Allen Thrower

(Written 11-25-2000)

One of my very favorite snacks is just plain crackers. I just love crackers! I eat them plain. I eat them with peanut butter, with peanut butter and (now sugar free) syrup or preserves; I eat them with peanut butter and bananas. I love 1/4 lb. crackers all crumbled into a can of hot Campbell’s chicken noodle or cream of mushroom soup. I love crackers with a little La Choy soy sauce sprinkled on. I love crackers with “Chinese cheese” (fermented bean cake [fu yi,--tofu.]) I love a can of sardines and crackers or a can of tuna with a little soy sauce and crackers. I love a good hot chili with crackers, or hot salsa and crackers. Any of these are among my favorite meals. My favorite brand now is Keebler. There was a day when brands didn’t matter, but with lots of experience I have a definite choice. It’s not unusual to find a dozen pounds or more of crackers in my cupboard. My doctor says to eat only half a dozen crackers with a meal, but he doesn’t realize that to me a good serving of crackers is almost equal to caviar, a T-bone steak, a platter of shrimp, a lobster or whopping piece of pecan pie. A good store of crackers on hand is a form of riches, as is gold or silver. After all, what are gold and silver for if not to purchase things needed (or wanted,) including good crackers.

When we lived on McFerrin, the Zebra family lived in what was later to become the Donaldson house, across 19th street immediately to the east of us. I was [2-3?] years old at the time. I had the good habit of making the rounds of the neighborhood soliciting, of all things, crackers! I would knock on the back door. Whoever the adult that answered the door, I would invariably ask, in my slow drawl, “Can I have a cracker?” This went on for many, many months. I was almost gratified to get a cracker; and, this satisfied me for the moment.

One day I went to the Zebra’s house on my rounds. I knocked and instead of Mrs. Zebra answering the door, it was their grown daughter Ruby. Ruby was very pretty, and I liked her a lot. From the look on her face I knew right off that something was up, but I didn’t know what. I drawled out my expected request, “Can I have a cracker?” She replied, “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any crackers.” I sighed, and said, “Well,” and took a long, slow breath and continued, “…can I just have a cookie then?” And she broke up with uncontrolled laughter.” I knew then that she was pulling my leg about the cracker, but she got me a cookie anyhow. That’s when I realized that maybe my shenanigans were a little out of line. I think she really meant to teach me a lesson. Anyhow, she did; and, I think that’s when I quit going around the neighborhood begging for crackers. I really loved Ruby Zebra, and in my memory after all these years she is still one of my favorite people, especially at that particular moment.

At the Thrower house on Cameron Farm we sometimes had large family gatherings for a special dinner. Sometimes Mama or Granddad Thrower would let me go with them into the yard for some chore or another. Mama and I gathered eggs. Granddad took me to the barn and let me help him shuck corn and watch him grind it for the chickens—course for the hens and roosters and fine for the chicks. He showed me how to sharpen an axe with a grinding wheel that he activated with his foot. I watched him carefully test the edge with his fingers. He also sharpened a hoe. There were lots of things in the barn that interested me: bridles and bits, saddles, and tools of all kinds. He was very kind and considerate in explaining things to me. I was really interested.

One day I went outside with Mama Thrower and got pretty independent, wandering around looking at things all by myself. In the chicken house was a hen in a nest with lots of eggs in it. Mama lifted the hen so I could see the eggs. She told me that the eggs would hatch and they’d have a brood of little chicks. In the yard there was a large gray turkey with large tail feathers. They also had a goose. We found a goose egg in the hay stack and the goose chased me, nipping at my trousers all the way, and I was scared and crying. Those nips really hurt.

One day at the farm Bobby, Jim, Billie and I climbed a ladder up the oat silo. The oats were beautiful. Hundreds, possibly thousands of bushels of them. We ran oats through our hands and they felt good. I slipped down into the oats, and to all our horror, I began sinking down into them. I was terribly frightened. Someone grabbed me and pulled me up and out. Billie exclaimed that I could have drowned in the oats. We got away from there fast and never went back.

Another day Billie was out in the yard. Someone had a Model T or a Model A car. Somehow it started moving and Billie fell in front of it. The car ran over her, but didn’t break any bones. We were all really shook up over that.

Still another time, Billie, Bobby and Jim had been taking turns riding Billie’s horse, Daisy. As Bobby got off, his foot got hung in the stirrup and for some reason Daisy shied and ran off, dragging Bobby. I just knew Bobby was going to be killed. We all ran after them. Daisy got to the gate that opened onto the highway and stopped there. When we got there, Bobby was all right, and we ere all so glad! I think he had gotten an extra couple of hundred yards out of his turn with Daisy.

One story I recall about Billie on the farm was one told to me; I wasn’t there. She loved horses, and there was a nice little herd of them on the farm. Every evening they would go back to the corral, sometimes the whole herd running. Billie was determined to rope one of the horses from a low bridge they had to run under, so she got a rope, made a loop, and lay down on the bridge waiting for them. As they ran under, she tried to loop one of them around the neck. Fortunately, she missed, for she would have been dragged off the bridge and would probably have been killed.

Granddad Thrower took me up to the Big House on the farm one time. The Camerons were very wealthy and had their own large, private swimming pool up on that hill. That really impressed me. The house was large, but not unseemly so.

During the summer of 1937 we had the very first Thrower-Miles Family Reunion on the Cameron Farm.

One time it was a cold and drizzly Thanksgiving Day. The women were all in the kitchen cooking and talking about grownup things. The men were by the wood stove playing checkers and visiting about the whole world. Everybody was having a good time. All the kids went up the steep, sharply-inclined steps in the kitchen to the attic. I remember Billie, Jim, Bobby, Harris, and the little twins. I don’t remember any others. Billie had been to see a good movie and wanted to share it with us. We rarely, if ever went to movies in those days. For one thing, it was too expensive. (Probably a nickel.) Billie was wonderful at telling stories. She took as long to tell the story as the movie probably took. She tried to leave nothing out, using voice inflections for each character, and her own voice for explanations—and there were many. She gracefully answered any and all questions in case anybody got lost. By the time she was through, we knew the whole story. It was as though we had actually been there.

Before the War, on some hot summer days Mother would fill a #2 washtub with water from the hose and let us swim. It was a fun way to cool off. Sitting still, all three of us could sit in the tub at the same time. Memories are made of this.

I LO-O-O-O-O-O-VE this country of ours. It’s the greatest in the history of the whole world! And the times we live in are also the greatest in the history of the whole world. And we live in the very center of a population that worships God as no other people ever have. We have a wonderful prophet and apostles to lead us where our national leaders don’t even tread. This church has almost 11,000,000 members now; when Jeannie joined it 32 years ago there were about 1,000,000 members. I joined four years later, just before Woody was born.

We have freedoms that I cherish with all my heart:

• Freedom to worship God as we see fit
• Freedom to assemble
• Freedom of the press
• Freedom of speech
• Freedom to travel

4:15 P. M. The phone just rang. It was Zelma and Harvey calling from Waco to tell me that my cousin Patsy (Sutton) Lambert died this morning, while in dialysis for the first time. Patsy will be buried on Friday, July 7, 2000 in Billington, Texas (about 15 miles west of Waco, where her parents, Harley and Dean are buried.) Her body right now is at the Bell Meade Funeral Home. That is a suburb east of Waco. Patsy is the one who introduced Jeannie and me. I’ll tell the story here:

For three years Patsy wrote to me or talked to me in person that she had found “the perfect girl” for me, and wanted me to meet her and date her. I would always tell Patsy I would meet this girl, then as fast as I could I would go the other way. Patsy and Jeannie had been roommates at North Texas State University for three years, until they graduated.

Well, Patsy ended up living back in Waco, Jeannie returned to her parents’ home in Dallas, and for a year of that time I was teaching Band in Santa Rosa, Texas; then I returned to Austin and attended graduate school for a couple of years.

Well, Patsy got engaged. She called me in Austin and asked me to come to her wedding. I said I would. Then she said, “…and, I want you to take the Maid of Honor out on a date after the wedding rehearsal.” I said I would. (Unknown to me, that was Jeannie.) At that time I was dating one of the beauty queens at the University of Texas.

So, I went to Waco for the wedding rehearsal. I had made a plaster-of-Paris mould of Leonardo Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” and painted it with oil paints for Patsy’s wedding gift. Upon arriving at her house (she lived with her parents) I carried that picture to give to her. A girl I had never seen before aswered my knock. She was gorgeous! My eyes opened wide, and I said to myself, “WOW!” And, that’s how I met Jeannie.

Yes, we had a date after the wedding rehearsal. We went bowling, then to a restaurant for dinner. I was falling hard. It was love at first sight.

The next night was the wedding, Jeannie and I had another date. I met her parents and her little brother Fred that night at the wedding, and liked them very much.

There is a custom at weddings for the bride to throw the bridal bouquet to the eligible maidens; and, the one to catch it is supposed to be the next one to get married. WELL! Patsy walked across the room AND HANDED IT TO JEANNIE!

We were married four months later.

At this writing, Jeannie and I are happily married as we approach our 36th wedding anniversary next month. We have three married children and five grandchildren, one being adopted and is as loved as all the others. (Two other of our children died in infancy.)

Recently we got a letter from Pasty dated June 14, 2000. She was in the hospital preparing for the beginning of dialysis. Jeannie and I were thrilled to hear from her, and both of us answered promptly. Zelma visited Patsy in the hospital (I think yesterday) and Patsy let her read our letters. Then Zelma called me today to tell me of Patsy’s death this morning. I wept As I write this, I still have tears in my eyes. Patsy was a good friend as well as a favorite cousin as we grew up.

Also, today is our own Abraham Maus Thrower’s birth date. He would be 22 years old today. He lived six months. That is another long story. We loved him dearly. He is with his brother Walter Andrew Thrower in the next life. I have seen them together in the Temple,–twice! So I know what work they are doing “on the other side.”

On this date twenty-four years ago, I gave our son Daniel Nephi Thrower his Name in Blessing at church in Canyon, Texas. He was born in Canyon on May 28th of that year. The day of the blessing was the bicentennial of our country. It was a very special day!

I think Daniel was 15 years old when he spent July 4th in Moscow, Russia just months after the fall of the Soviet Union. Daniel was there a Student Ambassador to the Soviet Union, which was Russia by the time his group got there. He was in Russia for three weeks. On the way over, his airplane stopped at Atlanta, Georgia. Former president Jimmy Carter boarded the plane heading for Washington, D.C. for the signing of the Nuclear Peace Treaty with our President Bush and President Yeltsin of Russia. Carter shook hands with everyone on Dan’s airplane. It was a thrill for Daniel. In Washington, D.C. Dan saw Yeltsin’s limousine going down the steet. A few days later in Moscow, he saw Yeltsin getting out of another limousine. Seeing the American Student Ambassadors across the street, he waved at them before going inside to his office at the Kremlin.

July 4th is a big day in my life, even if it weren’t our Independence Day.

I got sidetracked from writing about freedoms we can appreciate in this great country. I’ll not write any more about that right now, but the remainder of the day will be in memorium of all the above-mentioned events.

We have our flags flying outside.

In August 1939 Dad, Mother, Bobby, Jimmy and I all loaded aboard our Model A (T) and headed out on a nice, long vacation to Carlsbad Caverns and to the McDonald Observatory. We took some things to eat. I recall a whole wooden crate of green grapes, which we enjoyed very much. I recall our stopping at a roadside park in west Texas for the night. Everyone slept on the ground or on the picnic table. Except for me. I heard some coyotes howling and got scared, so I slept on the back seat of the car.

I recall being in White City. I think we spent the night there. The drive into the park itself was fascinating to me.

When we got to Carlsbad Caverns it was my fourth birthday. I recall looking down into the winding path into the mouth of the cavern. I looked at ground level, too. Across the way, on the lip of the crater was a solitary small tree. I recall walking down that path with a lot of people, with a park ranger in a brown uniform leading the way. I walked a long way into the cavern. Everything was just beautiful once we really got into the cave. The ranger explained about stalactites and stalagmites and how they were formed. Going around every bend in the path were new wonders. I was fascinated. Especially memorable was the “Rock of Ages.” At that point the ranger talked to us and said he was going to turn out the lights and we would be in total darkness. He suggested everyone sing the song, “Rock of Ages” so nobody would get scared. I was very favorably impressed, but the darkness was scary.

I could not walk very far at a time. I recall that Dad had to carry me most of the way down. I think it was three miles to the bottom. One thing I remember more than almost anything else was how badly I needed to go to the bathroom when we got to the bottom and how rellieved I was to find a toilet. We went through the “Big Room” at the bottom, and had lunch in a huge lunchroom with tables and benches. Lunch was a sandwich, an orange, some potato chips and some milk. After lunch Dad bought some postcards as souviners. There was only one way out: the same way we came in. Dad had to carry me all the way back up those three miles to the top. I know it must have been hard for him to do that.

Going through the cavern was one of the most impressive things I ever did in my whole life. I was enthralled with the beauty of it all. I recalled “The Bottomless Pit” and many other places down there.

As we drove out of the park, the road was quite winding, and was indellibly marked into my memory. I was just enchanted with it all. White City, the curio stores, and the river there all impressed me.

From Carlsbad we took a different route home, it seems that I recall going by Guadalupe Peak as we entered Texas. Did we swim at Balmorhea? It seems as though we did. Then down to Fort Davis and the scary drive up the winding dirt or gravel road to McDonald Observatory. We got to see one of the world’s largest telescopes, with its 100 inch lens, but didn’t get to look through it. For one thing, it was daytime. That visit to the observatory was very influential to my continuing love of and fascination for astronomy.

That trip was one of the most positive experiences of my entire life. I gained a great and lasting appreciation for the beauties of nature and especially for the American West.

Austin, Texas. I don’t know whether we lived in Austin or Waco, but this took place in Austin.

Dad took all of the family to the Capitol Building. We saw the Twin Sisters (cannons by the front steps to the building) that had been used in the Texas battle for independence. Inside we saw paintings. Pictures of former governors graced the walls in the rotunda on several different floors. On the center of the rotunda floor was a circle with a star in it, and other things.

We went up to the second floor, to the third, and up and up and up. It seems to me we went up stairs rather than riding an elevator from floor to floor. To look down from the bannisters made me dizzy and sick to my stomach. We went up as far as we could go. I don’t remember who all went up that far except for Dad and me. It seems that Mother was still with us up there, and maybe Jimmy and Bobby. Way up high was a circular metal staircase that went up to just below the red light at the top of the dome. That winding staircase was painted white. Dad carried me up that staircase to the very top. I was very frightened, but fascinated at what I saw below. I have chills on the back of my neck and a lurch in my stomach just thinking of it as I write this. The light was eerie, and was visible outside from a long way off.

When this was can be verified, for we were among the last people allowed to go up that circular staircase. Not long after that a man fell or jumped from up there, landing inside the circle on the rotunda floor that housed that inlaid star. His landing cracked the floor. I think I was not two years old yet, just one.

Waco, Texas. We lived at 2000 McFerrin. I was 7 years old.

It was common knowledge in our household that we had once lived in a house on 21st Street, just off of McFerrin. In our straying from home during play, it was no secret which house it was that we used to live in.

Out of curiosity I went there alone one day to visit whoever lived there. I was not welcome inside, but the lady spoke to me very briefly. It seems that I remember a small porch or just a few steps on the south side of the house, and that the house faced west. I was on the south side, and I was looking into the kitchen. I had a strange feeling that I remembered when I was younger that I had been inside that house and crawled to the kitchen door and looked out through a screened door.

There was what I call a “doorjamb” there, sort of an “arched” piece of unpainted wood about 1/2″ high the width of the door that stopped the screen door. The door was latched and I couldn’t open it. It seems that there was not much grass out that direction, but that the south yard was pretty big. I may be wrong in every detail, but that’s what I have in my memory, and have had since before the war. If this is correct, it is my earliest memory. I understand I was one year old when we moved from the house on 21st street.