Is it very far? Go figure.

As you all know we work at the Logan Temple. Since we started working there , I have developed a keen interest in family history and the associated temple work. Over the last year I have researched and submitted many names to have the ordinances performed in the temples of the Church, when this is done these ordinances may be done in any of the Church's 134 operating temples around the world. We submitted these names when we realized that there were so many that we would never be able to get all the work done ourselves or even with the assistance of family, friends, and ward members. One of the names I submitted was a William Ebourne, an alternate spelling of our family name, who is a distant cousin and had lived in England many years ago. On Thursday last, I went to work on our regular shift. The first assignment I had was at the New Name booth. As I took my position, the very first name that was presented to me was, William Ebourne. I was surprised and thought that it couldn't be just a coincidence. After all, these names were sent all over the world and most of the temples are open for many hours each day. What are the chances that a specific name would go through a specific area in the temple during a given few minutes, while I happened to be at that post?

A little less than two hours later I was assigned to be a receiver at the veil of the temple. As I took my position to receive, the very first person who came to the veil was holding the very same card with the name William Ebourne. A tingle went over my whole body and I felt as though I were in the very presence of the spirit of William Ebourne, himself. I could not see him, but I certainly felt his presence and felt the gratitude he was feeling for the work that was being done on his behalf. This is just one of many special and sacred experiences we have had while working in the Logan Temple these past two years. The longer I live the less I believe in coincidence or luck. I have felt and observed, as it were, an unseen hand that guides our lives, never forcing, but gently and lovingly directing the affairs of our lives. It has been a great blessing to us and we feel we are blessing the lives of those who have gone before us and now need our help. What a blessing and honor it is to serve. The veil of the Temple is indeed very thin.

by Bart

Snow

Last night we experienced a major snow event here in Cache Valley and I'm sure many of the rest of the family got in on the same storm.  It came with a fury and lasted only a couple of hours in which about eight inches of snow fell and all of it was accompanied by strong winds.  We were expecting it as it had been forecast right down to the hour and the intensity of the storm and the following drastic drop in temperatures.  We were prepared and so had no need to fear.  This storm took me back in my memories to our growing up days in Bear Lake Valley and experiences we had with the weather while living there. 

     As I think back on those days, I have come to believe that the weather actually had a major role in the way we grew up and on our character development as well. One particular experience stands out in my mind.  I forget the exact year but it would have been when I was about eight or nine years old as I recall.

     In Lanark as well as most of the rest of rural Bear Lake Valley nearly all families depended on small dairy operations for a livelihood. By this time most of the small creameries which had been privately owned and existed in many of the small communities around the valley had been consolidated and a dairy cooperative had been created  with a large creamery and cheese plant built just about a mile north of Paris.  Farmers from all over the valley would send their few ten gallon cans of milk to the creamery in Paris.  The milk was picked up from each place and hauled to Paris by a milk truck driver.  I remember that Uncle Ivan, mother's brother, was the milk truck driver who came each morning to our place and picked up the milk.  He was always singing a song or humming a tune, even when the weather was bad or he got stuck in the snow. 

     Anyway, I remember this terrible storm we had.  The wind blew and blew and it snowed and snowed for several days.  The drifts were immense and for all intents and purposes we were cut off from the rest of the world.  We couldn't even see across the street during this entire time.  One thing that did go on however, was the feeding of livestock and milking of the cows.  After a couple of days all the milk cans were full, and the milk truck could not make its rounds as all of the roads were covered with huge drifts of snow.  Milk was essentially every ones major source of income and as the blizzard continued it became apparent the the farmers would all have to dump their milk, as there was no place to put it.  One thing about cows, they wont hold more than a days milk at a time and preferably only a half days, thus the morning and night milkings.  Dad became concerned about having to dump his milk and knew that all of the other farmers around town were having to do the same.  This could become a major problem for them, and he knew it,  so he harnessed up his team and hitched them to the sleigh and went off into the blizzard.  He soon was joined by another farmer, Dave Parker, who lived about a mile away.  Together they went from one end of Lanark to the other picking up all of the milk cans  full of milk from all the farmers, loading them on to the sleigh in the blizzard and taking them to the creamery in Paris six miles away, where the milk was dumped into the large vats for making cheese.  Then the empty cans were loaded once again onto the sleigh and Dad and Dave were off into the raging blizzard once again.  They now had to return all of the cans so the farmers could refill them once again.  I remember that as the day wore on Mother was very anxious and concerned about Dad out in the blizzard all day.  About dark, the door opened and their stood Dad plastered from head to foot with a thick coat of snow, but thankfully safe and sound.I especially remember how the snow was caked onto his whiskers and face.  I have often thought about this experience and have reflected on what made Dad do this.  First of all, he was physically strong and he was brave.  He was never afraid or reluctant to reach out and help someone in need.  He had faith in the Lord and in himself and even in his team of horses.  He cared about his neighbors and knew that their predicament was equally as dire as his own.  He knew that there were neighbors out there, who had the same concerns that he did, and that they would be willing to help if they could, and that they would be grateful for the help they received, if they couldn't. He did not hesitate, even at great risk even of his life,  to come to their aid.  This was not the only occasion in which he came to the aid of someone in need.  It was a part of him. Throughout the years, I have always been grateful for the example that was shown to me on that wintry day and in the howling blizzard.  People who have spent their lives in the Bear Lake Valley have a name for these blizzards, which happened then much more frequently than they do now, or at least, so it seemed.  They say: "That was a real Bear Laker."

     Another event of my youth associated with the winter weather occurred during my high school years.  I was a Freshman and Ellis was a Senior.  We both attended Fielding High School in Paris. 

There were not a lot of clubs and school activities beyond ball games and dances, but one was a banquet put on by the FFA (Future Farmers of America).  Ellis and I were both a part of this organization and were in line for some sort of award, I think. At this time Dad had a 1950 Plymouth and took us to the dinner and program in Paris.  I can't remember for sure, but they must have had a baby sitter for Brenda, Nina, Reed, and Mark.  Brenda was not old enough to care for them I'm sure and our parents would certainly never have left them alone without adequate care.  Anyway the evening went by pretty much as planned until we started home.  By  the time we reached the Lanark Road the wind was blowing and the snow was drifting heavily across the road. Dad turned on to the road and started towards home.  Soon it became apparent that the car would never be able to break its way through the snow drifts which covered the road and the storm was not letting up.  Mother had been nursing Mark, who at the time was still just a baby.  She knew, she had to get home, and so they assigned Ellis to take me back to Paris and go to Grandma and Grandpa Eborn's and ask to stay with them.  Of course, they let us.  Dad and Mom then took off on foot through the drifting snow, knowing that somehow they just had to get home, Mom to nurse the baby and take care of the kids they had left at home and Dad to milk the cows in the morning. Somehow, they made it and all went well, but it once again showed the love and determination they had for all of us.  First of all, they were supportive of Ellis and me in our school activities and secondly they were not to be dissuaded from the even more

challenging task of getting home so they could care for the younger children.  It took about three days before the roads were finally open and we could return home.  Most of the school buses couldn't make it in to Paris during this time, but the Paris kids and, of course, Ellis and I and some others who also couldn't make it home had to go to school anyway.  Needless to say, school was more play than work during those days, but we, nonetheless, felt a little put upon.  This story is true to the best of my recollection, but there may have been a few things I'd forgotten or got mixed up.  Maybe Ellis could clarify if need be.

By Bart

The Harvest Season Memories

Today, my thoughts are of my wonderful mother.  It is her birthday and were she still with us she would be 98 years old.  I'm sure she's in a better place and happily watching over us just as she did when she was here on this earth.  November is special to me because I always am reminded of the special person who was our mother.
November is also a special month of thanksgiving.  It is also commemorated a a month of the harvest although the harvest in the Bear Lake Valley was usually over by November and often the ground was already covered with snow before the month was over.  As with all of the other months of the year, November holds special memories for me and I'm for other members of the family.  Our family worked hard to make sure that our harvest included enough bottled fruit and vegetables to get us through the winter.  That was no small task for a family of eight.  We didn't always depend on what we could buy at the grocery store in town.  My personal memories are of Mother shelling peas and canning almost anything that would fit in a bottle.  I remember not only the traditional fruits and vegetables, but venison stew and bottled meats and chili beans etc..  I remember also butchering pigs and putting some of the cuts of meat in a brine and spice solution to soak.  This had two major purposes.  It gave the meat a special tasty flavor as in ham and bacon and it also was a way to preserve the meat in the days before we got a freezer.  Some of the special things that Mother canned and put away on the shelves were Mom's Chili Sauce.  Pickled Beets, and I even remember her bottling mince meat which was used for an occasional special pie.  I remember planting potatoes and in the fall digging them and then trying to keep them for use later in the winter and early spring.  We had to work at it, but I'm sure no one ever went to bed hungry in our home.  Sometimes it was potatoes and milk gravy with a little bit of sausage.  This was especially good with some of Mom's home made Chili Sauce.  I even like it to this day.  I learned to like bread and milk of which there was always plenty.  Mother was an outstanding cook in spite of not always having a lot to work with.  She could make an excellent meal out of what we would now consider to be very meager ingredients.  The smell of Mother's home made bread when we came home from school, is a memory which will fondly linger in my mind until the day I die.  Home made bread a a slice of cheese always tasted so good.  I also remember fondly the home made cookies, the Yorkshire puddings and rice puddings with raisins, as wonderful pies of different kinds which were served on special occasions.  One thing I don't think I appreciated as much as I should have at the time was the fact that for many of my growing up years Mom did all this cooking and baking in a wood fired stove.  Just keeping the fire burning was in and of itself no small task.  It seamed we were always scrambling to find a few extra sticks of wood, so that the bread could finish baking or something else could be cooked completely.

Below are pictured some of my favorite tastes and smells form our kitchen.

Home made bread 5-6 loaves twice a week.

Home made Chili Sauce.  I loved the smell of it being cooked on our wood burning stove.  It tasted yummy too.  We always bought a few bushels of tomatoes from a peddler who would come around in the fall.  Mom made those tomatoes last all year, chili sauce, tomato juice etc.

Beets were one thing we could grow well in Bear Lake Valley,  Mom bottled them as a vegetable and also as Pickled Beets which I especially liked.

Another favorite memory of the harvest season was when we harvested the grain (wheat and barley.)

Dad always hired someone who had a combine to come in and harvest the grain.  I remember so well sitting in a big truck full of wheat eating raw wheat by the hand full.  It actually tasted pretty good. And the smell of the freshly harvested wheat and barley is a lingering memory that just wont go away.  Dad always worked very hard to get a good crop and then to get it harvested in a timely manner.  I remember one year in particular.  The barley harvest was very good.  I can still hear Dad telling me that his crop that year yielded nearly a hundred bushel per acre.  Such was unfortunately not always the case due to lack of water and untimely frosts. Most of the  grain was sold as a much needed cash crop with some being retained for feed for the animals.

A bumper crop of barley, this was used as a cash crop, but also as feed for the animals, pigs, chickens

and cattle.

by Bart

Halloween in Lanark

Does anyone remember how Mom would dress up for Halloween and greet the Trick and Treaters?  I think she was dressed up as a witch and she had fun right along with the kids! Halloween was fun for all of us in Lanark, Idaho.  Lanark is located in the southeast part of Idaho and as a young child, we walked along the dark gravel roads trick or treating.  No street lights!  No paved  highways!  It was quite an experience just moving about the town.  Houses were not close and we
tried to go from one end of the town to the other.  Houses were at least a quarter of a mile apart.
I don't remember what we did during my younger years, but I suppose we went in cars and then later I remember tagging along with older siblings, and then finally as a teen ager, going in groups.  We would get invited into almost every house by the time we were teen agers and our treat was often a piece of pie, or a doughnut, or popcorn balls.  It was quite safe to roam about in those days and except for having our candy stolen by a "dumb older kid" I don't remember any scary incidents.  Some of us probably played a few tricks on people, but I didn't get in on those.  I just heard about some of them.

The Younger Brothers

                       The Younger Brothers   Reed and Mark -- Cute!

I was thinking of my little brothers this morning and thought I would add this picture. I found this picture behind another picture that I brought home from the folks’. They were sure cute little brothers! I was remembering that I was in the fourth grade in our Aunt Opal’s class, when Reed was born, and I went across the street from the school, that day at noon hour to Grandma and Grandpa Eborn’s house, which was across from the playground. I don’t remember which uncle was there but he told me that I had a new little brother, and that they had found him along the road, or some similar story, and that I now had a new baby brother. I think I must have been a very gullible child, or just naive because I wondered if it was true. About five years later when Mark was born, I must have also been naive because it was only a few weeks after I found a baby blanket under Mom and Dad’s bed that Mom had another new baby boy. We now had a family of two boys, two girls, and two more boys. In those days, to my recollection, parents didn’t talk much of the new baby that was coming. Maybe I was in the other room, or outside, but I didn’t have any of those conversations. A few weeks before Mark was born, Mom did tell me that she would be going to the hospital soon, and she would need some help at home during this time. I never even knew she was going to have a baby. I guess I wasn’t very observant either! Mom talked about staying in the hospital for about ten days when her babies were born. I remember Mom saying that Mark said, in later years, “I don’t know why I had to be the last one born.” He felt like he missed out on the Easter Egg dyeing and some of those events that by the time he came along, parents had had enough of that kind of fun. Only when we get older do we understand!

Brenda

Robert Price

Thursday, October 21, 2010

My Greatgrandfather, Robert Price

Recently, I was able to obtain a copy of the book, Robert Price, by Ezra J. Poulsen. I had read it forty years ago shortly after it was published. Robert Price is my maternal great grandfather . Mother had a copy of this book and I'm not sure who ended up with it after her passing. It would do us all well to find a copy, they are currently out of print, and read it and reflect deeply on the faith, strength, and ability of this man. He was an early settler in the Bear Lake Valley having immigrated to the United States and Utah after his conversion to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was called to assist in the establishment of the Bear Lake Colony by Brigham Young, and though he had lived most of his life in a big city, he accepted the challenge and accomplished many truly miraculous thing there during his lifetime. One of the things he did toward the end of his life was to create a sawmill at the head of Worm Creek. This was an area of roadless wilderness located in the mountains west of and between Bloomington and St. Charles. There used to be an old iron steam engine there years ago and I had seen it some twenty five years ago while hiking in the area with some of my sons. I can't remember exactly which ones, except I know Justin was with me. When I read the Robert Price book this past week I determined to go and see if I could find the old steam engine which my great grandfather had some how gotten up to the head of Work Creek. I hiked and found the area I thought it was in but no steam engine. Perhaps it has since been hauled out and sold as scrap metal. That would have been a difficult project in and of itself. The day was not wasted though. I had time to contemplate the life of one of my ancestors and to count my blessings for my heritage. I saw several old tree stumps that appeared to have been left after the trees had been fallen, maybe a hundred years ago by one of the workers for my great-grandfather. It was a singular and humbling experience.

The photo above is a picture of my great-grandfather, Robert Price.  The name Robert Price was printed on the bottom of the Photo by my mother, Edna Hymas Eborn.  He was born at Great Missenden, Buckinghamshire, England in 1835.  He joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints  when he was baptized by and Elder Smith on September 4, 1853.  He was eighteen years old and living alone in the great city of London at the time, having struck out on his own some three years earlier.  His faith in the restored gospel grew and never faltered.  He married Matilda Kelsey on October 13,1855 at Clerkenwell, a district in the North end of London in the borough of Finsebury.  She had previously converted to the Church, perhaps in the Dover area of southeastern England where they had lived previously.  Some time later, at the direction of Church leaders, Robert Price entered into the practice of plural marriage.  His second wife was, Sussanah Juchau, who was a friend of the family and had actually accompanied Robert and Matilda Price across the Great Plains to Utah leaving with the Milo Andrus Company from Florence, Nebraska in July of 1861.  At the time the United States were engaged in the great Civil War, it having broken out in April 1861.  Faraway Utah in the Rocky Mountains must have seemed a heaven on earth in spite of the rigorous journey and the difficulties of pioneer life in the West at the time.  Susannah Juchau, through whom our family descends, was just fifteen years old at the time and drove one of the Robert Price family wagons to Utah and assisted the frail Matilda with the children and other family chores.  Robert and Matilda had serious reservations about the principle of plural marriage, but they agreed to follow the instructions of their Church leaders and were glad to have Susannah, a capable, loving and trusted friend,  as a part of the family.  They were married March 2 1864 in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City, Utah.  Robert would later take three additional wives.  For the most part the lived amicably together, not in the same house, in Paris, Idaho where Robert and his families settled following a call from the Prophet to relocate to the Bear Lake Valley in 1869, just six years after its settlement by Apostle Charles C. Rich and a company of pioneers in 1863.

     My Grandmother, Elizabeth Price, was the daughter of Robert Price and his wife, Susannah Juchau Price.

The above photo is a picture of my grandmother, Elizabeth Price Hymas.

The above photo is of three daughters Robert Price, Elizabeth, Polly, and Grace.  Ezra J. Poulsen refers to them as the "inseparable ones".  They were daughters of the same father and different mothers, and growing up in the small village of Paris during pioneer times had become very close friends as well as sisters.  They were all married on the same day in the Logan, Utah LDS Temple, September 18, 1879.

      I'm very glad I reread the book, Robert Price. I learned a great deal about my greatgrandparents and grandparents that I had not recalled from my previous reading.

 
by Bart

Canning with Mom

Food for the long Bear Lake winter.

I wish my memory were better, but I certainly enjoy reading about Mom and Dad and their family. After reading the Darrell and Edna Eborn Clan blog I do remember those days and events.  It then brings to recall a memory of my own.  I was remembering Mom and canning time.  I know that Nina and I got involved in this, mostly during the fall season, and we too were impressed when the bottles were all full.  I especially liked the looks of the peaches and pears.  Mom canned whatever she could.  I remember going over to Preston a time or two and picking green beans and coming home and canning them in the pressure cooker.  That pressure cooker sounded a little scary to me as it let off its steam.  Then we closely stood near by the stove and watched to make sure it did not go over that certain number.  It required a certain amount of pressure, 12 pounds for beans, if I remember right.  The fruits, of course, received a hot water bath.  We got to peel and remove the pits and help prepare the simple syrup for the berries and fruits.  I remember drying apricot stones and after they were dried we would eat the nut inside.  In later years, we were told they were not to be eaten, for some reason that I don't recall.  I still like to can and see the bottles full - now in my own home.  Sometimes I kept the kids from opening bottles until after the first snow fell and sometimes I gave in, just as Mom did.

by Brenda

The Berries

It seems like my thoughts have been turned to the berries lately.  Usually beginning in the first part of August one of family activities was to go into the mountains and pick huckleberries.  These are a small and very tasty berry that grows wild in cretain parts of the forests surrounding the Bear Lake Valley.  They are quite often plentiful, though in some years they are rather hard to find.  Our family had several places which were our favorites.  One of the closest was up behind Neibuhr Spring in the Dry Fork area in a place we called, of all things, Huckleberry Hill.  I remember going with Dad and Mom nnd some of the family and we would usually come home with a few gallons.  I remember Dad saying that you were really doing well if you got in a spot where you could pick a gallon every four hours.  I have come to realize, that he really did know what he was talking about.  Very rarely, have I found a spot where I could pick any more than a gallon in that period of time.  Some might say they are not worth the effort, but they were free fruit for the family and Mom could make a huckleberry pay like none other.  We were grateful for the fruit and came to enjoy our time sitting in the huckleberry patch picking all day.  As a youth we always had to quit a little bit early in order to get home and get the cows milked before dark  Sometimes Dad would go picking alone and sometimes Mom did too.  I remember once Mom telling me about how she had decided to go picking huckleberries up in Mill Canyon. She found a good patch and as the day wore on she was beginning to fill her second gallon bucket.  Dad had come home from turning a few streams of water as the watermaster on the Lanark Canal and decided to go see if he could find her.  He did and as she sat picking in the berry patch Dad came in from behind her and scared/ surprised her.  I think she was nonetheless very happy that he was thinking of her and that he came looking.  I can imagine the good conversation they had for the rest of the day.  Of course they had to be back to milk the cows and take care of the kids. 

       The tradition of picking huckleberries did not originate in our family with Mom and Dad and us kids though.  I remember Mom telling us about her childhood years when the whole Hymas clan would go camping up Emigration Canyon around Grandpa Benjamin Hymas' birthday and stay until they had several ten gallon milk cans full of huckleberries.  That seems almost impossible, but then we must remember that it was a family affair, and it was no small family. 

     I also remember Dad telling about one of the neighbors in Lanark who had gone up into the mountains to pick huckleberries and had picked two large buckets full.  While he was picking the second bucket full he had put the first bucket under a tree until he was finished.  When he finished the second bucket, he searched and searched, but could not find his treasured bucket of berries.  He went home with one bucket full and when he told the sad story of the full bucket sitting under some tree in the mountains his wife was furious.  Dad said for the next several days this poor hen-pecked husband could be seen early in the morning heading for the hills on his horse in search of the the lost bucket of huckleberries.    I know not whether he ever found them or if the whole story was absolutely true, but it made a good story and serves to emphasize the value of a bucket of huckleberries both then and maybe even now.

      Since those first days of picking and relishing Mom's huckeberry pies, I have tried to keep up the tradition.  Every year about the end of July I can be found out in the woods exploring some of my favoite huckleberry haunts to see what the harvest will be like in the next few weeks.  I have discovered many good places.  They are not all good every year, but it is a rare year whe I can't find enough to fill a few buckets and to relish all winter long and into the next summer.  Some of my favorite places are Huckleberry Hill,  Mill Canyon in Emigration Canyon,  Copenhagen Basin,  North Canyon,  Ant Basin,  Cheatback, Stauffer Canyon,  Skinner Canyon, and Georgetown Canyon and at the RC& D Camp.  I have done a lot of exploring as you can see and have enjoyed every moment of it.

     A little over a week ago I took Reed and we  went up by the RC& D Camp in Emigration Canyon and spent about eight hours picking huckleberries, and I might add, in our advanced years and the frame of our minds, philosphizing, mostly on subjects of religion, but sometimes just about life in general.  It was a great day and the four gallons of huckleberries we came home with at the end of the day were really just a bonus.  We couldn't help but wonder what Mom and Dad were thinking as they looked down from the Heavens and listened to us in deep discussion as we sat and scooted through the huckleberry bushes on the seat of our pants stainingg them a deep purple as we picked and prodded one antothers minds.

     On a melancholy note, I missed my dog, River, who had gone with me on these ocassions for thirteen straight years.  He passed away last fall.  He would sit next to me and eat the declicous little berries right off the bush all day.  We would later find little huckleberry flavored tootsie rolls around the yard and on the lawn at home for the next several days.

One at a time,  how many will it ake to fill a gallon bucket?

     Life is good.

By Bart

Eborn Reunion 2010 : A Good Time Was Had by All

On Saturday, July 17th, the extended family of Darrell and Edna Eborn met at The State Park on the east side of Bear Lake for a family reunion. Many of the family was able to attend and those who were unable to make it missed a good time. Family came from far and near. Those who had to travel great distances, like Erin from Texas and Hannah from Moscow and Nina and Steve's clan from Boise were especially appreciated. It was good to get together and renew old acquaintances and see how everyone is doing. It was also fun to sing happy Birthday as an extended family to Jason. Happy 43. We are a very blessed family in so many, many ways. This Reunion came about largely through the organizing efforts of Reed and Lorraine and their family. All of the rest of us wish to thank them for all of their efforts. It turned out to be a great success and I was especially glad that we decided to have another Family Reunion next summer. Now we all have something to look forward to again.
I took lots of pictures and am including a few of them here. I'm sorry if you weren't included in the pictures. No slight is intended. It's just that there are a lot of us.

Reed not only did most of the organizing, but also did most of the cooking and took as many as wanted to go for a ride on his wave runner. Thanks, Reed, for everything.



Everyone was happy to see Michelle and her sweet kids. Here is Iris giving Michelle a hug.

Rachel was actually the one who suggested the family Reunion. Nothing happens unless someone plants the seed. Thanks, Rachel. She is going to be the new Vice Principal at a new Elementary School in Moab. I think some of the family is hoping she will have a big basement down there. Good luck in your new assignment.

Here are Justin and Gail recalling old times.

Ryan, Samantha, and MEgan relaxing a bit.

Here is Philip trying to prove his tough guy reputation, ha, I think, the may have met his match in Garrett, Gavin, and Ethan.

Here are Myrna and Dean. They are still looking good. It was good to see those of your family who made the journey to the Reunion.

No family reunion would be complete without plenty of great food and conversation. This one was no exception.

And of course, if you come to Bear Lake for a Reunion, you have to spend some time cooling off and having fun in the cool waters of Beautiful Bear Lake. This is just a small sample of all the fun that was had in the lake and on the beach.

Again , thanks to all who came. Please stay in touch and keep us informed about what is happening in your family.

Eborn Reunion

 Bear Lake
 is calling all of the
Darrell and Edna Eborn Clan

Honestly! Don’t you think it’s time we got together?



What: The 2010 Darrell and Edna Eborn Family Reunion


Who: As many of the Eborn clan as can come.


When: July 16th and 17th


Where: Idaho State Park at Bear Lake (South Shelter area on East side of Bear Lake) Friday bonfire/camp at the Farm.


Why: To get re-acquainted, have some summer fun, and honor Grandma and Grandpa.


What should I bring for Friday night bonfire at the farm?


All the family you can pack up


Tents and bags if you plan to camp at the farm on Friday night.


Your own drinks and anything you’d like to eat with hot dogs and marshmallows. (Condiments and buns will be provided also.)


Something to help build some campfire memories


What about the next day, Saturday July 17th?


Up and at ‘em! Pancakes and eggs served at the Lake from 8:00-10:00 a.m. Bring your own drinks.


$5 per car load to get into the park


Lunch will be at 1:00 p.m. Bring a salad or dessert or whatever you like to complement Sloppy Joes, which will be provided. Please bring your own drinks.


Reunion Roundup right after lunch!


EEH Hah! I’m comin’! Who needs to know?


Please RSVP through your branch of the tree by July 10th


Bonfire and campout: Mark Gail 208-945-2186


At the Lake: Reed or Lorraine 208-945-1049 or reedeborn@yahoo.com

Happy 70th Birthday To Bart

Happy 70th Birthday To Bart

Not too long ago we thought 20 was old. Now we have to add a half century to it. Rather sobering isn't it. Born on May 29th 1940 as the second child of Darrell and Edna Eborn he began life in a 2 room log house. Much about those days have been previously been written in this blog. Bart we owe you a lot of gratitude for starting and perpetuating this blog. Hopefully as time passes more of the family will desire to contribute. Its value will be apparent many years in the future.

I have been reflecting on some things that most of you may not know that I could include in this Birthday. One of his nick names was “Bishop”. This was a name given to him by Afton Eborn Roberts. Every time she would see him she would say “hi bishop”. She apparently knew something that the rest of didn't because being “Bishop” was a to be his calling and a name by which he will always be called.

As children we had none of the modern toys, TV or even a telephone to converse with friends. As a family we worked hard and played little. When we could, the kids would engage in games such as kick-the-can, hide-and-seek, soft ball and a few other games that seemed lots of fun at the time. We also went fishing sometimes up at Lyman Hymas farm which had been leased by Dad. Bart's biggest problem was dealing with his older and not always patient brother.

It took the whole family to survive and Bart was a major part of that effort. When Dad leased the farm from Lyman Hymas it came with a fairly large dairy herd and a flock of sheep. Bart and I were 12 and 9 respectively. It became our responsibility to milk all of cows at the Lanark farm, feed the cows, calves and pigs and clean the barn. Our day began about 5:30 each morning and ended after the chores were done in the evening—usually 7:00-7:30. In the summer we worked in the fields during the day. Both Bart and I did jobs that I can't imagine a 12 and a 9 year old would do today. Times change it seems. To those reading this it may seem a harsh way for kids, and families, to live but in a strange way there was a lot of satisfaction in being able to do those jobs at such a young age. We received a lot of praise from family and neighbors. Maybe that's what kept us going.

We were proud of Bart when he accepted a call to serve a mission in Germany. He served as a strong missionary, mastered the language, and provided leadership skills to help the Church grow. The skills he learned and the growth achieved has been instrumental during the remainder of his life in serving in the Church and raising a strong close family. That only happens with considerable effort.

Love, Ellis

Dad (Bart) had a difficult time coming into this world. Both he and Grandma Edna nearly died because of his breech position.

This Picture is of Dad (Bart) in 2nd grade. What a handsome little tike. He attended Emerson Elementary in Paris, Idaho. He was good friends with Glen Passey, Gordon Parker, and Kay Hymas. His favorite teachers in Elementary school were Mrs. West and Mr. Roghaar.

Dad grew up on the farm and learned to love nature and animals. He loved to play ball with his older brother Ellis and the neighbor kids. He was a kind and helpful brother to his younger siblings. He worked hard and helped around the farm his whole time growing up. He attended Fielding High School in Paris studying hard, playing basketball and baseball. He graduated in 1958. Following, he attended Utah State University

Dad was called to serve a mission to North Germany in October of 1960- April of 1963. Following his dedicated time serving his mission, he continued to study at USU and graduated with a major in German in 1965. He then got a teaching job in Twin Falls Idaho. Twin Falls proved to be very lucky for him. He met his soul mate of now 44 years. They were married July 29, 1966. He continued his studies in Washington receiving his graduate degree in 1968 starting his family along the way.Dad has been a wonderful man these past seventy years. He was a hardworking, kind brother and son. He studied and learned and got his education as well as served a mission. He loves and adores his bride without any regrets of their time together. He has raised seven children on a teachers salary, struggling to make ends meet as each of us needed many, many things. We never went without and we certainly received far more than we deserved most of the time. He served in many callings in the church, including Bishop for many, many years. He was appreciated by all the members and he made each one feel individually important. He was genuinely concerned for everyone. He was a loving father to not only his own children, but to the members he was trusted to care for.

He taught his children in righteousness and always wanted us to succeed. He supported us in all that we did and still do. He is sure to keep in touch and always lets us know of his love.

His family has grown and grown and grown.

Jason, Rene, JT, Tanner, Megan and Madison

Jared, Shana, Kinsey(Mandi), Emily, Melissa, and Samuel

Justin, Chalisa, Ethan, Hayden and Katherine(Kate) Eborn

Philip, Megan, Garrett, Gavin and Elizabeth(Libbie) Eborn

Ammon, Alison, Addison, Avery and Ada Daugs

Stephen, Candice, Mason, Halle, Gabriel and Sophie Eborn

Ryan, Samantha, Annika, Micah and Tristyn Eborn

Last, but NOT least...River. He was almost as much as one of the kids as we were. Of course in a different way. We were all raised and out of the house when dad had his trusty friend River. He was his side-kick on hikes, biking trips, hauling wood, fishing, picking huckleberries and more. He was a loyal and good friend. Dad loved him very much. River was lucky to have dad be his owner. Every PERSON should be loved as much as he was. He is one of Heavenly Father's Creations and dad treated him as such, right until his last day here. I know dad misses him as we all do. He had a good life and made some good memories for dad.Each of us are now raising our own families in likewise manners as we have been raised. We are doing our best, loving them each and everyday and setting our goals to be eternal.
Happy Birthday dad. We are so blessed that we have spent our lives under your care and loving arms. You have taught us so many wonderful things. The most important being love. We were definitely a loved family. We lived it and said it everyday. It has rubbed off and now our children are the beneficiaries of that affection. We always feel important. We admire everything you are and stand for. It is because of you and mom that we are what we are. I love all my brothers and know that there are NO better men in this world than them. They are so well rounded, honest and loving men. They have followed your example and because of you their families gain all those benefit's. You are our father and without a doubt, our friend. We loved you yesterday, today and forever. Happy Birthday!

Alyssa's Wedding

Today was a very special day.  Alyssa was married in the Logan Temple to a great young man, Ben Owen from Weston, Idaho.  It was a beautiful ceremony and was performed by a relative and a new sealer at the Logan Temple, Jerry Nelson.  It was his very first live sealing and he did a wonderful job.

Here are the newlyweds exiting the temple to greet family and friends.

The happy couple,  Ben and Alyssa Owen,  married 21 May 2010 in the Logan Temple, Logan, Utah.

The beautiful bride, Alyssa.  Ben is a lucky man.
Congratulations, and may your life together be long and happy.

Cool, Clear, Water

Another thing that played a major role in our lives was water, or maybe I should say a lack of it.  Maybe it was the constant struggle to have adequate water for our crops and animals as well as that of the entire community that seemed to occupy so much of our time and energy.

Midnight Mountain and the surrounding area was the reservoir God created to help supply the farmers of Lanark with the water they needed to grow their crops and supply their families with the necessities of life.

It loomed over our childhood home, an ever preasant reminder that God was watching over us.

Dad used to love this song:  "Cool, Clear, Water" especially the versions sung by the Sons of the Pioneers,  Frankie Lane, or Marty Robbins.  I have often heard Dad sing the song.  He had a very good voice sang in the ward choir for much of his life together with Mother and on occasion they even sang duets together.  Neither was musically trained, but they both loved certain kinds of music, especially the hymns of the Church, ballads and country/western songs.  Maybe that is where I developed my love for songs belonging to these genres.

When Dad and Mother bought the farm it was a very dry place.  The soil was fertile and I don't think there was a rock on the entire farm that had not been hauled there by either Dad or the previous owners of the place.  Even with this fertile soil, crops were difficult to grow, partly because of the short growing season of the high mountain valley, which is Bear Lake Valley, but also because of the marginal and unpredictable water supply.  Bear Lake Valley is a part of the Great Basin area of the western United States, which is considered by most to be a desert region.  Bear Lake Valley is located near the Great Basin's northern extremeties and so is not really a desert, though there were times when we wondered.  The very earliest pioneers who settled in the Lanark and Liberty areas began digging irrigation ditches and canals to carry the water which came mostly from the spring and summer runoff as the mountain snowpack slowly melted.  Sometimes the mountains were covered with deep snow which lasted well into the summer months.  Sometimes, there would be an especially warm spring and much of the water that was needed for the summer crops descended from the mountains prematurely and flooded The Bottoms as well as lowlying areas along the streams.  Sometimes the winter snows were not so abundant and this forbode a dry and difficult summer for the farmers of the area, including Dad. One ditch which played a very important role in our lives was a thirteen mile long canal which hugged the western perimiter of the Lanark and Liberty area. It began near the Derricott farm in Liberty and was fed primarily by Mill Creek. It fed lateral ditches which allowed the water to run down by gravity flow to the farms located below the canal. Our farm was the one furthest from the canal and was fed by a, for the most part, hand dug ditch about a mile in length.  Levees had to be built to allow the water to cross over lower lying areas en route to our farm.  One great benefit of our farm when Dad and Mom bought it was that it came with a rather large water right.  It was no more than we needed and often times not enough, but the farm would never have been very productive without it.  Also, Dad served as the Water Master for about forty years.  This required considerable travel, usually on horseback around the Lanark area to turn streams of water to the farmers on a perdetermined basis and then to turn them off when their time expired.  This requied a lot of time, the wages were very poor, though Dad did get paid for this job, and every little bit of extra money was needed and much appreciated.  Being Water Master required considerable organizational as well as diplomatic skill, which Dad seemed to have in rather large measure.  Many times he was the mediator between farmers who were trying to get every last drop of their alotted water, and all to often, a little more than their fair share.  Dad seemed to be able to settle these disputes and keep everybody happy, at least for the most part.  I think his main tools for success in this effort were his unflappable honesty and absolute dependability.  Brcause of these characteristics he was well respected and everybody knew that in the end they would get their fair share of irrigation water from the canal, which was seldom enough, especially as the summer wore on.

     Dad was cleaning one of the long lateral ditches that led to our farm on the day that I was born and as I began to grow older, I too got to do my share.  One of the chief problems was squirrels, ground squirrels.  Often times they would dig their holes in the levvees along the ditch.  As we would clean the ditches these holes became visible and we tried to stop them up so that the water wouldn't escape after it had been turned into the ditch.  More often than not, however, there would be holes we either hadn't noticed or that were not adequaetly stopped off.  This required searching around in the ditch under water to find the hole which was causing the ditch to leak and then getting a large shovel full of sod and stuffing it as tightly as possible into the squirrel hole.  Usually this worked, but it was not always easy and always took more time than we wanted it to, which meant wasting some of the precious water that made the difference between a good crop and one which was less than desired.  This was a yearly process and sometimes had to be repeated, at least to some degree, between  turns for streams of water.

      A springtime ritual in the Lanark area was the cleaning of the South Liberty Canal, as it was known.  It was organized with crews starting from both ends, one at the south end and one at the north end. The size of these crews varied, but was usually about fifteen or twenty men and boys working from both ends.  It was a cooperative venture and each stockholder and owner of water rights in the canal company was required to provide enough labor for cleaning the canal to equal the size of their water right.  It was hard work, but as I look back now, there were a lot of good times as well.  The men and boys seemed to look forward to working shoulder to shoulder in a project that was vital to them all.  Lunch breaks were always filled with good converstaion, stories, and for the most part, what was known locally as BS.  This project usually took about a week.  When the canal was ready, Dad, as the watermaster, would turn the waters from Mill Creek into the Canal and then would walk around the entire length of the canal throwing brush and debris from the canal as the water pushed it out in front of the ever advancing stream.  Sometimes he would have another man with him to help.  It would usually take the better part of the day for the water to make it around to the end of the canal.  It depended somewhat on how much water had been turned in to start with.  More water made for a faster flow to the end of the ditch and less water might have doubled the amout of time it took to reach the end.  Dad became very adept at knowing just how much water to turn in and how much help was going to be needed to throw the debris out onto the bank as the water advanced.  I remember he always came home from these days very tired.  He had a right to be tired.  Just think of walking thirteen miles in a pair of hip boots and throwing debris from the ditch all along the way, with no chance to even set down and rest.  Sometimes I think the older generation was made of sterner stuff than we are today.

     Dad and Mom rarely missed their Sunday church meetings and  the kids were always taken along.  There was only one thing that Dad would miss church for.  That was in the summer in a dry year when the irrigation turn happened to fall on a Sunday.  He would then stay home sometimes and try to steer the water onto any parched knoll he could find.  I'm not sure it payed off, but you could never fault Dad for not trying to get the water where it would do the most good.
     Later Dad was among the first in the area to adopt sprinkler irrigation for the farm.  It was a costly proposition and there was still a lot of work involved as we had hand lines at first, but there was a definite advantage.  Water could readily be applied to any area of the farm and we didn't have to wait for a water turn from the South Liberty Canal.  A couple of small dams were created in the slough which ran through the main pasture.  These dams could hold excess water enough to keep the pipes running for several days.  Additionally a knew source of water was utilized as the flood waters of the meadows north of our place backed up into our pasture.  Dad had an electric line run over to a spot at the far north end of the pasture and was then able to utilize electric power to run the pump for irrigating with the sprinkler system.  Originally the power had been supplied by an old tractor, which was a lot more trouble and not nearly as efficient.  With sprinkler irrigation the farm became generally much more productive than it had been when we had to irrigate using gravity flow and ditches.  Eventually the ditches, which at one time seemed so vital, fell in to disrepair and were mostly plowed under and the area they had occupied was planted and crops were cultivated where the ditches had been.  This is just one example of the progress Dad made on the farm.  Others included the shift from horses and horsedrawn equipment for most of the farm work to tractors and more modern machinery.  Likewise the milking operation was modernized over the years to allow for more production and better use of one's time.  The problem with the modern methods of farming was their expense.  It was a careful balancing act to keep the profits from production ahead of the costs of the same.  Generally, Dad was a very good manager and seemed to make ends meet quite well.  Part of the reason for that was his concern about debt.  He tired to stay out of debt and when he did have to borrow, he made a point ot pay of his debt ahead of schedule.  People knew this and he always had good credit.

By Bart

Happy Anniversary

April sixteenth marks Dad and Mom's 74th Anniversary.  They were married in the Salt Lake Temple with not a single member of either family attending the wedding.  It was just a long distance to Salt Lake and everyone had other things to do.  Such was the life of farming families during the 1930s and the Great Depression.  Uncle Ivan had taken them to Salt Lake where they were married.  I rembember Mother telling me of how she walked down to his place on the crusted snow over the fences there in Liberty to begin the trip with Dad to Salt Lake City.  They were gone just a few days and when they returned it had turned much warmer and the snow was almost all gone with snowmelt run off water everywhere.  They then made their home in the old Arthur Eborn home in Lanark.  I'm so glad they were married and that a temple marraige was important to them.  I know that as a result we were all born in the covenant and are heirs to the great blessings promised if we are faithful.  I appreciate the example of love, hard work, sacrifice, and complete fidelity that they gave to all of us.  We were indeed born of goodly parents!!

There was no wedding picture that I am aware of,  but fortunately we have some pictures taken at various other stages in their married life.

This picture was taken on their wedding anniversary 1n 1960.

The picture above shows them together in 1980.

Here they are in 1986 at their golden wedding anniversary party which was held in the Liberty Church.  This event was attended by many family, neighbors, and friends.  It was good to be there and honor them, but I think the best thing we can ever do to honor our noble parents and grandparents is to live honorable lives ourselves.

by Bart

Milking Cows and Drinking MIlk

I have often reflected on the circumstances of my youth and I am sure that most of you have been affected by many of the same things that I was to one degree or another. One of the things that was a constant throughout all of our growing up years was the morning and evening ritual of milking the cows. Mother had been raised on one of the larger dairy farms in the area and Dad undoubtedly had his share of experiences with milking cows from a very early age. I remember Dad telling about how he helped Uncle Leo Passey with his milking and chores beginning at a very tender age, probably around eight. For most of the families in Lanark, a few dairy cows were almost a way of life. They provided a living for nearly all of the families in town, and for that matter throughout the Bear lake Valley. Almost every family had a few milk cows to go along with the other farm animals. One of the older men in town once spoke of a very fundamental economic prinicple, which seemed to govern most of the families in Lanark, whether they were aware of it or not. His name was David Orr and though he was no great philosopher, he did have things figured out fairly well so far as the basics go. He used to say that in order to survive in Bear Lake Valley a family should have one cow for every two kids in the family. This, of course, was basic subsistance economics, but it was probably quite true. Cows provided not only milk, but cheese, cream, and butter. Each cow had a calf every year which would then be raised and later either added to the dairy herd if it was a heifer or slaughtered and turned into beef if it was a bull. The hide was then used for everything from making shoes to harnesses for the teams. I didn't always appreciate the milking or the cows for that matter nearly as much as a perhaps I should have done. We always had plenty of milk to drink. Yes, it was raw milk and we didn't get TB or any other malady from drinking it, contrary to the concerns of more modern society. I well remember how good mother could make a little stale homemade bread covered with milk gravy and maybe a little sausage or bacon mixed in together with a couple of tablespoons full of homemade chili sauce and a little salt and pepper taste. I well remember watching Mom or Dad standing at the seperator and hand turning it as the cream was separated from the milk. I remember the old wooden churn which was used to churn butter from the cream and I remember the good taste of fresh buttermilk. Mother grew up milking cows and making cheese on her father's farm in Liberty and though I don't recall her making much cheese at our place, I do remember that on occasion she would make a batch of cottage cheese, which ,when salted, was very good to the taste.

If a farmer could get enough milk cows and was able to provide feed and a barn for them, it seemed to be one of the biggest indications that he was prospering. For most of my growing up years we had a herd of milking dairy cattle which numbered about ten to twelve and eventually grew after I was grown and no more living at home to more than fifty cows. Of course in the early days the cows were milked by hand, but for most of the time that that was one of my duties we had vacuum milking machines which did most of the work for us. The machines also made it possible for farmers to milk more and more cows which added to the family prosperity. The milk was poured into ten gallen milk cans and kept as cool as possible until morning when the milkman made his daily rounds and hauled the milk to the creamery near Paris where it was sold and made into cheese and other dairy products. Nearly every farmer sent their milk to this creamery which was a co-operative business owned by the dairy farmers themselves. There were other creameries in some of the towns around the Valley. There was one in St.Chalres and Bern, and Geneva just to name a few.

MiIking the cows was a chore, of course, but it wasn't as bad as we often pretended it would be. Above is a picture of a hungry kitten being fed by squirting milk directly into its mouth as the cow is being milked. I remember Ellis and I having milk wars across the barn when we were milking at the Lyme Hymas farm.

To some it may seem a little digusting, but to me that was milk that actually tasted pretty good. Speaking of the Lyme Hymas Farm, it was located about two and a half miles from our place and belonged to an elderly farmer by the name of Lyman Hymas. He and Dad were pretty good friends and one day Dad came home and announced that he was going to lease the Lyme Hymas Farm. This he did when I was about nine years old and Ellis was about twleve. The Lyme Hymas Farm was considerably bigger than ours and more properous. He milked about twenty cows. From this point on Dad would get up early in the morning and head to the Lyme Hymas place to do the milking and chores that needed to be done there. This left Ellis and me to take care of the milking, feeding etc. at the home farm. I remember rising very early, bundling up, and going to the barn with Ellis to milk the cows, feed the new calves, and the cattle before breakfast and then hurrying to catch the school bus at the end of the lane. This didn't happen just once in a while. Dairy cows have to be milked twice a day, no matter what, and we both soon came to understand what responsibilty was. I think we may have occasionally complained, but we never even considered it as a possibility to get out of our chores and milking the cows. We felt needed and that made a huge difference I think in the way we approached life and probably helped shape our work ethic as much as any other thing. It is important to be and feel needed. The picture below shows Dad in front of the first dairy barn that we had. It was not a very good building. It had a wooden board roof which leaked profusly and a wooden plank floor which held us up and allowed the barn liquids to seep down between the planks. I can still remember walking along these planks and watching the fluids come up through the cracks. Eventually this barn burned down for some reason. I think it may have been an electical fire. I recall being awakend in the middle of the night and told that the barn was on fire. Dad and some of the neighbors tried in vain to put out the fire, but to no avail. After this we had to milk the cows outside in the corral until a new barn could be built . This went on for several months and I remember, that Mom would come down and help us milk. Dad had tried very hard to save her from this task after they were married, but she kenw how to milk a cow and she was not afraid to pitch in and help, especially during this difficult time after the old barn burned down. Finally a new and larger barn was finished and it had a cement floor. This was a vast improvment over the old one that had burned to the ground. Sometimes our hardships turn ito blessings. Such was the case when the old barn burned down.

This gave us more room for growth and the dairy herd began to increase in number up to about 15 or 18 cows. This was a good sign and our little family seemed to be prospering a little more as the time went by.

We now were milking cows in a more modern place and using a more modern method similar to what is seen in the pictue below.  Sometimes, what may seem like a minor tragedy turns out for the best as was the case of the old barn burning down.  It took some time and a lot of effort and I'm sure probably more money than Dad and Mom had at the time, but we all pulled together and things seemed to turn out for the best. At least we moved past Dave Orrian econimic theory of economics  and operated at at a little different level.  It was still work and there was no getting away from it, the cows still had to be milked twice a day, morning and night as regular as sunrise and sunset.

Below we see the miricale of the milking machine at work.  Most cows could be milked in five minutes or less with little physical effort.  The milk was also of a better quality, uncontaminated by the human hand.  The milk was then poured through a stainer into ten gallon cans.

The ten gallon cans were made of a type of stainless steel and looked very much like the ones below.  During the course of my growing up years I remember setting as few as two and as many as eight milk cans full of milk out by the road to be picked up by the Milkman.  By the way, one of the men who hauled milk to the creamery was, Uncle Ivan Hymas, Mom's brother.  It was fun to have him drop by every day to pick up  the milk, though our meetings were always short.  He needed to get on with his work.  It seemed like he was always singing a song of some sort in spite of having to lift the heavy milk cans into his truck.

Our milk cows were mostly Holsteins, similar to the one you see below.  They produced a lot of milk if they were cared for properly.  Sometimes a good cow could produce as much as ten gallons of milk a day for a while after having a calf.  The cows calved annually and taking care of the calves was another project that most of us kids were involved in at one time or another.  Getting the cows from the pasture was another chore that took place twice a day in summer.  In the winter the milking cows were kept in the barn and fed right where they were milked.  Another thing we learned to do was to fix fence and keep the cows from getting into the alfalfa and bloating.  We did see some failures in this and as a result lost a few cows who died from eating too much alfalfa to fast.  This was always a sad time and a major loss for a stuggling family on the small dairy farm.

At one point in Dad's dairying experience he  tried a different beed of cattle.  The Ayrshire cow was a rather handsome animal, red and white, rather than black and white like the Holstein.  There were a couple of reasons behind Dad's thinking in this regard.   They were supposed to be a little more hardy than the Holstein, and  they produced milk with a higher butterfat content and therfore worth more money at the creamery.  This was only an experiment and, though we milked some Ayrshires for a few years Dad gradually returned to nearly all Holsteins.  A prize Ayrshire cow is pictured below.

Eventulally the barn we built was replaced by an even more modern system, a milking parlor with a refrigeratted tank that held four or five hundred gallons of milk.  Mark and I helped Dad with most of the building after Iris and I moved back to the Bear Lake Valley. We also built a large red metal loafing shed for the milk cows.  Dad was proud of his new system even though it was more costly and had been a big decision for him at the time it was built.  Dad and Mom were getting older by this time and the kids were pretty much gone and I suppose they could have just called it quits and gone to raising beef or hay and grain or someting else, but they were never known as quitters and this was not their reaction at this turning point in their lives either.  Below you will see Dad in his cowboy hat, Dad loved a good cowboy hat, in front of the new milking parlor.  It was kept very clean and Dad spent a lot of time there night and morning. Mom also returned to the barn, I 'm sure mostly to be with Dad while he worked after all the kids had grown up and moved away.  Reed painted the Holstein cow which  was placed atop the milking parlor.

Below is a picture of a stainless steel refrigerated milk tank similar to the one that was installed in the milking parlor.  It held over five undred gallons of milk and was picked up by a large tanker truck every other day.  I remember this tank filled nearly to overflowing on many occasions.

The picture below was taken of the Eborn farmstead after Mark moved back to Lanark and bought the farm from Dad and Mom.  It was taken by our cousin, Kay Hymas, who had an airplane and would always buzz our place when he came to Bear Lake to visit his parents, Calvin and Venna Hymas, who lived in Sharon.  It shows a vast change from the day Dad and Mom bought the farm and to me shows that Dad and Mom were excellent stewards of what they had.

by Bart