Monday, November 26, 2012

I like working at Kohls.  My feet are adjusting and I bought a memory foam mat to stand on (folded in half to make it twice as thick) and I have special insoles.  So I have made me feet as comfortable as possible and I can enjoy the company of lots of new people.  I enjoy having a little extra money to buy baby clothes (teens and pre-teens are too hard to buy for) and I've got three new babies coming this next year.  There are other things I need to save my money for, so I had better be careful not to spend it all on baby clothes. 

Some of the new people I enjoy are Beverly, Gina, Della, Rosanna, Elvira (really a sweetie), Dominique, Cheryl, Kelly, and lots of others whose names I don't remember. 

Saturday, November 24, 2012

My work schedule
11/26 Monday  - off
11/27 Tues.   -    off
11/28 Wed.  -    10 am to 3 pm
11/29 Thurs. -   off
11/30  Fri     -  9am to 5pm
12/1 Sat.    - 8am to 1pm

12/2 Sun  -  off
12/3 Mon - 10am to 3pm
12/4 Tues -  off
12/5 Wed -  off
12/6 Thurs - off
12/7 Fri   - off
12/8 Sat  - 7am to 3:30 pm

Monday, November 12, 2012

My work schedule

Dear Family and anyone who cares,

Since my work schedule at Kohls varies so much from week to week, I thought I'd post it here so people will have some idea of when I am available.


I started working at Kohls about a month ago (mid-October).  My schedule for Tues. 11/13 is noon -4:30,
Wednesday 11/14 is 8a - 1230p.  I don't have to work the rest of this week.

The next day I work is 11/21, Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving from 11a - 5p.  The store is closed on Thanksgiving until 1130p and I have to work from then until 730a on Friday morning. I go in again on Saturday, 11/24 and work 9a - 5p.

The schedule for the week after Thanksgiving is not out yet. Luckily, I have been able to trade off hours so that I haven't had to work as many hours as they have me scheduled.

Wednesday night (11/14) we have a YW service project and this Thursday night I am supposed to go teach with the Sisters.  There is a baptism on Saturday, 11/17.

Love you all.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

My living room full of junk from the middle bedroom
Add caption




I painted my kitchen that has been in a sorry state for about a year. I even put new carpeting on the floor (Joel think's that's crazy, but it only cost me $50 for the new carpeting and Dad and I are not old enough yet that we spill a whole lot).

Then I started on the middle bedroom. I emptied the contents of the bedroom into my ivingroom and the food room (used to be "play room" and before that "the back bedroom").
At the airport - ready to leave Phoenix for NYC

At Rockefeller Center at night



Times Square at night

Grand Central Station's Grand Hall (Looks like Prince Charming's Castle)










Eating a soft pretzel at Grand Central Station
I've had a busy summer.  In June I went to NYC with Arinda.  It was lots of fun and Arinda was a darling!  We never heard one word of complaint about anything.  However she did have a hard time with the tenement museum, especially when they talked about the babies dying and the poisoned milk.

At the end of June I was home one whole day and then Greg's girls came for our Family Reunion.  I'm really glad they came.  We went up to Flagstaff and stayed in Gina and Scott's house while they were at the lake in their houseboat. We came back home on the 7th of July and the girls flew back home on the 13th.  Anna came back out on the 12th to teach Master Classes for a Summer Intensive at Gina's dance studio in Flagstaff.  David and I went up to spend time with her and Gina.   It was hotter in Flagstaff than I expected (but still cooler than Mesa) and Anna was either very busy or wiped out from working.  David and I mostly just sat around and did nothing.
Anna and Arinda at Grand Central Station's Grand Hall


This spot was interesting.  If you whispered into the wall at one corner. . . .

You could hear it as clear as a bell in the opposite corner.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Monday, October 3, 2011

Familly History Dad

This morning I was listening to a talk by Dallin Oaks about Tolerance. The word “tolerance” immediately made me think of my father. And then I wondered how many other people would associate that quality with my dad.

My father was Ernest Floyd Evans and was born in Atlanta, Georgia in 1905. There are a lot of things I don’t know about him. I know that he was raised without a mother after he was five years old, that his father was reputed to be a hard and abusive man, and that he loved his Granny Yarborough. I don’t know who his heroes and good examples were, but I do know that he was good and kind and very intelligent.

My father was raised in Georgia in a somewhat impoverished family. From what I have read, it seems that most of the people in the south didn’t view Negroes as humans equal to themselves. The southern poor, who were often mistreated because of their insignificant economic status, would sometimes relish the opportunity to mistreat others of lesser status. It was what they taught their children and the way most of them lived their lives. My father did not share that view. From everything I have observed and heard about my father, he was always kind and accepting of others. Tolerant, yes. But kind too.

Being the youngest of six children and born when my father was forty-three years old, I probably had different parents than my siblings, just in view of the fact that they were all born to much younger parents. Most of the remembrances of my family members occurred before I was born. They remembered living in California, knew cousins I didn’t know, lived on streets I’d never seen and talked about pets and friends who were gone from their lives before I even came to earth. But I’m pretty sure that we all shared a dad who was patient, kind, gentle, soft-spoken and loving.

My father seemed to be a contradiction of himself. He was a southern boy from an impoverished background, raised without a mother by an abusive father , and was taken out of school after the 8th grade. Yet he had no sign of a southern accent, spoke with perfect grammar, had an extensive vocabulary, was well read, and exemplified goodness and morality. Daddy treasured books and learning, enjoyed all kinds of music and poetry and taught himself to be an artist. He painted (I have a painting he did of a Hawaiian girl in the moonlight), carved (an ebony figure of my mother, though I have no idea what happened to it), and played a horn while he was in the Marines. Eventually, he started his own business called Evans Signs.

My dad didn’t yell unless you were far enough away that it was required to make himself heard. I was telling someone the other day about a teen who had let their dad’s brand new, hard-earned pickup truck roll over a cliff – due to his youthful lack of experience and forward thinking. The father didn’t say anything at all when his son came in appalled and mortified that he had done the unthinkable and began pouring out apologies. After several minutes, without removing the newspaper from in front of his face, the father said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to take the old car.” My friend commented that the father had learned to have amazing control over his anger. Then I realized that he didn’t have any anger that needed control. The father may have been disappointed and somewhat shocked, and he was probably tired and frustrated. However he put himself in his son’s place, realizing he was already suffering overwhelming remorse. He also knew that there was nothing he could do or say that would undo the terrible event. So, he acted with compassion for his son. That man could easily have been my father. That’s what Daddy would have done.

There were many years of my childhood that Daddy worked at home. He created advertising designs and plans. These were then displayed in various ways. Sometimes he fashioned them into physical structures that were on giant billboards along the highways, or spread across entire store fronts, or hung in front of establishments to publicize and promote their businesses. He also painted advertising on trucks, vans, etc., and lettered names and titles on the glass entry doors of banks, legal offices, medical offices and such. Sometimes he did the names and titles in “gold leaf” if the customer wanted to be recognized as high-class and sophisticated. This required a very special technique and was delicate work, using very thin sheets of real gold. I remember watching Daddy do this and he explained to me that you couldn’t touch the gold leaf sheets with your hand because it was so thin the natural body heat would melt it onto your fingers. It came pressed between sheets of paper and when the surface was prepared, Daddy would pick it up and apply it using static electricity in a wide, flat brush. It required meticulous effort and skill because any mistakes were not only time-consuming but very expensive to re-do.
Daddy would first make a sketch of the desired project. Then he would bring it up to size. That could be anything from one or two feet wide to sixty feet wide. Next he would make a pattern out of paper and put holes through it with a tracing wheel and affix it to the surface to be painted. He then took a pounce bag (a cloth bag filled with a fine charcoal dust) and struck it against the perforations to transfer the pattern. (Oh, I posted this before it was finished. I'll have to add to it.)

Most of my life I called my father Daddy. After I got married, I sometimes called him Papa. I know that Daddy’s favorite sport to play was soccer. He also enjoyed going to baseball games and he and Mama would watch the Friday Night Fights (boxing) on TV. I knew who Gene Fullmer was (a boxing champion from Utah) when I was quite young and was thrilled to meet him at a youth fireside once.

Mom and Daddy used to go to dances when they were young and they would occasionally put on old records and dance at home. This was “their song” and when I listen to it again I can see Momma and Daddy dancing around the living room and I get all misty eyed. I realize that despite our family’s flaws and faults, I come from a heritage where husbands and wives have loved each other. (If you google it and you can hear how it goes.)

Title: Al Jolson - The Anniversary Song


Oh, how we danced on the night we were wed
We vowed our true love, though a word wasn't said
The world was in bloom, there were stars in the skies
Except for the few that were there in your eyes

Dear, as I held you close in my arms
Angels were singing a hymn to your charms
Two hearts gently beating, murmuring low
"Darling, I love you so"

The night seemed to fade into blossoming dawn
The sun shone anew but the dance lingered on
Could we but recall that sweet moment sublime
We'd find that our love is unaltered by time

------ instrumental break ------

Darling, I love you so

The night seemed to fade into blossoming dawn
The sun shone anew but the dance lingered on
Could we but recall that sweet moment sublime
We'd find that our love is unaltered by time

I don’t remember my dad ever getting angry and losing his temper. I remember that he was angry with me once (which I entirely deserved) but he never lost his temper. I had disobeyed my parents and taken the car out of American Fork. I got a flat tire that I did not know how to change. It was about 11:00 p.m., winter and about fifteen degrees below zero.I called and asked Daddy if he would get up, out of bed, and come change the tire. Then I asked him not to tell Mom because I knew that she would be sure that I was punished to the nth degree. He never yelled. He didn’t say anything at all. However I knew that he was angry and very, VERY, disappointed that I would be so disobedient, selfish, and inconsiderate. Feeling my dad’s disapproval and disappointment was terrible. I knew that I didn’t want to experience that feeling again.

My mom and dad did not go to movies. I’m not sure why. When Dr. Zhivago came out, someone (I think it was my brother Bud) talked them into going to see it. They loved it and went out and bought the sound track. Daddy loved the music and played it again and again. I was just 16 at the time and thought the story was too sad and depressing – about war and all. But I did like the music. As far as I can remember, mom and dad never went to see another movie.