Tales For Tuesdays

I’m going to try and write down memories I have – for my little lovelies who always ask “Tell me a story of when you were a kid . . .”

I’m going to call them “Tales for Tuesdays” – and will try to write one a week . . . unless of course something else happens. In which case I won’t.

  • One of the times I completely and utterly failed at life We went to the Provo temple open house and there were beautiful murals on the walls in the rooms. And it reminded me of this story. When I was at BYU I worked at the Mechanical shop. Lest you’re like me and think the mechanical shop means I worked on cars, let me correct you. The ...
  • My Own Miracle of Healing I went to see “Ephraim’s Rescue” at the theaters tonight with Wyatt. In the movie there is a touching scene where a young man in the Martin Handcart Company was given a blessing of healing by Ephraim Hanks. Despite his severely frost bitten feet, he was blessed that his limbs would be saved. That same night ...
  • I Love to See the Temple If I back-date it to Tuesday, then it count’s as a Tale for Tuesday, right?       When I was sixteen I spent one wild adventurous semester living with my aunt in St. George. Activities included Saturdays spent branding cattle at the Esplin family ranch, working on my ever-popular cousin’s student body election (win), going on some of ...
  • A Christmas Tale for Tuesday Since Christmas is falling on a Tuesday this year, I thought it befitting to have a “Tale for Tuesday” be a Christmas story . . .   When I was in eleventh grade I wrote a short story for my Lit Mag class. I remember reading it to my mom from the back seat of our suburban ...
  • It was Bad Luck One weekend, the summer after our freshman year of college, I was invited to go camping with Andi and her family. I grew up going camping with the Kierst’s. Chris, a geologist for the state of Utah, knew all the best back country camp spots. The place we determined to go that particular weekend was ...
  • First Kiss When I was five my grandpa Brock died. And since my parents were hauling us all to southern Callifornia for a funeral anyway, I guess they decided to make big deal out of it. Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, and Sea World. And it was at Sea World that an employee at the Shamu show came and asked ...
  • Oklahoma! The spring of fifth grade we decided to ride our bikes to Oklahoma. I don’t remember how this decision came about, but it was as real, and we were as determined, as could be! Andi had a map of the United States on her wall – one of those Disneyland-esque maps with cartoons of each states’ ...
  • Uncle Terry This special edition of “Tales for Tuesday” is printed on Sunday, especially for Uncle Terry. Where do you even start when you’re talking about Uncle Terry? In my family he was known as “Terry 1″ because we had a plethora of Uncles by that name, but he was always first. Uncle Terry could never talk without ...
  • Painting the Roses Red
    Or, dying the towels pink
    When I was nineteen I spent a semester living in Moscow. And one time we went on a grand trip through northern Russia, across the border to Helsinki, Finland where this story begins, and then across the Baltic to Stockholm, Sweden, where this story ends. Now, we start in Helsinki, where we arrived at five am after ...
  • Our Very First Valentines Day tonight i am typing on my laptop – something i try to avoid ever since calvin got a hold of it last spring and busted some keys – including the all important ‘shift’ – there will be no capitalization tonight. i may go back later to try and fix it. then again, i may not.     ten ...
  • Wednesday was Andi’s Birthday So I was going to write a “Tales for Tuesday” for her, and publish it on Wednesday. But Wednesday I forgot, I was participating in an online protest. So today she shall have her story.   When Andi and I were eleven or twelve years old we would on occasion walk ourselves a mile down the road to ...
  • Estonian Honey   When I was nineteen I spent a semester living in Moscow, teaching English as a second language to ten year olds. But that’s another story. While there we went on a trip where we visited Helsinki, Stockholm, and Tallinn, Estonia. And it’s at the port in Tallinn where this story begins. We had left Moscow a week earlier, sharing ...
  • Two Travel Tales Today I will feature two Tales for Tuesday – because they’re both short. One: The Time I was Smooshed By a Large Lady while Crash Landing in a Hot Air Balloon When I was in third, maybe fourth grade, I went on a trip to Palm Springs, California, where we took a hot air balloon ride. I’m not ...
  • The Roof The house in which I grew up, which was (and is) referred to as simply, “The Yellow House,” had a very steep roof. This was a simple fact of my childhood, confirmed into impressive reality when my brother-in-law, Lance, who roofed houses as a profession for a time, gave his considered opinion that the house ...
  • Flaming Soccer   Today is Emily Elmer’s Birthday (who is no longer Emily Elmer, but Emily Bowers instead). And so I thought it would be good to write a story about living on the Indian Reservation. While we lived on the Res. it behooved us to make friends with some of the local kids. Great kids that the world was ...
  • The story of how we were attacked by
    two dobermans while
    innocently trespassing one day . . .
      This story is dedicated to Carrie, because she wanted me to write this one. When I was probably about thirteen or so, we decided to have a grand adventure. Don’t ask me exactly who all “we” were – I remember my cousin Hazen was there because he whined about the experience all the rest of our ...
  • Singing in the Dark
    AKA The Time They Called Search & Rescue
    When I was about fourteen my cousin, Anna and I decided to go on an evening ride. Our plan was to head up Corner Canyon. When I was growing up, the entire South Mountain was owned by one family. There were dirt trails where kids rode their horses or bikes, and one shabby coral with sad ...
  • The Story of how I was almost hit by a Semi Truck while climbing a tree one fine afternoon The summer before Junior High was a weird one. Perhaps that’s a bit vague. But  I can’t think of any other way to describe it. I was about to start at a new school — a big school that I had only dared to ride past on my bike in the early morning before too ...
  • Swirling The sun slanted at the late autumn angle. The horses picked their way over the canal and out into the field, the hay cut low from the farmer’s plow, the fallow littered on the frosty earth. Andi and I rode in silence. It was too cold to have anything to say, still, the light was ...

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