Written History of Bert N. Whitney

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Then there was that day when I was working underneath the dozer trying to replace a large pin in the lower end of the dozer blade arm that had come loose. How did I know it was loose? I was thinking of changing the oil sometime in the future, and I got curious where the drain plug was, and while I was hunting for the plug, I noticed that major pin hanging loose. The next day I brought tools to try to put the pin back in and got it in part way after working several hours. I got in my truck and reached for the key, which I always lay on the passenger seat, and there were no keys there. It was not just the truck keys, but also all the keys which go to the mountain property locks and my trailer, so I was quite concerned. I turned the truck inside out, shaking everything, etc. I finally decided that I had put them in my pocket and that they had come out while I was working under the dozer, so I sifted through the soft dirt and looked all around the area with no results. Well, because of another experience I had had, I carry a key to my cars in my wallet, so I fished it out and started home. But when I was turning around I was impressed to pick up a glove, which I had shaken and searched around several times before and this time the keys came tumbling out. I gave thanks.

A few days ago I reached in my table drawer for my checkbook, which I always keep there, and it was nowhere to be found. I remembered the last check I wrote (to a real estate agent a few days before), so after searching all the possible places I thought the book might have ended up, I figured it must have just disappeared, like the truck keys. I E-mailed the real estate agent to see if it might have gotten sandwiched in between some of those many papers we were working with on the table. All this time I kept wondering if it were in the door pocket of the truck, but that was unreasonable because I had no occasion to have it in my truck, but I did look in my car door pocket. Nothing. I knew I was just remembering carrying the checkbook in the truck door pocket on those many trips to the mountain, but just to erase that image in my mind I finally checked and there it was! I remembered one possible reason I could have put it there, but I don’t recall actually doing it. Anyway, I gave thanks. Don’t any off you dare laugh–some day you will get to be old. I hope you can depend on the kind of help I get with my challenges.

Feb. 2006  Glimpses January was full of fun and adventures! While the lake is down I wanted to go look around at the place Grandpa Cal Nay was killed while digging a well. Vernon Bunker had pointed out the location to me from on top of the Mesa while he was still alive. It was under water at that time. My neighbor, Jack, agreed to go with me, and so we made our way across the mesa, down the Virgin River to about the right location. But the road ended, unless we forged the rushing waters of the river. We had Jack’s four-wheeler in the back of the pickup and he agreed to test the waters with it. It was deeper and swifter than we expected, but he did make it across, after going through water up to his seat and nearly getting washed downstream. We thought it would be wise not to try with my truck, but Jack had lost his nerve (that’s a first for him), and he didn’t dare come back across. We talked about me going around to Fisherman’s Cove and picking him up, but that was too far to be practical. I had decided I would just have to drive across in the pickup, but there was a huge boulder in the water right in the way. I lassoed it with a chain and I moved it several times with the truck but not enough to get it out of the way. By this time Jack had worked up his nerve and said he would try coming back across. It still took him a long time to actually try it. We rigged a chain from the truck, and he had one on the four wheeler, so if he got swamped we would connect the chains and pull him out. When he finally plunged into the water his super driving skills not only got him across the river, but he came up the slippery bank and kept going top speed past the pickup and up the road a ways before he slowed down. I asked him if his throttle was stuck; he said “no” he was just so hyper he couldn’t let up.

You would think that would be enough excitement for one day, but we still had to find a way out of the draw we were in. We got down there by sliding down a steep gravel bank which we were sure we couldn’t go back up, but weren’t worried because we could see several roads in the draw, and we were sure at least one would lead out. While searching for a way out, we came upon a large corral made of pipe and there was a cow on the ground next to it, with her head stuck between two of the bars, which probably happened while she was reaching in for a little hay that was on the ground inside. She looked in bad shape, so we were going to try to help her by twisting her head into the position that would fit through the pipes. Jack went into the corral and I was still about a hundred feet away. As Jack approached the cow, she got so frightened she thrashed around violently and accidentally lined up her head in the right position to free herself. She seemed to want to get revenge for her misery, and I was the only available creature to take her anger out on. She took off on a fast gallop directly toward me, her head down and her eyes blazing with madness. I remembered some things I had learned about animals, so I stood my ground, waved my arms above my head and shouted loud cowboy noises at her, and when she was about ten feet away, she blinked and turned to one side and ran into the brush. Why would anyone ever go to the theme parks for excitement when it exists all around us.

We never did find another way out of the draw, so we put my faithful pickup to the test, and he passed, taking us up that steep gravel hill we had come down. We went back the next day to look for another way in to the site I wanted to find, but the thick tamarisk held us back. I felt we were close, but never right to the spot.

July 2005 Glimpses

This Edition of “Glimpses” is dedicated to the memory of Rachel Mary Stubbs McTeer, born December 14, 1975 in Provo, Utah, and was killed in a highway accident June 18, 2005 in Salt Lake City, Utah, as she was returning from a visit with her cousin Jennifer Goodman in Dayton, Nevada.

Aug 2005   Glimpses What a month; temperatures got up to 122 degrees in my carport for about 10 days straight. My 20 year-old air conditioners weren’t keeping my house too cool although I wasn’t really suffering. Today, while I was at the temple, Glen Rawson, the local air conditioning man, came and put two brand-new units on my house. They were just finishing up when I got home, and told me Ken had ordered them and they were not to take any money from me for their work, nor tell me how much the bill was. Talk about Christmas in July, WOW! Now here I am in a cool room, working on the family paper using a brand new Dell computer; what a life!

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