My dad and mom had a common cousin, Ray Moulton. My mom's maiden name was Moulton and Ray's mother was a Giles (my dad's mom's maiden name was Giles). He was married to a very interesting woman. She spoke with a Midwestern accent of some sort. I would guess it was close to a Minnesota accent. She dressed very different than Heber people. She wore dark baggy skirts and a jacket and sometimes a hat She had a twinkle in her eye like she knew something that no one else knew. She looked kind of like a bag lady with money. Ray and Sunny never had any children.
One time when came into town, she took my cousin Jane and I to Forsey's (five and dime) store to buy us something fun. I remember walking around and around the store trying to decide what we would like. We were about 8 years old. I remember that while we were with her, no store clerks followed us around to make sure we didn't steal anything. She never rushed us; just patiently let us look at every plastic figure and every jacks set and jump rope. We loved her. She was very funny. Her name was Sunny. I didn't know what her real name was until last year. It was Hazel.
Sunny walked us to the store which was only a couple of blocks away. We passed by Safeway, my dad's barbershop (a different one than the one I described in a previous post), Christensens clothing store, Heber Drug store and the bank building. When we turned the corner we passed the telephone company, J. Harold Call's law office and then the Wave office. That's where the local newspaper was printed. I liked to look into the telephone company office. They had windows top to bottom and we could watch the operators sitting side by side in front of a huge switchboard like Lily Tomlin had saying "Number please." They moved their hands up and down at an amazing rate of speed connecting and disconnecting callers by plugging in keys in the right spot to complete the call.
My phone number back then was 339. That was all. We would pick up our phone that had no dial on it. The operator would ask ask for the number and then say "Just a moment please". We'd then be connected to our party. To disconnect, all we'd have to do is hang up. My aunt Helen worked for the phone company when she was young. They had a policy that you could not be married and work there. She got married and hid the fact from her family and the public for months because she needed the work. Finally the story got out and she had to quit.
One night before I was born,(when my Aunt Helen was still employed there) there was a fire on the block I just described. The phone company stayed open all night to take emergency calls even though the water being sprayed on the fire was running down the phone company's walls. They needed to keep the power on to that building and keep the phones running so the emergency personnel could be contacted throughout the fire. My Aunt Helen got a commendation for her dedication.
Years later when I was in the 9th grade that building burned again. My dad was called to let him know his barbershop was in danger. We headed up to see if they would let us retrieve anything. It was too late. But we ended up watching it burn. We watched dad's shop go from looking like it might be spared to lighting up brilliant white as the floor dropped out of it before being engulfed in flames. All those stores had a common attic and floor. The fire burned to the bank building that had a wall of sandstone between it and the burning buildings. It was like fireworks on the fourth of July.
Unfortunately, I didn't handle the smoke so well. And when I think of the toxic chemicals that were released into the air from the aerosol cans of pesticides to the plastics and refrigerants, I am not surprised at my reaction. The next morning I woke up with giant hives that made my face swell beyond recognition. The bottoms of my feet were no longer flat, but convex so that my toes didn't touch the ground when I tried to walk. They looked like tiny sausages. I kept feeling like I was going to pass out. They hauled me in to Dr. Green's office and he gave me a cortisone shot and benadryl. I was swollen for about a week and couldn't go to school.
When I finally went back to school, I remember sitting in Health class scratching my arms and then my back and my legs. Pretty soon everyone around me was scratching their arms and their heads and the itching was moving from me throughout the class. They were having sympathy itching. It was an interesting lesson that day in Mr. Tolley's class learning about the power of a yawn or an itch. For years I was highly reactive to pesticides and would swell up when I was exposed to them. But, after about 10 years, I went back to my odd little self.
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