In the heat

In the heat of a warm day on the front range in Colorado. Don’t usually think of Colorado being near or at above 100 degrees F. But the air is dry and there is a breeze coming from somewhere. The trees in from of me crackle and then quits for a while. As I walk through the browning grass, I was suddenly remembering those around me who have died.

I thought of my life time friend Jeff Sevren who passed away early in December in 2020. We have so many stories to tell of our mischievous early lives on Wolf Creek. It was country then at the base of Casper Mountain in the 60’s. I couldn’t drive then because I was not yet 16, nor did I have a car. The cabin looking house buried in sagebrush and small trees was 1/2 mile or less down that same winding dusty road down to Jeff’s house. This mysterious dwelling was rumored to be a whore house in the day. The owners last name was the Murray’s who had an adult daughter. I never saw anyone from there or even drive up the road and wave hello. More than once we snuck down there to see if we could a look in windows. No such luck but it was fun just trying. We found a semi rotting sheep heading wagon there. It had a stove and a tearing canvas

It became a modern fort for us until it rained or snowed. But it was fun and adventurous post Boy Scout training.

Life in Paradise Valley

{Chapter one}

Look a little closer.
Life in Paradise Valley was covered by secrets that no one talked about. I thought it was odd that they rarely slept in the same bed except for when we were on trips or at grandma’s house.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
My family got its start sometime during WWII. My oldest brother,Billy, was born about 1940. Dad was in wwll and wrote to my mother beginning in 1945 numerous times. In fact I have a copy of those letters, dad went back to USA two years later. He was in the infantry.
Dad or Basil had been working for an oil company out of California. Then the draft got him with one child born before they were married. I’m sure that was quite the story of a daughtrmayor’s son and a dentistry families. They both came from Mormon families in southern Utah. After Billy, five more of us were born.
The oldest three Bill, Steve and Mary were born exactly four years apart on July 13 th. The towns they lived in had a yearly celebration of this fact. The rest of us were born August 12, November 25 and me in January 2nd. The day Rita was born, the cat got on the dinner table and ate the turkey, or at least tried. The joke about my birthday was that dad lost an extra tax credit for child number 5. I should explain that Bill was first number 1, Steven was number 2 and had curly red hair. Mary was a good student and loved to cook. Or at least, I got the benefit of fresh bread and cookies. She is number 3 and the oldest one left. Then comes Margaret number 4 in August, shy by 30 days of joining the pac. However, she was the prettiest and won jr college queen at Casper College and went on to place in the Wyoming beauty contest.
Then there was me, son number number 3 and child number 5. I am the one I know about the most. I was quiet and found it difficult to find my place in a family of 6. I was angry and no one ever figured out why, except my self at about age 30.
I will tell that story in a later chapter. This meant to be an introductory chapter into our 50’s family.
I spent too much thinking and no one
Seemed interested.
I always had a bottom drawer in my roomfull of things I could build. I started out as a ray gun and it proceeded to amateur radio. I even created a metered dipole antenna on our house when I was in the 8th grade. That was after I became an Amateur Radio operator, WN7HIE. My science teacher created a radio club, meeting in the classroom closet. I still know parts of periodic tables. That was fun.

We had many pets that should be included but my favorite was Larky, a border collie that was black and white. Most of the older kids we’re involved in school and we’re away from home. So my mom thought that the dog was lonely and gave her to a farmer. I was shocked that she gave away our dog on Valentines Day! I bit the dust and kept quiet and cried.
## My parents {##

Chapter 2
Maybe I should do a chapter about my parents. Remember this is my recollection of my childhood and is not based on exact dates or numbers.
My mother Merlene was a dark haired slim and pretty about 5’2 and was a dancer at 14 and the daughter of a dentist who worked at a lead mines in the mountains near Payson, Ut. Apparently he never made the income we would expect today. But he was wonderful and we called him “Grandpa Doc.” He used to play checkers with me and let me win once in a while. And also fixed partial hard boiled eggs that we ate them out a little cup with a special spoon. He all ways struggled with is weight and wore pants like bosses in “Blondi.” Cartoon strip. I missed his funeral as I was in my first year of college and could not afford to go, about 1972.
My mother’s mother, Verna, died when I was too young to remember. However I remember my grandma Meda and could lay out a six course meal in a heartbeat as could most women at that time. As could my lm mom but we did not live in Utah but in Worland, Wyoming. We had no family there except Mormon families. But it was not like Utah family. Great food and wet sloppy lipstick laced kisses when we were little.
My father Basil came from a smaller town Santiquin, Ut. This town barely had paved streets that I can remember. My Broadbent grandpa never said a word that I can remember; he would point to what he wanted at dinner time.
## Continuing

Back to grandpa Broadbent. He did own a car dealership; I think a Chevrolet shop. Also he was mayor of Santiquin, who was successful in installing the first paved road. I still don’t understand his loss of speaking. They did run a small farm, including chickens and pigs. My uncle, Leon, threatened to throw me in the pig corral. Moreover, when we visited from Wyoming, I would run to the chicken coup to check on the chickens. One time I saw a chicken running around with it’s head missing. I guess that was their their way of preparing for Sunday’s dinner. There is a mention of him being citizen of the year.
Now my grandma Broadbent deserves a whole chapter! She was person who showed me unconditionally love. She made us Huge crepes on a 12” almost flat pan. They earned the legacy name of “Grandma Pancakes.” They were mostly egg, sugar and vanilla. My dad always cooked them in butter. Then you could wrap them around fresh fruit and just about anything else. She was always excited to see us and smothered us with those lipstick kisses and hugs! I cried every time we had to go back to Wy. You see, my mother was not a hugger nor showered me with kisses. She may have been overwhelmed with six children and struggling to be the expected housewife and mother.
However, she could out sew and cook anyone. One year she sewed both of my sister’s wedding dresses and maid of honors’ out fits as well. She had neighbors knocking on our door for projects.

Evening with Grandson

We had the most excellent time with 25 year old grandson Mikey last night. We had planned a burger dinner that he was going to make us, of which he does a great job. However he decided to get us carry out steak dinners. I had a tenderloin medium rare with fries and a house salad. It was so good and melted in my mouth. Kay had her usual well done sirloin with broccoli and enjoyed it very much.

Then we played a family favorite game Farkle. Which is a six dice game based on chance, no skill needed but a blast to play. We played three games and people were clapping and yelling at the shear joy of chance. It was so fun just to laugh out loud and enjoy each other.

It was so fun to laugh and it became infectious as we played. It has been such a long time. Find time to laugh loudly!

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Trying to be consistent

With the remodeling still going on, it’s hard to be consistent about anything, besides eating, sleeping and being depressed that I work too slow. It’s hard to get up and down. from the floor without running out of air.

Flooring is 7/16ths of premium laminate spiced oak. Harder to put down than I thought but beautiful one a complete room is done.

Photo by Pixabay on

I Grew Up on Misery

I grew up on misery,

And learned the art of solitude,

Make no noise and received no promises,

Because they were few.

But the grief I carry, in my gut 

Has built a tapestry of shame.

I’m from the woods of the North Platte,

I’m from Paradise Valley

I’m from the golf course of despair 

(following could be an old fashioned blues rant)

I ain’t got lawn of green

Nor a tree standing straight 

Not a daddy I could count on

Not a simple faith to grow

Not from them but I learned

How to love from my enduring best friend,

My life’s partner.

It’s been forty six years since

Those mistakes they made

Sing the Blues

Sing the Blues 

Cause there’s no other way to make it rhyme.

Sing the Blues