Little League Sports

When I was in third grade I became friends with a girl who lived near me. Her name was Melanie Jardine. Her dad, Doug, coached little league basketball and softball. She asked me if I wanted to play, and I figured, “heck, I’ll give it a shot.” This is when we found out I was a natural at sports. The game came so easy to me, and I was the best one on the team. I usually had upwards of 30+ points per game. And oh how I LOVED being in the spotlight. I loved being athletic. I was glad to find out I had some type of talent (as dancing wasn’t my thing—Mom had me take tap from a lady in our ward when I was in kindergarten, and I was so shy and couldn’t remember any of the steps. It was awful, and I always felt so embarrassed. Mom also enrolled me in miniature cheerleading. I wasn’t the best at it, and wasn’t sad to quit after two years. I just didn’t fit in with all those girly-girls). So in the winter/spring, I kept busy playing Jr. Jazz basketball, and in the summers I played softball. I was a natural at softball, too. I always hit home runs, I was the fastest runner, and I even became the pitcher. I’ll admit, the pride got to me. I started becoming really competitive, and it got the best of me. One game I struck out, and it was the first time in two years that had ever happened to me. I was shocked, and ticked. I chucked the bat (and it hit one of my teammates), and yelled at the ump. He ejected me. It was then that I decided I wanted nothing more to do with softball. I quit. And I’ve always regretted it. I’m just glad I stuck with basketball.

Years later we found out that this coach of mine (who was also on the high council in our stake) had an affair. I was devastated to hear the news. I was shocked and couldn't believe it. He and his wife tried to work things out, but it couldn't be done. They divorced.

As I got older I played on a superleague team. My coach for this team was Rick Halliday. He was the dad of one of my friends on the team, Meggan. He was a great coach, but after we got on the high school team he didn't seem like himself anymore. He always looked sick. While on my senior trip with my friends he ended up committing suicide. Apparently he had been really sick for about three years--constantly nauseated and no doctors could figure out what was medically wrong with him. He was a respected judge in downtown Salt Lake, so it took a lot of us by surprise. I had a really hard time with this. I bawled my eyes out. 

Power of the Priesthood

I don’t remember how old I was when I got really sick. So sick that they thought I was going to die. Mom took me to a whole bunch of different doctors, and nobody could figure out what was wrong with me. I remember pulling into the garage with mom one night. She turned off the van, and just started crying. I looked at her and thought, “Gee, this must really be bad. Am I really going to die?” I got so sick that I could no longer walk. Spence and Tenille would pull me around the house in our little red Radio Flyer wagon. When Dad saw the wagon in the house he get pretty mad, though. So I either had to crawl or be carried. One night our home teacher and bishop (Bishop Bateman) came over and he and Dad gave me a blessing. Immediately after the blessing I stood up, and I could walk! And for the first time in a really long time, I was hungry. And I gulfed down plain white rice (normally I needed ketchup on it, but it tasted so good the way it was). It really was a miracle. To this day we still don’t know what I had. They thought it could have been scarlet fever, but nothing’s for sure.

Dark Kids

Being Hispanic kids, we sure got dark. Sometimes we resented it, though. All of the other kids at school were white, and would sometimes tease us for being tan. Sometimes I’d cry to my mom wishing I were like the other kids. And she would tell me that all those kids would be jealous of me some day—that boys like tan girls. This was a nice consolation. My sisters would wear white tights to school to try to blend in, but everyone knew they were dark. I’ve never regretted my skin color since. My dad would always say we should be thankful for getting such pretty skin from my mom. He used to say she traveled a long way on a banana boat from Ecuador for us. And for the longest time I always though my mom and her family immigrated to the States literally floating on a big, yellow banana.

Our family was pretty poor in the beginning, but both Mom and Dad worked very hard for us, and we were blessed. Dad was even able to afford a nice boat. We used to go to Utah Lake, Deer Creek, Bear Lake, and Lake Powell. One time we split a houseboat with another family in our wad (the Dean’s) at Lake Powell. It was there that I first tasted honey dew melon and a cantaloupe. I told my mom that I really liked that fruit, and asked her why we didn’t have any at our house. She replied that it was “white-people food.” Mom would come to use this phrase MANY times later in my life. I also learned that grapefruit and cranberry sauce were white-people foods. Come to find out anything she didn't like was considered a white-person food. haha. When I got older and was in high school, I asked my mom why she used to always say that. Her response was, “When you have kids bugging you and asking you questions all the time, you’ll say anything to make them stop.” (I guess that also explains why when we were younger, if Mom grabbed her purse, we would ask, “Where you goin’, Mom?” and she’d reply, “To the moon, you wanna come with?” She still owes me a trip…)

We had a lot of fun at Lake Powell in that houseboat. We danced to oldies at midnight, and jumped in the water or slid down the slide. We lost a mattress and saw it floating on the other side of the lake. Dad almost died by getting sucked under the houseboat. And Brother Dean came close to having a marital affair with some stranger who’s jeep got stuck on a nearby road. Yes, our trips were ALWAYS adventurous…

Sandy--Our Home

When I was three-years-old, my family moved to Sandy (Thanksgiving day, 1988). This is the place we all grew up. My parents bought our home for $100,000 as it was a foreclosure. I remember thinking it was so huge (it is—it’s 4800 sq. feet). And our poor little family barely had any furnishings to put in it. We all slept on the floor in the “big room” (living room) the first night there. I used to think my family was so rich that we could afford that. And although we were actually very poor, my parents made sure we never knew that.

Our house in Sandy only had dirt for a yard. And I remember one hot summer day having to roll out the sod and cover that whole third acre we lived on. It was a tough job, but not too bad when you had seven people in your family, plus the help of good friends and neighbors. My parents instilled a hard work ethic in each of us at an early age.

I have a lot of good memories of this house. One time my parents went to ward temple night, and the rest of us stayed back. We were in charge of babysitting Spencer. He was still potty-training at the time, and we were no experienced teachers in that area. When Spence said he had to go potty, we pulled his pants down and sat him on the toilet all satisfied that we knew what we were doing. Little did anyone tell us that you have to hold down the boy’s wee wee, though. Next thing we know, the bathroom door is covered in pee.

Our summers were spent playing in the small, circular, 4-feet deep underground pool we had. We’d also go rollerblading and bike-riding around the block with our friends. I remember the first time I learned what it meant to go “around the block.” I used to hear my older siblings say they were going to do that, and I thought the “block” was literally a red-brick rock that was special sitting in the middle of the road. I wondered why it was so cool to circle around a piece of rock.

We had some really good neighbors next to us. I used to take my mom’s daycare kids (or my friends) with me next door (to the south) to the Billingsley’s and help them do yard work because after we finished, she’d always offer me a bowl of ice cream. (To this day I still love ice cream, and it was obviously instilled in me at an early age). To our north was the Shakerin’s. And down the street were the Bateman’s (who were also our home teachers. Jay Dee had Down Syndrome and was so funny, even  though I could hardly understand him at the time). The Bateman’s had kids that always matched up with us Banks kids. And across the street was the Carter’s. I couldn’t stand Valynn & Rodney. She was plump and he was thin, and they always reminded me of that poem “Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean, and so between the two of them, they licked their platters clean.” Valynn used a wheel chair when she wanted pity. She’d drive out to her mailbox in her car just to get her mail. And one time Tenille and I had to go help her clean her house. It was a pig-sty. Newspapers and dirt dishes covered her countertops and floors. Tenille and I spent 4-5 hours there cleaning, and all we got paid was a lousy $2 that we had to split. I was never too fond of her after that.

Our next-door neighbors, the Shakerin’s, had a boy named Sausan who was a few years younger than Spence. Mom used to babysit him. He was with us so much that he was like another brother to us. We used to get in fights with him—whether it was chucking cherries at him, or using the hose to douse him, or planting a sprinkler by the wall and luring him to come over. We loved to pick on him. One time we were running into our house and Sausan was chasing us. Spencer didn’t want him to come in, so he closed the garage door, and Sausan tried rolling underneath it. He got stuck, and we kept trying to get him out by pushing the garage button, but it just made the door push down tighter on him. Later on, when Spence played PeeWee football for Alta’s little league team, Sausan decided he wanted to, too. He came back in our high school’s rival colors, though—as a Jordan Beatdigger. We convinced him to make his mom change it to Alta. (Good thing we did, too, because he later played running back for Alta’s team and took them to State, and later on to play at the University of Utah). 

A Little About Me in the Early Years

I got my name from a perfume bottle. Back when my mom was pregnant, she saw the name Tatiana on a perfume in a department store and decided she would name me that (even though the doctors insisted I was going to be a boy). Mom knew I was going to be a girl because she said her dad (Nery Sanchez, who had died before my first sibling was even born) visited her and told her. Needless to say that doctors were pretty surprised when I came out. I always felt cheated that I had the “ugliest” name. (Just glad it wasn’t Marcella, like they had thought about). Nobody could ever pronounce it right, and I always thought they were picking on me. All throughout my grade school years I always wished I had a “normal” name like “Ashley” or “Megan.” But now I am VERY grateful I don’t have one of those boring, all-too-common names.

My family lived in a small, split-level house in West Valley (a suburb of Salt Lake). I don’t remember much about that place, except that I had Mickey Mouse wallpaper in my bedroom, a big trampoline in the backyard, a sand pit underneath our back porch, and a huge tree out front. I had some neighbor friends. Danielle lived down the street from me, and I remember walking to her house sometimes. Tenille was friends with her brother Donald, and she used to have him wrapped around her finger. Tenille once made him lick some pee off a toilet seat, and put him in the dryer. You would never guess she did that by the way she is now (mature, reserved, soft-spoken). I had another neighbor across the street from me whose name I don’t recall, but I remember being extremely jealous that she could blow a bubble with her bubble gum before I could.

My dad’s parents lived in Kearns, which wasn’t too far from us. We used to visit Grandma & Grandpa Banks (Doris & Bruce). My grandma was always very sick, though. She always wore a muumuu or nightgown, and sat in her recliner while Grandpa waited on her. (It wasn’t until after she died that I learned she had lupus, diabetes, and a slew of other problems. She used to pray to die because she was in so much pain.) We visited them on Sundays, and before we left she would give us a piece of Bubblicious Bubble Gum (the purple kind). One time she forgot to give us some, and I remember thinking that she didn’t love me. Behind their house was a big auto-body garage. My grandpa used to work in that thing all the time (and when they were younger he used to own a gas station. Dad said people would be angry with him when he wouldn’t give them free gas.). My sister, Tenille, and I would ride tricycles down the pavement in and out of his garage.

Speaking of tricycles, I have two scars: on my chin and my forehead. I don’t remember getting them, but was told I rode a tricycle down the stairs in my old yellow house in West Valley, and went right out the front door. Tenille had just come home from school and didn’t catch me!

Our little neighborhood used to be so nice. You didn’t have to worry about locking your doors, or walking anywhere by yourself because it was so safe. I remember one summer all five of us kids, and a few neighbor kids, walked about a mile to the Circle K Gas Station to buy some candy. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. The neighborhood isn’t so great now.  If you drive back that way it’s so dirty. It’s one of the worst places to live in Utah. People there no longer take care of their homes or yards. It’s just not what is used to be. Mom says it’s pretty sad.

Before my mom had me she worked (although I’m not exactly sure which job she did then. I do know she used to be a secretary for the Church Headquarters and for Salt Lake Community College). And because of her job, she had to take my siblings to a babysitter. She hated being away from her family. She knew she needed to be at home, and so she started her own home daycare business. She did home daycare for over 25 years (after retiring for good in June 2009). My dad worked, too. He worked for UPS while going to night school. When he graduated from the University of Utah with his degree in Business Management, he got a job working at the University of Utah Federal Credit Union.

Jazz Games

We used to LOVE the Jazz! They were a classic team when John Stockton, Karl Malone, and Jeff Hornacek (Aka "Horny")

Dad loved to take us to the ball games, too. We always sat in the nose-bleed section because those were the cheapest tickets. Mom never really liked to go, though, because she was afraid of heights, and our seats were literally the highest in the arena. I felt bad that Mom didn't come (I think it was partly because she didn't care too much for sports anyway), so I stayed behind with her (even though I really really really wanted to go to the game). We had a fun night just me and her. And because they thought I was so thoughtful, Mom and Dad decided to take me out. Just me. Nobody else. They said I had two choices: 1) Go to a Jazz game or 2) Go get ice cream. Although I really wanted to go to the Jazz game again, I chose number two, because I knew Mom would still be scared. But hey, ice cream is never a bad choice!

That Jazz team was our dream team. I remember the famous words of the announcer yelling, "John Stockton sends the Utah Jazz to the NBA Finals!" We were hootin' and hollerin' and jumping up and down for joy in our basement. We thought for sure they'd win it all. We were back east at the time they played the championship game against those blasted Chicago Bulls (with Michael Jordan, Scotty Pippen, and Dennis Rodman). Oh how I hated them. We lost. And I remember silently crying at night on the floor of the hotel room because I was so upset. Mom heard me and asked what was wrong. I'm pretty sure she just laughed at it, but she didn't in front of me. She knew I was crushed at their loss. I guess that was an early sign that I don't handle losing well?

Date Night

We used to own a small, brown Bronco. (Not the large one like OJ Simpson was chased in). My parents were headed out for a date one night, and all of us kids were to stay behind. Sneaky Tenille, however, snuck in the back and hid under a blanket until my parents were halfway to their destination. Apparently they thought it was cute and let her join in on the date while the rest of us enjoyed hot dogs at home...lol.

I remember Mom and Dad going on dates a lot actually. (Something Matt and I need to be better at). I was always so curious whenever they were headed to the temple with the ward. Those old, turquoise suitcases were so interesting to me. I had to know what they kept inside those. And why did they need a suitcase if they weren't staying overnight? I was dying to see what was in them, but I never had the guts to open it.

We kids thought we were pretty cool. Sometimes when Mom and Dad came home we'd have our own little restaurant set up for them. The lights would be dimmed, the intercom had classical music playing, and all of us were dressed in our Sunday best ready to serve them boiled hot dogs. We anxiously awaited hearing the garage door open so we could line up behind the chair with the phonebook on it waiting to see if their name was on our reservation list. Lance was always the waiter--with a penciled on mustache (with Mom's eyeliner tool) and a dish towel draped over his arm, he lead them to their seating area in the "Big Room."

After dinner was served, we always made sure they danced. I'm sure Mom and Dad thought it was silly, but we loved peeking in from the kitchen and entry-way doorways to see them romantically dance.

"1,2,3!"

Every phone conversation with a member of our immediately family ended like this, "1,2,3!"

You might think that's code for something, but it wasn't.

Dad called Mom every day from work around lunch time. They would say their, "I love you's," but afterwards neither one wanted to hang up first. (So cute, isn't it? At least that's how I remember the story...Unless they lied to me...haha) So they always counted, "1,2,3!" and then they could be sure to hang up at the same time.

As kids, we subconsciously picked up on it, too. We began to say, "1,2,3!" when getting off the phone. And even if it didn't have the same meaning for us as it did my parents, it kind of became a catch-phrase around the Banks Home.

Couponing

I know this isn't a memory from my younger days, but it's an ongoing thing I never want to forget. The hubby's a teacher, and as most wise people know, teachers don't get paid well. To help offset our expenses, I started couponing. My sister, Melissa, introduced it to me a few years ago. I follow one particular blog religiously: Freebies2Deals. I've scored everything from cereal, fruit snacks, canned goods, cleaners, lotions, pastas, formula, toys, and clothing for CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP. Just today I came back from another adrenaline rush from Wally-World, scoring four boxes of Scrubbing Bubbles Toilet Cleaners for free, along with a Woolite Spray (for carpet removal) for free. Actually, I got paid. What's better than getting paid to shop? Doing this has definitely helped alleviate costs for our family. and I feel good that I'm doing my part, too--even if I am a stay-at-home mom. ;)

Primary & General Conference

This past weekend was General Conference. While watching it I noticed that some primary children from a stake were singing in place of the Mo-Tab Choir. I had completely forgotten that I once did that, too!

I was 11, almost 12. (I remember how old I was because I felt too old and dumb to still be in primary when all my other friends were already in Young Women.) We practiced every Sunday evening at a stake building. They taught us how to sit properly, how to stand appropriately, what colors to wear (light pastels), how to sing and sound words out like you had a British accent, etc.

The day finally came (a Saturday afternoon session), and we were ready to go. I wasn't nervous. My friends and I all got placed on the very last row high up in the corner of the Tabernacle (this was before the Conference Center was built).

I remembered our leaders telling us to sit very still and reverently during the talks (when the lights were dim) because even though on television nobody can see you, the people in the Tabernacle could. I tried SO hard to be so good. I sat straight up the whole time, listened intently to the speakers, and tried to find my mom and Tenille sitting in the audience. It wasn't easy sitting like that for two whole hours straight, but I did it. I felt so good that I did. And even after my mom and Tenille came to get me and Spence (he also was singing), they complimented me on how well I did staying still--and that not many other kids did it.

The only other thing I remember about this day was when our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinkcley entered the room, everybody stood. As we were standing he walked right in front of us primary children and smiled and waved. I felt like he was looking right. at. me. I felt so good.

I won't ever forget this experience. President Hinckley was the main prophet I grew up with. He was my favorite. I had a really hard time when he passed away almost four years ago. I think this experience was partly how I grew a strong testimony of our prophets.