and needles.  Would she or wouldn't she?  I couldn't get up the nerve.  Mom called Mary in to get her hair washed and curled and all the time I was sulking nearby just in case.  Finally, Mom called my name and I was in the kitchen in a flash.  She asked me if I wanted to continue doing my own hair or would I like her to do it.  What relief!  Never again did I utter a word about the hair process.  I had learned my lesson.

I remember one time when Mom and Dad were going to the Gold and Green Ball.  Those dances were very big events then and were very dressy.  The men wore suits and the women wore long "formals" and corsages.  Mom and Dad were going and I remember Mom getting ready to leave.  Irene DeRoest was going to babysit us and she had come over early to help Mom do her hair.  It had been swept up and piled on top of her head.  When she came out to show us how she looked, I was awestruck!  Her black hair looked wonderful up and she was wearing a long, slim, black dress with a moderately deep sweetheart neckline.  She wore a pair of black onyx and silver drop earrings with a matching necklace.  Her fingernails were painted red, and Irene had brought her fur coat for Mom to wear.  I remember watching Mom and thinking that she was more beautiful and glamorous than any movie star!  She told us later that when she and Dad walked into the dance, Aunt Mary (Dad's sister) pulled her aside and said, "I've got a piece of black material at home and I'll send Parley to get it so you can fill in that neckline."  Mom laughed and laughed over that.  I always wished I could have seen Mom and Dad walk into the dance.  They were such a handsome couple!

Mom was a "spitfire" and had quite a temper.  She spoke her mind without hesitation when an occasion called for it.  She gave one neighbor man a vigorous "talking to" when he had gotten drunk.  She never hesitated to stand up to her father-in-law.  Grandpa hunt could be grumpy and bossy, but Mom was undaunted by him.  She always said he just needed someone to stand up to him and that is what she did.  One night Dad was driving Grandpa home from the church and he was in the back seat.  Mom was in front with Dad.  Dad turned on the car radio and Mom sang with the music.  When the piece was finished, Grandpa leaned forward and said, "By George, that woman could sing!"  When Dad told him it was Mom, Grandpa argued that it was not.  He just refused to acknowledge it.  Mom got such a kick out of that.

When Grandpa became ill, our house was where he wanted to be.  He enjoyed Mom and she teased him and could make him laugh.  I guess laugh goes a little too far, but she could make him smile and chuckle.  Dad would go down and get Grandpa and bring him to our house for the day.  Mom was always great about making us comfortable when we were sick and she could always know how to help us pass the time.  She said Grandpa didn't have anything to help him pass the time.  Grandpa and Grandma's home on Colorado St. wasn’t situated so that he could see much going on outside.  When Dad would bring him to our house, Mom would have the sofa turned around facing the large living room window which overlooked the street.  There was always a lot of car and foot traffic by our house, plus the activity of the lumber yard with the logging trucks passing by.  In the distance he could see the trains coming through and as they came around closer to the house he could hear them.  He liked being there with Mom singing and teasing him and when he got too ill to come to our house, Mom sat with him a lot at his home.

Mom was very active in the neighborhood.  She knew everyone and was always ready to help.  She did everything she could for the sick.  She sat with the dying.  She tended people's yards when they were gone or ill.  She was sought out for advice on marriages and worrisome children.  She sewed for people.  She was always active in church and loved teaching children in Sunday School.  When a new neighbor moved in, Mom was right there to see if she could help.  One widowed neighbor became ill and Mom was so devoted to her!  She went over in the morning to help her get dressed, she cooked for her, read to her, checked on her many times a day, visited with her and did everything she could think of to comfort her.  She fed her and put her to bed every evening.  It was a great loss to Mom when that neighbor died.  I don't think I have ever known anyone more service oriented than Mom.

I don't recall ever being spanked by Mom or Dad, but we were certainly expected to behave ourselves.  A look from either was enough to bring me up short.  I do remember dreading Mom's anger when she was finally pushed, by a very dirty bedroom for example, into losing her temper.  Then, dirty clothes and clutter filled the air and we were chastised with great energy!

Recently, I found a paper doll that I drew many years ago when my girls and I were playing paper dolls.  The paper doll tradition is strong in my family and it all began with Mom.  One day when I was just a little girl, probably about 55 years ago, Mom drew a paper doll for me and showed me how to make clothes for her.  Since that time I have made dozens and dozens.  I've made paper dolls for daughters, nieces and granddaughters and I still make paper dolls just for myself.  Mom started it all by drawing a "Betty Boop" paper doll for me.  Betty Boop was a movie cartoon character of the 1930's and Mom could draw her perfectly.  We never really "played" paper dolls, we always just drew clothes for them.  I didn't like making clothes for the slick, colored, store paper dolls.  They just didn't look like they matched and so I was always on the watch for paper dolls that looked drawn rather than printed.

Our neighbors, Alvin and Nellie Jackson, had an old garage between our houses and in it, Alvin kept "stuff."  He had a big grindstone out there and we liked to sit and pedal it round and round.  He also had an old, long carseat there and best of all, he had stacks of old magazines.  They were the old fashioned "pulp" cowboy and romance stories.  When I found these I thought I'd found gold.  I used to read out there by the hour, sitting or lying on that old car seat.  One day I ran across a different kind of magazine.  It was a pulp-type of girlie magazine and I don't remember a thing about it except that it provided me with my most favorite paper doll.  She was perfect!  Mom had always drawn underclothes on my paper dolls and so did I, but I always wished the lines weren't in the way when I drew the clothes.  The lady in that magazine was completely naked!  No underwear lines whatever!  I guess I knew Mom wouldn't like her because I kept her in an envelope and only showed her when she was covered with a new gown.  I made stacks of clothes for her.  She was the best!

Then one day when I came home from school, there stood Mom, waiting for me with one hand on her hip and the other one holding that paper doll!  I could see Mom was really mad and I knew I was in trouble.  I tried to explain that I never let the doll out of her envelope without clothes except when I was drawing her a new outfit (which was the only way I played with her) and that I had even made her a dressing gown to cover her while I colored and cut out the new outfit.  Of course, that wasn't Mom's concern.  Her big question was, "WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?"  I had an inkling that Alvin was going to be in trouble and that it might mean the end of my reading in his garage, so I tried to cover for him.  I said, "I can't remember," but that was not a satisfactory explanation.  "I just found it" was insufficient and, of course, I ended up tattling on Alvin.  Mom said, "You follow me!"  I trotted miserably along behind her as we went over to the Jacksons.  Alvin was out in his shop and Mom lit into him the moment she saw him.  She chewed him up one side and down the other!  He was stammering and wagging his head back and forth and apologizing all at the same time.  By the time Mom finished with him I was bawling and Alvin was promising that there would never be another thing like that on his property ever again so long as he lived.  When Mom and I got back home, Mom crumpled the paper doll and threw her away.  I was mad at her for awhile because that paper doll was perfect—perfect size with a perfect straight ahead position.  I never again found another one like her.

Mom has always been crazy about children.  She had such an affinity for them and she never lost her child-like sense of fun.  She was probably in her 60's when taking a car trip through the Moab, Utah area.  At the sight of those huge, smooth, sloping, red rocks, she jerked upright in her seat and with her face close to the window, she cried out, "Oh, look!  Wouldn't it be fun to run down those rocks?"

Previous to that drive, she had been visiting my family in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  Dad had stayed at home in Baker.  Mom and the kids ran back and forth through the house with all sorts of high-jinks including squirt gun fights outside.  She loved going to Baskin Robbins to get Rocky Road ice cream.  Every evening we ate ice cream and listened to all the old stories.  My children loved having her visit because she was such fun.  One night, one of the kids left the room and came back a few minutes later exclaiming, "I'm the first one ready for bed!"  After that, every night was a race to see who could be first.

One afternoon about three o'clock, Mom walked into the kitchen in her nightgown with her hair all wrapped up in a net, and called out, "I'm the first one ready for bed!"  We all got to laughing so hard one of the kids fell off a chair.

She and the kids played tricks on each other all through that trip.  We had two bathrooms in the Santa Fe house and one was just off the kitchen by the back door.  I had been working in the kitchen for some time when one of the children came through to use that bathroom.  Upon opening the door there was a terrible commotion, accompanied by a scream.  Whichever child it was had been scared to death by Mom who had been standing for I don't know how long just inside the bathroom door waiting for someone to scare.  Her toes must have been right against the door and her face was pulled into a grimace showing fangs (paper ones stuck on her teeth) and when the door opened, she growled!

Mom was the popular modern girl of her time.  She was a "flapper" who loved to date, dance and flirt.  Young men flocked to her and pursued her.  However, she had strength of character and had learned correct principles as she grew up.  She worked until she married, and always contributed to the welfare of her family.  She took care of Grandma Simmons in our home during the last two years of her life.

Mom learned her strong work ethic as a child.  She decided at a very young age to take over the care of the family home in Beaver Dam, Utah.  Her father was dead and her mother had never gotten over his death.  Grandma Simmons was not a consistent housekeeper nor much of a manager, but she was a very sweet woman with a soft heart.  Young Zelma decided that she would take on the neglected chores herself.  Her first effort was to take all drawers out, and clean them and the space they came from.  Next, she decided to take everything out of the big kitchen and mop the floor on her hands and knees.  Everyone told her it was too big a job for her, but she did it.  She did her best to iron the clothes for everyone.  From that time forward she never wavered, never quit working, and always persevered.  Best of all, she did it with spirit!  She has made her mark in this world and it has been an important one.

At a time when her life is nearing its end, it has been wonderful to recall all these memories.  I'm sure that we, her children, will all have our own slant on memories of Mom, but I know that for each of us, what we recall will be the truth as we remember it, and it will be pleasant and good to think about.

I am left with anxiety about all the many memories I haven't had time or haven't remembered in time to write, but this one thing I must add!  I don't believe that while I lived at home in Baker, I ever heard Mom get up in church to bear her testimony and I know she was frightened of doing so.  However, I am sure none of us doubted that she had one.  Her very life was a testimony!

On a visit to us here in Farmington, New Mexico, Mom stood in a Relief Society meeting and bore a very heartfelt testimony because she said she wanted Mary and I to hear it.  Her legs shook so hard she could hardly stand and she had to hold on to the chair in front of her, but she did it and it was beautiful and very touching.

Her testimony directed her actions during her lifetime.  She always knew that Joseph Smith, the Prophet, restored the true gospel of Jesus Christ to the earth by direction of the Savior, and she worked very hard to do her part within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.