Recollections of Grandpa and Grandma Moulton by Sid Moulton

My earliest memories of Grandpa and Grandma centered , of course, around their house on Center Street, in the middle of Heber. It was a modest white frame house surrounded by lawn; and a break of tall straight poplar trees on the right side just at the back of the house. The universal coal shed was on the right. Just behind the trees further back was a long row of empty chicken coops separated from the house by an open space which had been the garden. There was another small shed on the left behind the chicken coops which served as a tool shed.
Since Grandpa died when I was ten, I don’t remember when there was any chickens in the coop. But, they stood as though it had only been yesterday. There was even a barrel of wheat in the feed room which separated the coops into halves. We would take a handful of wheat and by chewing, create gluten and then chew it as gum.. I remember that there was a pile of old boards in front of the right coop. We were attacked and stung one day, as we played in the back, by a nest of yellow jackets that came out of the wood as we jumped around on it. We all ran to Grandma’s to be nursed for the stings.
The center of my fond memories was the kitchen. I remember coming into the kitchen with Dad, and Grandpa, sitting there, took me on his knee and talked to me. I knew, as I looked into his face, that he loved me. It was the face of a man who had worked hard all his life ,wrinkled and weathered,. But above all, it was the face of a very kind man who smiled a lot.
Early morning in the kitchen was an experience all it’s own. The sun streamed in it’s east facing window and filled the room with light. Grandpa set at the table reading the newspaper, while Grandma fixed us breakfast. The radio was on and tuned to a show in which Leonard Friendly talked, read poetry and played music of a light and happy nature to bring in the new day. There was a bird cage near the big window on the north side of the kitchen and in it, a small yellow canary named “Dickey “sang his heart out to welcome the morning.
Grandma stood before her great wood and coal burning kitchen range fixing breakfast. It was a great stove with a large flat cooking surface. A spacious oven in which many a Thanksgiving turkey had been baked , not to mention cookies, cakes, rolls and bread. It also kept that kitchen and half the house warm. There was a galvanized water tank standing next to it as tall as a man! It became heated by the water jacket in that stove. The warming ovens stood as high as your head and it was trimmed in chrome. The food she produced there on was the delight of my childhood. This morning, she was frying bacon and scrambled eggs and a strange looking dish for Grandpa. I asked for some of Grandpa’s stuff and she replied, almost with disgust, “ Sid, you don’t want any of this.” She didn’t explain why but I later I learned it was calf brains.

During the time I was growing up, Grandpa was an operator at the Heber Light and Power plant some five miles north of the city on route 40. It was a tall building built from limestone quarried from the great deposits left by the geo thermal springs in Midway. The walls were built on a great concrete slab which served as base to the two hydro turbans and their generators. The water came from two removable dams across the Provo River that was about 3 or 4 miles further north and flowed into a great wooden flume to the power house. I remember visiting there with my dad. while he was working. The water gushed from the turbines to a cavity beneath the plant and found it’s way in a canal back to the river. There was a foot bridge across the torrent as it flowed out and Grandpa loved to sit on that bridge fishing for the white fish and brown trout “as long as your arm“, which seemed to thrive in that fast water beneath the plant. If you crouched on that bridge peering into the depths of that cold water once in a while you could catch a glimpse of those fish.
Long after Grandpa died, we lived in the house directly across the road and Dad worked in that same plant. But, we preferred to catch fish “as long as your arm” literally in the river. There were times when we resorted to means other than rod and reel.
My father, Glen, who was also known as “Lefty”, had a marked distaste for cats. He would tolerate them outside for mouse control purposes, but, never inside. I learned that he inherited that distaste from Grandpa. We already know that he was a bird lover because of “Dickey” the canary. I was told that he would occasionally put up with having a cat around the house for the sake of his daughters. But, about the time little piles of feathers began to appear on the lawn, the cat would mysteriously disappear. It was a long ride to the power plant!
These memories, and many more. formed in loving association with aunts, uncles, and cousins, from both sides of the family, bound me to the true principles of happiness. They formed the basis of who I am, making me a branch of this great tree, drawing strength from the same roots deeply planted in God’s garden. I will be forever indebted to this family and am grateful for it. Sid Moulton