Tag Archives: sister

My Folks #20 – 29th St #4 – Business Promotions

The 1950 Statewide article (see last post, My Folks #20) was not the only promotion my folks dreamt up to promote their budding rental business. 

My sisters and I well remember throwing saltwater taffy from one of our trailers promoting Arians Tillers while dad slowly drove one of our Ford tractors along the streets of Boise. It was a warm day and I remember all the kids scurrying for candy as eagerly as I had scurried a year before when watching the 4th of July Parade. Or was it a parade promoting the Western Idaho Fair?

Our displays at the Western Idaho State Fairs would have been in the early 1950s. For several years mom and dad drove a sturdy stake in the ground so the largest of our tillers would forever run in a circle digging the earth into perfect bedding soil.

A box of glass endlessly kept water from a circling Rain Bird sprinkler from spraying the crowd. Trailers and tractors and implements showed the variety of useful machines that my folks made available to rent or buy. Tables full of sprinkler heads and stands kept one or both of my parents busy demonstrating just how versatile Rain Birds are with their adjustable spray patterns. I have no idea how many sprinklers left that fair on their way to new homes. 

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Meanwhile my older sister Vicky was trusted with some change to take my younger sister and I discovering the Fair. That ground, at the corner of Fairview and Orchard, is now a hole in the ground carrying the 184 freeway Connector into Boise. Commercial Tire and KTVB studios now occupy the Fairview Avenue side of the site. PBS Channel 4 now operates out of the Orchard Avenue corner of the site. 

To this day, having a Pronto Pup with lots of mustard remains an absolute necessity for my Fair visits. Some of the rides Vicky talked us into? I have long since been passing them by.

My Folks #15: 30th Street #3: Saved by Sis

A year had passed since my mother’s ordeal delivering her oversized baby boy. The black and blue lumps on my head had long since formed into the perfectly formed skull I’ve been blessed with ever since. (That’s my story and I’m sticking with it!)

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We were still living in the tiny house on 30th Street. Dad was actively renting the trailer he had purchased to build the tiny house and he was more than happy to stop and chat with everyone who asked about it. In fact, with no credit card records in 1946, he had to chat and get enough evidence so the folks renting the trailer would bring it back.

I don’t remember it but my older sister Vicky does and my mom sure did. Apparently Dad was responsible for watching Vicky and I when he got busy conversing with a neighbor. Or renter. It must have been a very important chat. 

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There was an irrigation ditch running through the property, small enough for any adult to step over and any three year old to jump across. And, apparently, just the right size for a one year old to fall into without having the room to roll over and get his face out of the water. 

My sister noticed my laying in the ditch and struggling. Dad ignored Vicky’s frantic cries. So she reached down and pulled me out. 

Thanks, Sis …

There is no record of the reaction when my mother asked about her dripping wet muddy boy but the marriage lasted another thirty-one years.

My Folks #15: 30th Street #3: Saved by Sis

A year had passed since my mother’s ordeal delivering her oversized baby boy. The black and blue lumps on my head had long since formed into the perfectly formed skull I’ve been blessed with ever since. (That’s my story and I’m sticking with it!)

Screenshot

We were still living in the tiny house on 30th Street. Dad was actively renting the trailer he had purchased to build the tiny house and he was more than happy to stop and chat with everyone who asked about it. In fact, with no credit card records in 1946, he had to chat and get enough evidence so the folks renting the trailer would bring it back.

I don’t remember it but my older sister Vicky does and my mom sure did. Apparently Dad was responsible for watching Vicky and I when he got busy conversing with a neighbor. Or renter. It must have been a very important chat. 

Screenshot

There was an irrigation ditch running through the property, small enough for any adult to step over and any three year old to jump across. And, apparently, just the right size for a one year old to fall into without having the room to roll over and get his face out of the water. 

My sister noticed my laying in the ditch and struggling. Dad ignored Vicky’s frantic cries. So she reached down and pulled me out. 

Thanks, Sis …

There is no record of the reaction when my mother asked about her dripping wet muddy boy but the marriage lasted another thirty-one years.