The Iron Horse. . . .A Little Girls Memories. . . .

A steam engine locomotive in Nevada (Caliente?) in the mid 1930s

Chugging through a Utah landscape in the mid 1930s

Muggles wanted to go outside very early this morning. Even though

it was still dark, I went out with her and watched as she explored

every nook and cranny of the courtyard. I enjoyed the cool breeze

that was gently soothing away some of the heat of the previous

day. This is my favorite time. It is my time for reflection, my time

to explore the wonderful memories that are tucked away in my

heart.

As I sat there, I heard the OOoo ooOO of a train whistle and the

Ding-Ding-Ding of the railroad crossing bell as the gate came

down. Immediately, I was transported back to another time and

another place.

I have always been fascinated by the sights and sounds of the old

steam engine locomotives, the "Iron Horse", as they were called

when I was a child. Caliente was 15 miles from Panaca and was

home to one of the Union Pacific Round House Railroad Stations.

From the time I was a little girl, a favorite pastime was to go to

Caliente and watch those amazing steam engine locomotives

pull into the station. Even before you saw the train, you would

hear the blast of the train whistle. The whistle on the old steam

engines was called a 'mechanical bell whistle". The blast, when

the engineer blew the whistle, was a delightful sound caused by

super heated steam being forced through the smoke stack of

the locomotive. WHoOO!, and then the thunder of the wheels

as the train roared into the station. The sound is everywhere,

inside of you, outside of you. Then just for good measure, the

engineer blows the whistle again. WHoOO!

I remember being six years old and standing on the train

platform with my parents and my brother, David, who was

eight. Mom and Dad were putting us on the train to go to

Salt Lake City, Utah. We were going to stay for two weeks

with our sister, Theresa, and her husband, LeGrande.

WHoOO! The towering black and grey monster roared

into the station. The huge steel cylinders were dripping a

watery black grease and plumes of black smoke billowed

from the smoke stack. Steam hissed steadily as it rolled

to a stop. I remember jumping backwards and releasing

a long drawn out AaaaH! as I was overcome by awe and

wonder.

I watched the flurry of activity on the platform as people

rushed around; passengers collected their belongings,

stewards hurried by with baggage carts piled high with

luggage, and hugs and kisses were exchanged as loved ones

bid their goodbyes. Mom and Dad gave us into the care of

a pretty stewardess, admonished us to be good and do every

thing she asks of us, kissed us goodbye and stepped back as

the conductor called his "ALL ABoarrrD! The last

passengers hurried to board as the stewardess settled us

into a window seat facing the front of the train and pinned

tags with our name, parent's name and address, and

Theresa's name and address onto our clothes. I clutched

the cuddly rag doll mother had made for me tighter in my

arms and gazed around with wide eyes. I was actually

sitting in a passenger car pulled by one of those huge

locomotives! I will never forget the many sounds as the

engine prepared to leave the station. The passenger cars

stretched out far behind it and the conductor was now

standing on the red caboose at the end of the train.

Suddenly, WHOosh! I got goose bumps and my spine

tingled as the train started to roll forward, past the

station, and we were leaving. I looked out the window and

saw Mom and Dad smiling at us and waving. The engineer

blew the whistle, WHoOO! as the conductor signaled the

all clear. The OOoo ooOO echoed all around us and

soon all of the cars were moving. WHOompH! CLang!

CRash! ClacK - ClanK!, as the heavy engine and cars

begin to roll across the gaps between the rail sections.

Ka-WHOosh! CLang-CRash! WHOompH! And

then a steady and soothing Tick-Tickety-Tick as the

great Iron Horse picked up speed and settled into it's

traveling gait. We looked out the window in wonder as

the landscape rushed by and it seemed like we had

just began our voyage when we heard the Ding-Ding-

Ding as the crossing gate came down and we were

pulling into Modena, Utah. There were no passengers

getting off or on the train there and we were soon on our

way again. Before we even had time to think about it,

the stewardess came and got us to go to the diner car for

lunch. We felt very grown up sitting in an elegant booth

and being served by a waiter in a uniform. I don't

remember what our lunch was but I do remember that

we had ice cream for dessert.

After we settled back into our seats, David played with

the wooden train and blocks he had brought and I spent

time describing the sights rushing by the window to Dolly.

I think we both took a nap, lulled to sleep by the soothing

symphony of the train rushing along the tracks, Tick-

Tickety-Tick. After awhile the stewardess came and

told us she had a surprise for us. Holding our hands, she

walked us through the train cars until we were standing

on the observation platform of the caboose. We were

approaching the famous Horseshoe Curve built into the

tracks through one of the canyons. At a certain point,

you can see the engine with the smoke billowing from

the smoke stack, the long line of cars curving into a

graceful half circle, and the little red caboose trailing

along with jaunty flair, in one amazing picture. The

engineer blew the whistle, WHoOO! as a signal to those

who wanted to take pictures. Some sights, no matter how

young you are, you never forget, and this is one of them.

It seemed just a very short time after we returned to our

seats that the conductor came into our car and said we

were approaching the Salt Lake City station. He told all

of us to make sure we collected our belongings and to

gather up any trash we had accumulated. The stewardess

came and told David and I to remain in our seats until she

had helped the other passengers leave the train and she

would be back for us. WHoOO!, and then with a loud

CLang-CLang-CLang! WHOosh! HisssSS!, the

mighty engine rolled to a stop.

Theresa and LeGrande were waiting for us with huge

smiles on their faces. The stewardess took us to them,

checked all information and identification, told Theresa

how good we had been, hugged us and waved, as she

walked away. We went into the station and as LeGrande

left to claim our luggage, Theresa asked, "Did you have a

good trip? Was it fun? We were both talking at once as

LeGrande came with our luggage and we walked to the

car.

Suddenly, we heard ALL ABoarrD! Ka-WHOosh!

CLang! CRash! CLack-CLanK! Once again, I got

goose bumps and my spine tingled as with a last WHoOO!,

a plume of black smoke rising from the smoke stack, and a

HisssSS! of steam, the mighty Iron Horse rushed out of

the station on the way to it's next stop. For a little girl from

the tiny town of Panaca, this was a dream come true. It

had been a beautiful, wondrous day!

In the next several years, I repeated this trip two more

times. Once with David and Delores and once with Delores.

The excitement and fun of riding on the mighty Iron

Horse had not diminished at all. It was still a wondrous day!

Happy Anniversary To Us!. . . .

Just a very short post to put it in writing that George and I
are celebrating our 59th wedding anniversary today.

It has been a wonderful life, a great run! It seems hard to
believe that many years have passed since the day two
barely 20 year old sweethearts stood in Mrs. Free's
beautiful yard amid a riot of beautiful flowers and said
"I Do".

There, we pledged to love, honor, and obey each other.
For all of these years, we have covered the love and honor
thing pretty faithfully. George would say that on more
than one occasion, I have failed in the obey category.
Maybe that is what has kept it interesting.

Seriously, today I have so much to thank George for.
I thank him for taking such good care of me and our
children. I thank him for the long hours he always
worked to give us beautiful homes and many things to
make our lives so much fun. I thank him for being such
a wonderful father for Paul, Rhonda, and Craig. I thank
him for being my best friend. I thank him for a broad
shoulder to cry on. I thank him for his steadfast support
even when it may not be warranted. I thank him for
making me laugh (but not always at his corny jokes.) I
thank him for putting up with all of my idiosyncrasy's
even when I know some of them drive him crazy (dolls
and bears, anyone?) I thank him for loving and honoring
my parents and loving my siblings as his own. I thank
him for his humble service to his country, his church
and his fellow men, never asking for anything in return.
I thank him for being a loving, caring, and very involved
granddad and great grandfather. I thank him for being my
own personal "Chef", more delicious meals served than
I could ever count. I thank him for indulging my silly
whims and hearts desires. These are just a few of the
hundreds and hundreds of things I wish to thank him
for.

Most of all, I thank him for loving me for all of these
many years, so Happy Anniversary, George! I love you
more than you will ever know!

The Day Dawn Is Breaking, The World Is Awaking. . . .

Ina Mae Wadsworth and Nevada Deon Fisher

There is nothing more beautiful than being outside as the glory of
daybreak appears. There is nothing more magnificent than watching
dawn, the first light of day, unfold.

Very early this morning, I was watering the plants in our courtyard
and enjoying the cool gentle breeze that was stirring the leaves in the
large tree that is just outside our gate. The grackles that nest in the
tree were beginning to call to each other. I stood for a few minutes
listening and watched as the adults took flight.

I could feel the stillness of the early morning as the first light
appeared in the sky. I was thinking to myself that "nature hums as
morning comes". Two small geckos ran up the wall of the courtyard
and a humming bird darted in to taste the nectar of the oleander tree.
The blooms on my hollyhocks glistened with drops of morning dew.

I was fascinated as a hint of pink color began to appear in the sky.
The clouds were filled with pastel colors as the sun began to appear
over the horizon and tinted them with the colors of a rainbow The
early morning air was filled with the smells of a world awaking. I
stood transfixed as I listened to the plaintive call of the mourning
doves. For some reason, their call always makes me feel sad. The
first sunbeams soon added to the drama and the morning light was
shining bright at the dawning of this beautiful new day.

As I stood their marveling at the wonder of it, my mind spun back
to an early morning when I was a gloriously happy twelve year old
girl living in the beautiful little town of Panaca. Often in the late
spring as it was beginning to get warm after the long cold winter,
my best friend Nevada Deon Fisher and I would plan an early
morning hike. We were anxious to experience the beauty of nature
as it celebrated awaking to the dawn of a new season. There were
new leaves on the trees. The dormant grasses were turning green.
The annual flowers were budding. There were new babies in the
corrals and pastures.

It was a tradition of ours to take this first spring hike and cook our
breakfast outdoors. Our favorite place was a stretch of pastures
belonging to Dad and his brother, my beloved Uncle Lafe. These
pastures were located near the Spring. There was a stream running
through them and several stands of willow trees. They were beautiful
with their new leaves. We cleared an area under the trees near the
stream. We carefully selected large smooth rocks and carried them to
our cleared area where we fashioned a fire ring. We each carried a
knapsack. In our knapsacks we each carried a few matches, a
potato, an onion, one or two eggs, several slices of bacon, and some
baking powder biscuits my mother had baked for us. We had our
mess kit, a potato peeler, some cooking oil, hot chocolate mix. a little
ketchup and some jelly. One of us carried a skillet and the other
a pan for heating water.

We gathered kindling to start a fire. When it was burning, we added a
larger log or two. First we peeled and fried our potatoes and onions.
Then we cooked our bacon, saving some grease to scramble our eggs.
We laughed and talked as we cooked and ate our breakfast. We sang
at the top of our lungs. A song we loved to sing was one of the Nevada
state songs, "My Name Is Just Nevada". Instead of singing the line, "I
was born in 64" (Nevada became a state in 1864), we would sing, "I
was born in 31", (the year of our birth). Then, we would make up
words to fit the tune and sing of our adventures. Oh, we thought we
were so great!

We were always very careful to put our fire out by pouring water
from the stream over it until the coals were no longer red. We washed
our dishes in the stream and put all of our trash in a bag to take home.

We were usually cooking our breakfast as the new day dawned and the
sun came up. We watched the horned toads and lizards dart onto the
rocks to bask as the first warm sunbeams appeared. We listened to
the birds sing so beautifully in the early spring morning and the
plaintive W00-00-00-00 of the mourning doves. We laughed at the
pocket mice who began to venture out of their burrows to see if
we had left a crumb or two for them to enjoy. We hunted for four
leaf clovers and made our wishes when we found one. We watched
the horses and cattle waking up in the pastures. We picked our first
bouquets of wild flowers to take home to our mothers.

We were young! We were happy! We were best friends forever, and
we were "Growing Up Ina and Nevada" in our beautiful little "heaven
on earth", Panaca!

A bit Of Woolworth Trivia. . . .

Salt Lake City and the Magleby family were a central part of my
story about F. W. Woolworth Co. After reading the story, Bruce,
the youngest of the children of LeGrande and Theresa, replied
with this interesting bit of Woolworth trivia. He was not yet born
when I was living with his parents in 1949 and 1950 and so was
not a part of the story. However, the Woolworth tradition of the
family's shopping there, obviously continued after his birth.

I thought the family would be interested in reading it and decided
that instead of posting it as a comment to my story, Iwould share
it with you.

Hello Aunt Ina and Uncle George,

I liked reading your latest blog about Woolworths. I sure did like
checking out the menu.

From age 9 to 13, I worked as a janitor before and after school at
my elementary school. I made $40.00 a month, about 80 cents
an hour. I thought I was rich. I guess I was since prices were so
low. Those were the days, they were simpler. Today, you have
to be 14 to even have the janitor helper job. At age 9, I was plenty
capable to handle the job. Brandon had the same job a few years
ago and the school takes it so serious now, it is sad.

In the third grade or so, my parents bought me a Schwin three
speed bike. I wanted to ride it to school, but was afraid it would
get stolen. My dad and I went to Woolworths and picked out a
combination lock so I could lock up my new bike. I was afraid I
would forget the combination so my Dad and I checked out many
different locks and found one with an easy combination to remember.
It was 36-6-16.

Love,
Bruce

Memories of F. W. Woolworth Co. . . . .

A 1957 Menu from F. W. Woolworth Co - My generation's fast food!
If any of you have any doubt about what we paid for a coke and a
sandwich at Woolworth's in the 1950's, here's proof of the era we
lived in.

A friend sent this to me and the memories it brought to mind are
so wonderful and in such vivid detail that I decided to write about
them.

Woolworth's was the most well know of those glorious five and ten
cent stores that delighted children and adults of all ages. My first
memory of shopping at a five and ten cent store was when I visited
my sister, Theresa, in Salt Lake City in the 1930s. In was so
exciting for a child to go into a store where they could purchase a
treasure for just a few cents. It was so difficult to make a decision
with so many wonderful items on display. Often Delores, David and
I were all visiting her at the same time. She would take us to shop
at the huge Woolworth store downtown where she would wait
patiently for us to decide how we were going to spend our dimes,
nickles, and pennies. We would then stop at the lunch counter
and soda fountain and she would treat us to an ice cream sundae,
float, or malt.

Later, in 1949 and 1950 when I was living in Salt Lake City with
Theresa and LeGrande, F. W. Woolworth Co. was a very important
part of my life. As I have mentioned in previous stories, I was
working at Bekins Freight Line to earn money to pay my tuition at
the LDS Business College and have orthodontics done to straighten
my teeth. My orthodontist, Dr. Chase, had his office downtown near
Temple Square. Bekins was on the other side of town. I would make
my appointments for late afternoon when I finished work and ride
the bus from there to downtown. Woolworth's was near Dr. Chase's
office. I soon found out that after he adjusted my braces my
mouth would be too sore to eat. I began to allow myself time to stop
there for a quick bite to eat. I would order my favorite egg salad
sandwich and a chocolate malt. Sometimes if I was feeling rich, I
loved the bacon and tomato sandwich. I carried my toothbrush in my
purse and after eating, would run into the restroom and brush my
teeth before heading for Dr. Chase's office.

My two little nephews, Jimmy and Karl, loved to ride the bus. I
often took them downtown for a trip to the zoo or to spend some
of their allowance at Woolworth's. I remember during the Christmas
season of 1949 when Jimmy was eight and Karl was 6, they wanted
to go Christmas shopping to buy presents for their parents and their
baby sister, Lois Marie. So on a cold and snowy day, they put on their
snow boots, scarves, hats, and gloves and we rode the bus downtown
to the Woolworth store. They very carefully chose gifts for their
parents and then agonized for a very long time over which stuffed
animal to buy for Lois Marie. They were buying it together and so
had to agree, which didn't prove to be an easy thing. I don't recall
what they finally decided on. After they finished shopping, we went
to the lunch counter where they ordered the hot chocolate with lots
of whipped cream and sugar wafers.

When George and I were first married and he was in the Navy, we
lived in a darling apartment on Fourth Ave. in Hillcrest, a suberb
of San Diego. Each Saturday when he did not have duty, we would
ride the bus to downtown San Diego and get off on Broadway near
the old Horton Plaza. We would walk the short distance to a cleaners
where for $1.50, the sailor boys could have their uniforms cleaned
and pressed. While we were waiting for them, if we had the money,
we would go to a movie at the theater in the Plaza. More often, we
sat at the fountain in the Plaza and watched the people and all of the
weekend activities, or just walked Broadway window shopping. We
always stopped at Woolworth's for an ice cream treat before riding
the bus back to Hillcrest. I always had a chocolate malt or a chocolate
ice cream soda. George's favorite was the super jumbo banana split.
Those were wonderful days. We were so happy we didn't realize how
little money we had, we were just enjoying our life together.

In the 1960's, we were living in El Cajon, California. Paul, Rhonda,
and Craig loved to go to downtown San Diego. Whatever we chose to
do that day, we often ended it with a stop at Woolworth's. They
loved to shop there where they could find so many bargains to spend
their allowance. They always wanted to get a treat at the soda
fountain when they were through shopping. If it was was winter,
like Jimmy and Karl before them, they loved the hot chocolate
It was still served the same way, with lots of whipped cream and
those wonderful sugar wafers. In the summer, they all wanted an
ice cream soda. Like his father, Paul also liked the banana split
and Rhonda and Craig liked the de luxe tulip sundaes. I think they
liked them because they were served in the cute tulip shaped dishes.

Yes, Woolworth's was an important part of my life from the time I
was a little girl. I had the pleasure of sharing it's excitement with
my wonderful big sister, little nephews, my handsome sailor
husband and then my own children. I was sad when they began to
close them. That wonderful era of those glorious "Five and Ten
Cent Stores" was at an end, but I am grateful to have been able
to experience it.

In the 1950s, Bing Crosby sang a song whose lyrics went like this:

"It was a lucky April shower, it was the most convenient door,
I found a million dollar baby, in a five and ten cent store.
The rain continued for an hour, I hung around for three or four,
Around a million dollar baby in a five and ten cent store."

I would love to hear comments of your memories of shopping
and eating at F. W. Woolworth Co. or any of the other glorious
five and ten cent stores.

Muggles is Five. . . .

I've been a good girl. Do I get a birthday present?

What's in here?

A bear and some cookies! Yummm! I'll eat first!

This is my biggest bear so far.

Oh Boy, Oh Boy, it has five sqeakers!

Mom says I better not rip them out!

Muggles celebrated her 5th birthday this month. We took these

pictures of her as she opened her gift. She loved her new bear

but being the chowhound she is, momentarily pushed it aside while

she ate her frosted cookies. Then, it was back to her new bear.

"Wow", she said, "I have never had a toy with five squeakers!"

It doesn't seem possible that it has been almost five years since

Muggles came to live with us when she was just a tiny puppy.

When I first started my search for a Norfolk Terrier puppy, I

had no idea it would be so difficult to find one, and if I did, how

in the world could I convince George that I needed one. And,

if I could convince him, how could we afford one?

The first thing I would do each morning is check all of the ads

featuring dogs for sale on the Internet. On February 16, 2005,

I found an ad posted my Missy StCyr in Baton Rouge, La. She

had two Norfolk puppies for sale, a male and a female. Since

these dogs would have no breeding rights, she was selling for

a reasonable price. Still expensive, but one I thought I could

convince George we could afford. Since my pleading, whining,

and tears were beginning to get on his nerves, he finally

agreed that I needed my own little Norfolk.

That battle won, next I had to convince Missy that out of the

eleven families who wanted a puppy, George and I were the

most deserving. I lobbied hard to convince her, all of it done

by e-mail. At that time, we were visiting in Panaca and Cedar

City, so I was using Pete and Delores' and Justin's computers.

I had lots of good help and suggestions. Lisa was at her parents

home and Paul and Joanne were also in Cedar City. Lisa

answered a couple of e-mails when I was not available and put

in a good word for me, and Justin did the same in Cedar City.

I swamped Missy with stories of all of the dogs in my life from

the time I was a little girl, and about the dogs in my children's

lives as they were growing up and after they married and

established their own homes.

On March 6th, it was official. Missy notified me that she had

chosen George and I to have a puppy. She told me later that

I was a good storyteller and her decision to pick us was based

in large part on those stories. I wanted the female but she

told me that a woman had put a deposit on a puppy before I

contacted her and so she would get first choice. Fortunately,

her sons and husband wanted a male dog which Paula named

Paddington. That meant I had achieved my heart's desire, a

beautiful little red Norfolk female puppy. Missy had kept the

third puppy from the litter, a female she named Isabella.

That took us to the finale hurdle. . . .how to get her to Mesa

from Baton Rouge. Missy refused to fly her cargo and so

George got an early morning flight for Tuesday, April 13th,

met Missy at the airport, picked up Muggles and flew right

back to Phoenix.

And, the rest is history. We have been completely captivated

by this sweet, loving, bossy, sassy, funny, and mischievous

little dog. She weaves her spell on most of those who meet

her. We are very fortunate and very grateful to have her in

our lives. Happy 5th birthday, Muggles! We love you!

Okay!

That was fun!

A Special Tribute to Daisy and Samburu. . . .

I want one of my first posts of 2010 on Growing Up Ina to be a
tribute to two of my long time friends and animal co-workers at
the Phoenix Zoo.

I love the time I spend educating the public about the animals on
the African Savanna. It is my favorite place at the zoo. It is
wonderful to be able to observe so many different species of
animals living together in perfect harmony, each faithfully doing
their part to preserve and enrich this beautiful habitat. So, it is
with great sadness that I said goodbye to two of the savanna's
long time residents.

Daisy, the Eland, affectionately known as Daisy-Do by her keepers
and the rest of us who worked alongside of her, passed away on
Halloween. Daisy was dearly loved by all of us at the zoo who
interacted with her in our various capacities of caring for, playing
with, and talking about; the vets, vet techs, keepers, managers,
experience staff, rangers, and volunteers.

Daisy had a sweet personality. She followed her keepers around
like a puppy. She was very inquisitive and always wanted to
know what was going on. Her personal keeper referred to this
inquisitive nature as bordering on being downright nosey. Her
favorite thing to do was to smash the pumpkins that are trad-
itionally put out on the savanna each Halloween to introduce
Boo At The Zoo. She would run as fast as she could from one
pumpkin to the next smashing them with her head. She had it
down pat and seemed to be saying, "Ha, I am going to smash
all of them before the rest of you have a chance."

The curtain for the show rose a little late this year. The pumpkins
were out for the opening number with the giraffe stomping, herd
chomping, and elands smashing their pumpkins in joyful abandon
while the hoof stock trail was saying goodbye to Daisy for the
last time.

The hoof stock keepers said, "Daisy has left us to smash pumpkins
on the great savanna in the sky. We honor her and those who
came before by continuing on with the show. They say, "The show
must go on and Daisy-Do would have enjoyed the show!"

The zoo's male reticulated giraffe, Samburu, better known as Sam
to fit his "good ole boy" image, was found dead in his stall in the
early morning of January 4th. It was said that it looked as if he
went peacefully to join Daisy on that great savanna in the sky.

Sam was 19. He was just a calf when I began volunteering and
was always one of my very favorite animal co-workers. He and I
watched together as the Phoenix Zoo grew into the world class
zoo it is today. I watched him mature into the magnificent bull
giraffe that he became. I remember how joyful and proud he
seemed when the savanna was enlarged and became the focal
point of the Africa Trail.

Sam had a great personality. He was very mischievous and
curious following his keepers around while pressing his nose
into their backs or bending his long neck down to rest his head
on their shoulder, adding a playful nip now and again. He
loved to eat. He was so interested in the new feeders when
they were put on the savanna. He would stand quietly and
watch them being lowered and raised. He didn't like to bend his
neck to eat but waited until the feeder was at it's highest so he
could stretch to his full 16+ feet to eat. He loved the new Giraffe
Encounter. He was always there even before the volunteers
rang the bell to let him and the four females giraffe know that
their adoring fans were waiting. With his 18" prehensile tongue,
velvet muzzle, and twitching ears, he always made sure that
they got the most from their $3.00. He was a true ham and
seemed to enjoy every bit of the adoration given him by those
who gave him treats. At the end of the hour, he was always
the last to leave.

Sam had been having some health issues for a few months but
seemed happy and didn't let it diminish his joy and love of life.
At age 19, he outlived most bull giraffe in captivity by a couple
of years. He sired eight calves. One of his daughters is a part
of the herd on the savanna. Others live in zoos throughout the
United States and as far away as Russia.

The hoof stock keepers said of him, "We will miss Sam, but we
honor him by ensuring that his spirit and genes will live on to
inspire and educate guests around the world.

Today, I pay my personal tribute to Sam and Daisy-Do and
thank them for letting me share in their remarkable lives.

Goodbye, old friends, I will miss you!