Gosh this bunch sounds old

This is just what this list needed, a invigorating reason to roll out
the old tales, tell em tall, tell em true and laugh around the fire.
Thanks Susan, I am glad you are here.

Dave, we all sound really old, AND WE ARE NOT OLD.

Most of us on here are what? 40's to 50's plus Dave, who I believe
can see 60 from his front porch. Working horses, wringer machines,
uphill to school.... both ways.... Yup, me too. And since I was a kid
at Castle Valley, I would do it all over again and I wish my kid
could have just a taste of the freedom we had out there.

Ok, my turn.

The Philpott's arrived at Castle Valley Institute the summer of 1970.
I was starting 3rd grade. My two older brothers, Kelvin and Brian
were also in grammar school and the family moved to Utah from New
Mexico where we had been a staff family at La Vida Mission on the
edge of the Navajo Reservation. My dad, Edward Allen Philpott was a
mechanic at CVI plus so much more. Marjorie (Sister Philpott) was in
turns elementary teacher, English teacher, home mother to 7-8 academy
boys and a pretty fair cook.

Brother Philpott (someday someone should explain to me why we were
all acting like and Amish cult) who responds to Ed, Edward, Al,
Allen, Alan and Phil operated on trucks and machinery in the shop,
did town trips as far as Salt Lake and San Bernadino searching for
discounted merchandise, dent can food and just about anything needed
to build a campus on virgin red dirt. He was also involved with
details of the mile long irrigation pipe that ended at the first
Valley walking pivot that covered 100 acres of wheat. He and my
brothers also dealt with the combine for wheat and the storage
graineries. That whole program led into cleaning our own wheat and of
course grinding our own flour on a big electric dual stone wheat
mill. I was never big enough to drive the combine alone, I felt left
out.

But I was just a kid. What was it like for a kid.

We lived in the old log cabin above the second pond. In 1970 it was
in need of some love. Floor coming up, ceiling coming down, almost
had to duck in the middle. That first summer, we lived in a single
wide trailer and often slept on old army cots on the edge of a hay
field rather then in the stuffy old trailer. Dad was working on the
cabin and we moved in that autumn. the house had a tiny kitchen, a
screened in back porch and a mountain of junk out back left behind by
previous tenents. Gradually the home was expanded, new kitchen added,
enclosed the back porch, added another bathroom, outside entrance,
and it was done.

I remember digging stumps out of the yard. Back then, all labor was
free labor, it was only later that I learned of the concept of stump
digging as discipline. Digging stumps, hauling junk out of the brush
to be burned, building a stacked log fence, installing a lawn front
and back, those are my memories. Later Dad proved he was a bit of a
rebel to all things totally vegan and we added a coop and chicken run
for the finest eggs I have ever had. As a kid it was just the best
place in the world to grow up. We had school classes before lunch and
chores and garden work after lunch with plenty of time for swimming
in the late afternoon. Of course we complained about weeding rows of
carrots and peas and tomatoes and eggplant, but we did it. Everybody
had to work. In the early years I was jelous of the older kids who
were allowed to join the "work crews" and do campus work supervised
by some one other then Mom or Dad.

I remember being involved in various water experiements. My memory
says it was either Richard Lettman or Jordan Dicken who needed to
know if a person could swallow water "up hill". I was suspended by my
feet over an irrigation ditch and dunked in with order to drink and
see if I could swallow. Yes you can. I was also involved in
experiements testing to see how long a 7-8 year old could hold his
breath under water during swimming sessions in the pond. Answer,
longer then you think. I suspect that us "staff brats" were a royal
pain the rump to the high school kids. I am sure of it.

I remember riding and steering one of the "work horses" between rows
of peas while "Brother Seibert" trotted behind with the cultivator.
The horse, without steering would always step on the plants. I
remember when the group worships were held in a living room and
everyone could fit in the room. I remember when the chapel was under
construction and one of the galvanized steel trusses fell over and
just about planted one of the academy boys. Who was it Dave?

Enough, enough, I have many memories more then I shall touch on tonight.

craig