Son of a Gun

My Dad loves toys. Four-wheelers, boats, cars, motorcycles, motorhomes, and at one time--snowmobiles.

We had never been snowmobiling before. But we were determined we could figure it out. Being the OCD person he is, Dad polished up the snowmobiles with "Son of a Gun" to make them nice and pretty. We headed up the mountains and were anxious to ride them.

When we got there, we quickly learned we didn't know the first thing about them--let alone how to get them off the trailer. We pretended like we were fixing the snowmobiles, and instead were secretly watching the other snowmobilers to see how they did it. Once we were confident we had it down, we made Dad do it. Then came the second tricky part--getting up a over a snow mound.

Once again we spied on the "professionals." It looked easy enough--just drive up and over. Once again we sent Dad to do the trick. He gunned it, and the snowmobile took off! But Dad did not. The leather seats were so slick from being polished with the "Son of a Gun" that he slid right off. As the family stood back watching him, we didn't know what to do. We stayed straight-faced until we saw Dad's reaction. We thought for sure he'd start up cursing. But instead he began laughing.

Phew!

We had a good laugh about it.

That same day Tenille took the snowmobile out with Spencer and they got stuck. She couldn't get out on her own, so she told Spence to stay with the snowmobile as she trekked back the 1-mile walk. Dad was getting furious that they had been gone so long. Mom was worrying (like always) that something was wrong. When we saw Tenille walking toward us, we found out what happened and were relieved. (They had been gone about an hour--which was NOT like Tenille...aka our little "straight arrow.")

Anyway, my Dad trudged the mile walk back with her to find Spencer in an even deeper hole. Apparently he had tried to get the snowmobile out on its own and ended up sinking it in a few more feet. We all tried to dig it out, but to no avail.

The cursing began.

I'm sure Tenille said a prayer or something, because just then some nice "professionals" came by and showed us just how easy it was to get yourself out of a hole. We felt pretty sheepish for learning how easy it really was.

I was just happy we got it out, and that Dad was happy again.

Clarence

We took a trip up to Island Park one time (a small town just outside Yellowstone). They had the cutest little cabins there--and we felt so cool staying there. Sometimes I liked to pretend I was Laura Engels from The Little House on the Prairie (I daydreamed SO much).

Anyway, they have a little shop in town that we went to check out. Lance thought the girl that worked there was kind of cute. When she asked him what his name was, he told her. But she must have misunderstood because she kept calling him, "Clarence." He was so ticked off about it. We teased him about it for a while, and he would get so angry. Clarence never had a funny sense of humor about that.

One of MANY boating stories...

We used to go camping and boating a lot. We couldn't really afford to do anything else. While everyone else was flying to exotic places, we had our own fun in Bear Lake, Lake Powell, and Utah Lake. We used to be Gold Members at a resort in Bear Lake called Blue Water Beach Resort. It was wonderful going there for a few reasons:

• the church we attended on Sundays was always jam packed. With so many tourists visiting for the summer, we all filled the hallways and extra classrooms. It took their poor deacons about an hour to pass the sacrament (if not longer)
• We always bought Raspberry shakes at LaBeau's. They had the most mouth-watering shakes alive! (They were always really crowded, so you'd have to take a number. When the guy yelled out a number, my dad happened to be standing right by him and got that screamed into his hear. He gave us a funny look and yelled back jokingly, "SCOTT!" -- an inside joke/quote from the movie, Austin Powers, that had just recently come out.)
• The city was full of bike paths that Tenille and I used to ride bikes/roller blades on. 
• It was just a beautiful area. A lot of times my parents would go "cabin hunting." Ya, they still do to this day, but have yet to purchase anything. haha

Anyway, two particular events stand out to me about Bear Lake. 

1. Melissa was in her teenage years and boy crazy, like most other girls that age. She flirted with boys, and got invited up to a party. Tenille and I tagged along (probably to keep her in line--my mom's spy girls). The boy's house was on top of a big mountain, with a highway that ran below it. The boys decided it would be funny to launch water balloons and hit cars. So we did. I can't remember exactly what happened (whether or not we got caught), but it sure was a lot of fun.

2. My parents liked to go to the Pickleville Playhouse dinner theater. It was a little more pricey, so the kids always stayed behind. One night it stormed (like it always did on a Banks Family camping trip...) and our boat that was anchored at the beach started blowing away. Lance ran to the theater to get Mom and Dad, and luckily we were able to save our boat. Other people weren't so lucky. I remember seeing other people's boats the following morning washed up on the beach. They spent hours digging it out only to find their propeller had been destroyed. 

We went to Bear Lake just about every summer (a couple times a summer). And every time we went my parents always had short tempers. I used to wonder why they would get so grumpy sometimes until I grew up, had my own family, and had to pack our whole family for a camping trip, too. Not. Easy.

As the years went on, more and more tenters transferred over to motorhomes. We used to complain that they were just lazy and that wasn't considered "real camping." A few years after that, we became those "lazy" people, too. ;)

Kneel Down & Close Your Eyes!

Every time we wanted a treat, my mom would make us kneel down at the couch and close our eyes so we couldn't see where she was hiding the "loot." I've since started doing the same thing to Taylor. :)

Sports

Mom put me in tap dance when I was in Kindergarten. A lady in our ward had a dance studio in her basement, so I went there. I hated it. I was so shy and never remembered any of the steps that we had practiced. When we'd actually perform at the 49th Street Galleria, I was too shy and would just play with my hands and "shuffle rock step." I remember thinking at the end of our dance routine, "When did we learn this?! Was I there?"

Needless to say dance didn't work for me.

A few years later one of my best friends, Melanie, was playing on a Jr. Jazz basketball team that her dad was coaching. They asked if I wanted to join, and I did. Apparently I was a natural at it. I had never played the sport and was doing awesome. I loved it. I loved excelling at something that came naturally to me. I beat all the boys in Lightning at recess, and after school we played Chris Romriell and Chad Oscarson and beat them, too. (Poor kids were teased the next day at school that two girls beat them).

I ended up playing softball with Mel's team, too--which I also happened to excel at. I actually excelled at most sports. I was always the first girl picked for soccer, dodgeball, kick ball, volleyball, etc. I went from a girly-girl to a tom-boy pretty fast.

I didn't stick with softball more than two years, though. I was great at it--hitting a homerun almost every time I batted (one time I hit the siding off of a house). In two years I hadn't even struck out. So when I actually struck out my first time, I flipped. (Yes, I was an arrogant, cocky kid). I chucked my bat and hit one of my fellow teammates (can we say, anger management issues!??!). I got ejected from the umpire. I was so embarrassed I didn't want to return. My coach called and visited and begged me to come back. I was stubborn and didn't. I regret it. I really could have gone far with it.

Luckily I stuck with basketball. I made an AAU team and we took second place in the state. When I was a freshman in middle school I made the high school team. Tenille used to be on the team, too, and would teach me the drills she learned at practice. I owe a lot to her for getting me so far. We would condition during the summer to help me prepare. (Tenille was on the team her fresh and soph years. Melissa played volleyball, Lance played Lacrosse. Spence DID play football, but wouldn't play at the high school level. Amazing how different we all were, huh? Especially considering my parents aren't exactly sportsy themselves...)

My junior year we took state, and my JV team was 23-0.

My senior year we had a target on our backs. We were the returning state champs, and I guess we just couldn't handle the pressure. We got out in quarterfinals and I was devastated. I took it really hard--banishing the sport and not even considering the scholarship offers I was receiving from small colleges across the country.

In college I missed it too much, and began playing again on city leagues, intramurals, and church ball. But it just wasn't the same.

I still miss it.

A Near Death Experience

Okay, so I don't know if I would have died or not, but at the time my condition seemed pretty serious.

When I was young I got really sick. So sick to the point where I couldn't really eat, I kept losing weight, I could no longer walk, and the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. After visiting multiple doctors, it seemed hopeless. I remember coming back one night with my mom. She closed the garage door, but we were still in the car. She didn't say anything. She just started crying. That's when I knew something was seriously wrong with me. I really thought I was going to die.

Spencer and Tenille pulled me around the house in our little red Radio Flyer wagon since I couldn't walk. Dad got really mad that the wagon was in the house, then felt bad and backed off.

We finally called our home teacher, Bishop Bateman, over to help Dad give me a blessing. And immediately after the blessing was done, I stood up. It was indeed a miracle. I knew from an early age that the gospel was true. I witnessed the beautiful power of the priesthood. I've always had a strong testimony of the power of the priesthood since.

I remember scarfing down plain white rice afterwards (which wasn't like me. I usually put ketchup on my rice). And I said to my mom, "This is the best food I've ever eaten, Mom!" She replied that I was just hungry.

For the longest time after that we thought I might be allergic to chocolate (don't ask me the correlation with it). So I avoided it at all costs. That didn't last long, though. My sister, Tenille, offered me a sip of her drink from Wendy's. Turns out it was a frosty. And I lived!

Grandpa Banks

My dad's mom, Grandma Banks, passed away when I was pretty young. I didn't know her very well, but I do remember she always gave us purple Bubblicious Bubble Gum before we left her house each time. (And one time she forgot to and I totally thought she didn't love me anymore. lol). Anyway, with Grandma gone, that left poor Grandpa Banks alone. He worshiped the ground she walked on, and was devastated when she passed. She was really sick and had a lot of things wrong with her (Lupus, and a few other things). I came to find out later in life that she actually had prayed to die because she was in so much pain.

Anyway, with Grandma gone, Aunt Sis (I want to say she was my Grandma's sister) kidnapped my grandpa and sold all his possessions (including his home). She kept the money from it all and locked him in her basement and fed him tons of Prozac pills. (That's the story in a nutshell). After battling her out, we finally rescued Grandpa and brought him home with us. Poor Grandpa was never the same after that, though. His Alzheimers was awful. It was really sad to see.

Grandpa lived with us for a few years. And in that time we experienced some funny things with him:

• He loved batteries, and he always had some on hand. (His favorite store was Radio Shack)
• He was so giving. He carried around a small, black, leather coin pouch and was always giving money away (it made me jealous when he'd give my friends more money than me).
• One time he bought a pair of shoes and threw them in the garbage can when he got home. When we asked him why, he said they were too small for him. (Turns out he hadn't taken out the tissue paper they stuff in the soles of the shoes.)
• One day I saw Mom replacing all our toothbrushes. When I asked her why, I learned that Grandpa had been using all of ours. haha
• This man LOVED Sprite! I think we all gained a few pounds while he lived with us.
• Grandpa was so generous. He was always doing things for other people. He even bought us a go-kart! Man were we spoiled with him there!

Poor Grandpa's health got so bad that we no longer could care for him as he needed. We sent him to Nephi to live with his brother and sister-in-law (Uncle Gale and Aunt Julia). While living with them, we learned that he went across the street to the mortuary and stood in a family line shaking people's hands at a stranger's funeral. When asked who he was, he said he lived across the street but everybody started shaking his hand so he stayed. 

His health progressively got worse, and we had to put him in a nursing home. It was so sad to see him there. We always cried every time we visited him because he no longer remembered us. I remember Dad giving him a hug and kiss and Grandpa said to him, "Who the hell are you!?" 

I remember going to the nursing home one time and saw him and a few other elderlies standing by a window looking out. When we got closer, we looked out the window, too--expecting to see something amazing. There was nothing. Just a lonely, withered tree. 

Not long later, he passed away. His funeral was up in Idaho. He was buried next to Grandma. I wrote a poem and read it there, and I cried. And because Grandpa served in the military (WWII), they did a gun salute to him. The flag and remnants of those bullets fired are now proudly displayed in a nice box in my Dad's office at home. 

10-Year Old Assistant Ward Clerk

Dad used to serve in the Bishopric as the Ward clerk--which meant he had to sit on the stand while we sat in the church pews. He missed sitting with us, and invited Spence and me to sit with him. Spence was pretty shy, so I ended up being the one to sit with him most of the time. I remember counting how many people were in the congregation and hallways, writing down the names of the deacons and priests, recording the talks that were given, etc. I LOVED it! And when we were done with our stats, Dad and I played games on his notebook paper (mostly the game with a bunch of dots, and you have to connect them to make a square and write your initial inside of it.) lol

I did this for a long time, that is until my sister, Tenille, told me I was getting a little "too old" to be doing that. I abruptly stopped, and I think my Dad was hurt a little. I never told him why, but I regretted it. I look back now and wished I would have done it every Sunday until I moved away to college.

My Mama the "Sign Lady"

Every time someone in my family had a major accomplishment, you could be sure the whole neighborhood on Casper Road knew about it. 

My mom was always great about recognizing us and our successes. For that, I am so thankful. Even if it was my Dad coming home from being out of town on a business trip, you could guarantee a "Welcome Home, Dad!" sign would be proudly displayed on the garage door or hanging on the columns of our house. My mom was so great at that. She had a sign for every event in our lives--whether it was making a sports team, doing well on a test, getting baptized, receiving a mission call, getting engaged, celebrating our birthday, or just to say she loved us. And honestly, I did love it. I think we all did. In fact, my sisters and I do the same things for our families now. 

Isn't it funny the little things you inherit and pass on?

My mom wasn't just the queen of house signs, but of the queen of "napkin notes" in our lunchbags, too. It wasn't too often that we took "cold lunch" ("hot lunch" offered at the school was cheaper since we were poor and on "reduced lunch."), but when we had to for a field trip or something else, I always knew I'd find a napkin in my lunch with a love note from Mom. And she always signed it with this dorky-looking heart with a smiley face in it. It's her signature. But I love that dorky logo. And I love my Mama!

Tats in Real Life...

A few years ago Matt's parents gave us a really neat Christmas gift--a book with the personal history of Afton Lemmon Southam (Matt's grandmother). In it she wrote about 80 pages worth of events and stories from her life. I was engulfed in it, and felt inspired to do the same thing. I want my future posterity to know how it was when I was growing up, too. 

These stories are in no particular order--just as they come to me.