Idaho Memories

Autumn in Almo, Idaho is a beautiful time of  the year. Warm days, cool nights and  on a clear night, the moon and stars all shined like diamonds. No city lights out there. In this beautiful setting, I made my entrance into the world. Mother delivered all her babies at home with the exception of her last child, and she was born in a hospital. My birth was attended by my Grandmother Alice Rice and some of my aunts. I am the eighth child out of ten and with the exception of two little sisters who died as infants, we have all lived to be young seniors.

We lived on a ranch nestled in the mountains where there was a large rock formation called the Castle Rocks not too far from Grandmother's ranch. She lived just west of us and we spent many happy hours there as well as at home. There were several apple trees near the Rocks and Mother would send us there to gather some apples.We did so with some trepidation as the Rocks were home to large cats, Cougars or sometimes called Mountain Lions. One of us kept a look out for a big cat but don't know how we thought we could escape, they could run faster and climb a tree faster. We were never confronted by one thankfully, but we did run into a Bobcat now and then.

Grandmother Alice Rice

Grandmother Rice lived a life of hardship but one of great faith in her Heavenly Father and her beloved Savior Jesus Christ. She was blessed with the gift of tongues and would sometimes speak in them when she bore her testimony. I would ask Mom why she was talking that way and Mom always expressed reverence for her and told us she was given a gift. She had many awe inspiring experiences. The homes at that time were mostly log cabins and the windows didn't have screens on  them. One afternoon one of her babies was sleeping in the bedroom when Grandmother heard a noise coming from the room. She rushed in to find a Cougar half way through the window. She beat it back out of the room with a shoe. 

Grandmother, like many Pioneer women learned how to shoot a rifle to protect their families. She was a crack shot. Her daughter Ida was a beautiful little girl with long dark hair and dark eyes and white skin.  The Indians were intrigued with her and  believed she was a special spirit because of her coloring. She was in danger of being kidnapped. Early one evening an Indian crept into the yard where the children were playing with the intent of kidnapping her. He tried to grab her but she started kicking and screaming and her siblings tried to pull her away.  Grandmother grabbed her rifle and ran out to where the children were. All she had to do was raise the rifle and take aim, and the Indian was gone. They knew from experience what she aimed at, she hit. She had many amazing life experiences and was truly a remarkable woman.

IDA LILY TRACY RICE

Ida Lily (Mom)  was the ninth child out of thirteen children born to David Tracy and Rebecca Harriet Taylor. Mom was born and raised in Yost, Utah and spent time working in her father's mercantile store and helping her brothers and sisters with the household duties. She never wrote her history, so I really don't know much about her early life.  One member of her family wrote a brief description of her and said she had a temper (I can attest to that)and one of her brothers received a table fork in his scalp for teasing her.

After Mom and Dad were married, they lived in Yost for several  years where my five older siblings were born. The last five children were born in Almo, Idaho. While living inYost, Mom drove a car to  go to where ever they needed to go. One day with her children in the car she was heading down a hill when the brakes failed. The children thought it was fun going so fast and they were cheering. Mom was able to  stop the car safely, but she never drove a car again.
The family moved to Almo, Idaho and bought land just a few miles east of my Grandmother Rice's ranch.  We were very close with  my dad's family, they were wonderful, happy, loving people. Dad was away much of the time herding sheep, and so a lot of the child rearing was  left to Mom. Mother was a no nonsense mom and any whining, unnecessary crying or tattling was not tolerated. She did have a temper and my sisters and I were on the receiving end of a willow switch when  we disobeyed. We deserved it. My parents raised their food and animals and we all had chores to do, mainly helping with the livestock and working in the garden. The garden was especially  large and Mom canned many fruits and vegetable to eat during the winter.  I remember the corn field seemed to go  on forever.  We were told to stay out of it.  We couldn't resist playing in it when the corn grew tall.  We played hide and seek and ran up and down the rows. Mom would always catch us and we couldn't figure out how she knew because the corn was way over our heads,didn't realize the corn swayed back and forth as we ran through it.
We never missed Church unless we were ill. It was probably well over a mile and because mom didn't drive, we walked and walked. Mom would carry the youngest for most of the way. Very often one of  our neighbors would stop  and give  us a ride, don't know how all  of us fit in the cars. Dad was away at his sheep camp a lot of the time, so we walked.  When we entered the Chapel for Sacrament meeting we did not leave until it was time to go home. While in the meetings we were quiet and reverent. When  we became teenagers Mom relented a little and let us sit in the back with our friends with the stipulation we behaved. Of course we did not. When it became pure pandemonium, one of our mothers, usually mine, would come back  and sit right  in the middle  of us. We were slow learners but when Mom turned around it was dead silent.
One of mom's most admirable traits was her trust and total lack of fear and I mean total. If any of you have ever witnessed a very angry bull pawing the  ground and bellowing loudly, you knew to give that animal a very wide berth. We children would head for the nearest barbed wire fence to put a little  space between us and  the angry bull,  not Mom she walked right past it and went on down the road.  The animals never charged her as far as I can remember anyway. When my parents moved to  Logan, Utah (the ranch became too much for them to take care of) I would go up to visit them as much as possible. There was a little grocery store on  the corner where they went occasionally.  Between their apartment and the store was a neighbor's house with a large, mean dog. Dad and I crossed the street to the other side and got ready to run if the dog appeared.  Mom stayed on the same side as the dog and when he saw us, he would bark and snarl probably at Dad and I as Mom ignored him. He never tried  to attack her, Dad and I took no chances.
Mom died when  she was only   63 years old. She had sarcome (cancer  of the bone) and lived with it two  long excruciating years. The doctors spaced  out meds, they  were worried about addiction, which  meant she was in pain most of the time. We watched helplessly as she  died an inch at a time.  I am very fortunate to have had two such outstanding parents.

WILLIAM more Stories

My parents were humble, righteous, 'Salt of the earth' people who loved the LORD and their families. They were strong pioneers and believed in being the best they could be.

Dad served in the military and fought in World War I. The only thing I can remember him saying about his time in the service, was that he was on a ship headed to  France when the Armistice was signed and the ship turned around and headed back home.  He was disappointed because he really wanted to  see parts of Europe.
One day Dad asked my sisters and me to help him set some fence posts in cement, as he was either building or repairing a fence.  We were goofing off in the house and forgot about the fence. An hour later, we remembered and raced out to the field where he was working. We thought for sure this time he would be angry with us.  When we reached him we apologized profusely. He wasn't angry, in fact I never saw my father get angry, never.  He had found some large rocks to brace the posts until the cement hardened. Dad believed life was too short to waste on anger.

Dad needed to sell  our livestock and so we never killed any of them for  food with the exception of our chickens. Mother killed one each Sunday, she was a very strong woman- none of us was willing to do that. We killed a deer for venison each fall for our meat. In Idaho at the time to go on a deer hunt you needed to put your name (age 16 or over) in the draw.  Dad put in his, mom's, and my name each year. My name was drawn two years in a row.  You can imagine how happy a sixteen year old was to get up in the middle of the night, tromp through snow in freezing cold and wait for sun up to find the deer. I didn't complain, not out loud anyway, as my Aunt Jane was always with me. She was like all my dad's siblings, always telling funny stories, always laughing. I loved being with her. Dad would  dig us a small snow cave and with our hot chocolate and laughter the time passed quickly.  Now I had to learn to shoot a 22 rifle and so Dad and I practiced shooting at fence posts. I was finally able to at least hit the target somewhat respectable.  While I was willing to hold the rifle, there was no way I was willing to draw a bead on any living thing. Dad shot our deer and immediately handed me the rifle, just in case a Game Warden was near by.  My cousin Thales (we were the same age and he also had the permit) wanted to shoot his own deer. He was Aunt Jane's son and it was o.k. with her. He wanted to use a 30.06 rifle and both my Dad and Uncle Wesley told him it was too powerful and had a mean kick.  They said the 22 rifle was plenty of firepower. He didn't listen and when he pulled the trigger, it knocked him on his  behind.  As soon as we knew he was o.k. I laughed and told him you should listen to your elders, then Aunt Jane and I laughed some more; it was the look on his  face.

Dad was a good hunter and an excellent fisherman. He could catch the  fish with his bare hands, there is an art to it.  We spent many hours with him and Mom fishing. Mom didn't fish but read while we walked up and down the streams looking for a good fishing hole, mostly we just caught a good sunburn. We all learned to love being in the great outdoors.

WILLIAM H. RICE (DAD)

William Hyrum Rice (Dad) was born July 23. 1891 in Naf, Idaho. He was the  oldest child of Nathaniel Able and Alice Jane Rice. Dad was only 13 years of age when his father died due to  being struck by the hoof of a horse that reared just as Grandpa was leading him through a gate.  Dad was immediately thrust into adulthood. He took over most of the ranching duties and soon left home  to herd sheep  to help  my Grandma pay the taxes on the ranch. Dad continued the occupation of a sheep herder for most of my early childhood, and returned home  for the final  time when he became the bus driver for the Almo Elementary School.  I remember  going to his sheep camp a couple of times when  I was still quite young. I thought it was a fun place. He lived in a type of covered wagon  only sturdier, with a stove in it to cook his meals. We children played with the dogs, chased the little lambs until the mother Ewes chased us and just had a fun time. I had no idea how lonely his life must have been, being isolated for weeks at a time.
Dad and his faithful dogs (I think there was more than one) had to spend many a night fighting off coyotes, cougars, and an occasional  bear. When dad came home to see us, he always traveled at night. He would tell us stories of some of his more harrowing trips.  He said he could always tell when a mountain lion (cougar) was following him by the way his horse was acting. One time a cougar got close enough that dad could see his eyes glowing in the dark. It spooked his horse and dad had to calm the horse long enough for him to fire a shot into the air to scare away the big cat. Mountain lions never scared dad, but bears were a different story.  He always had his rifle with him for protection.
Dad was the most friendly, happy person I have ever known. He was so friendly that no matter where he went to  buy something, he was on a first name basis immediately. Dad  believed everyone was inherently decent and when we pointed out that some people are just plain evil, his response was always the same, they were good people who just got a 'bum rap' in life. My brothers could never convince him that some of our neighbors would purposely pay less for dad's livestock when he sold them. He insisted they thought it was an honest offer at the time.
One morning a sheriff came to our ranch with a picture of an escaped convict and asked my dad if he had seen this man. Dad said "yes, he was here last night and we gave him something  to eat and told him he could sleep in the barn".  The sheriff was dumbfounded and said "you don't want to be taking in strangers, that is a dangerous man". Dad and Mom always fed someone who was hungry, even if it meant we ate less, besides, he thought that fellow was pleasant  enough.  It clearly frustrated the sheriff and he warned my parents, "if you see him again, you lock your doors and windows. We never had a lock on  any door nor  on any windows.  We didn't see him again, but there was no doubt he would be given food if we had seen him.  The convict was caught hiding in the City of Rocks, which is now a state or national park. I was a teenager at the time, and some friends and I had been climbing the 'rocks' the night before he, the convict, was caught.  We children were not afraid  of strangers because our parents were not. When the ranch became too much for my parents, they moved to Logan, Utah to care for some apartments my brother and sister-in-law owned. They were directly across the street from the Logan Temple, we could sit out front and marvel at the Temple. My parents didn't lock their doors in Logan either until we insisted on  it.

RICE FAMILY PICTURE (beginning of blogs)

The header picture is a picture of my Father, William Hyrum Rice, my Mother, Ida  Lily Tracy Rice and my oldest sibling my sister Audrey Rice Olsen.

REBECCA HARRIS

Rebecca was born in Nauvoo, Illinois to Emer Harris and Polly Chamberlain. Rebecca was just 3 years old when her mother Polly died and she came across the plains with her father and grandfather, Soloman Chamberlain. Rebecca had to walk part of the way and helped the Saints gather 'buffalo chips' to build the fires when they stopped to set up camp. The family moved to Provo, Utah living in very primitive conditions. They pretty much lived in a dugout with a fireplace but no windows. They slept in the wagons. When someone got a fire started, others would come and get some of the coals to start their fires, as starting fires was not always easy.
One of the hardships Rebecca endured was having to go barefoot a lot as she didn't have shoes. She left a bloody trail, especially in the snow from her battered feet. One day a neighbor boy was playing with and old discarded shotgun and told Rebecca he was going to shoot a cat. Rebecca grabbed the gun and it went off setting the wagon on fire. The neighbors all chipped in to help them build a cabin. One day Rebecca was alone in the cabin, she was about eight years old, when an Indian came into the cabin looking for food. She chased him out with a broom. He left as he was a friendly Indian.
The indians began to war among themselves and the Saints were ordered to move. They crossed the Provo River on a wooden plank bridge. Rebecca slipped off the bridge and fell into the water. A man holding a baby reached down and caught her hair then lifted her back upon the bridge. She held onto his coattail the rest of the way. The family then settled in Springville, Utah. Rebecca worked for a lady when she was quite young and the lady lived in the canyon. One day while walking there she heard a noise in the bushes, she turned and ran home. Later some of the men killed a black bear in that area.
Rebecca died at Lakepoint, Tooele, Utah at the age of 84.