I suppose one of the advantages of writing about my youth when I have little recollection is that I can only image I was the perfect child. While out children have a large store of photographs to help keep their memories fresh, I have only a few pictures during my youth. The early memory I have was when I was my 6th birthday and I was giving a balsa wood version of the paper airplane. I only remember going to the upper story window in our house and throwing it out to watch it glide down.

During my tenth year, my parents purchased a summer home near Sterling Utah, a small town approximately 130 miles south of Salt Lake City. The “ranch”, as it became known, became a place where there were unlimited possibilities for manual labor.

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The place evolved into varying types of businesses, centered around a resort type atmosphere. Initially we spent only the summertime at the ranch, but once a furnace was installed we also went down in the wintertime. Leaving on Friday afternoon and returning early Monday morning became a particular problem for a high school boy since it left little opportunity for a social life.
I recall spending Sunday mornings watching the water flow down the self made irrigation ditches. I really disliked doing this type of work, but then I wasn’t too disappointed about missing the Church meetings. I never understood the purpose in spending all weekend working on a place if there was never time for other activities.
Maybe I am painting a somewhat inaccurate picture since there were times for recreation. We had horses and later a boat.

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Next I will write about my teenage years, when I am quite sure I was the perfect teenager.