3: Introduction continued

When a very small boy my mother took my sister Bertha’s son, Leo Carter, to raise as Bertha had lost her husband, Benjamin Carter, in death when Leo was two years old. We were then raised together for several years. What fun times we had together, I had not had a close brother. My brother Will was seven years older than I. We would sleigh ride down the hill on the crusted snow in the late winter time, then when spring was starting we would tromp the hills to find the first sugar flowers and buttercups and snow drops. Mother had a tin spoon that both of us liked to eat with, and we would quarrel over it, who was going to eat with, the tinun, as we called it. One day my brother Heber said he was going to end that so he took the spoon and bent it up and threw it in the trash. What a tragedy that was. We played threshing machine with our little red wagons, threshing sand, and did many pleasant things together. In later years he married my wife Lona’s sister Mae. So he is now my nephew and my brother-in-law. We have been very close over the years. They moved to California to live and we have made many trips there, almost every year, to see them. We have had some treat times together. They now live in Richfield Utah, this being march 1978.

In 1908 when the Porterville chapel was dedicated by President Joseph F. Smith, President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I was present, being a little over 5 years old. President Smith stood by the door at the close of the meeting and shook hands with all the primary children. The impression and thrill of shaking hands with a Prophet of God has stayed with me all during my life. I have shaken hands with every Prophet President of the church since that time, Spencer W. Kimball is President at this time, 1978. Our birthdays are the same day, 28 March. He is eight years my senior.

In 1919 the boys came home from the war. Will and I worked at home and for our brother –in-law, Frank Porter, until the beets were (sugar beets) harvested, then he and I went to Ogden to work in the sugar factory all winter. It was a cold, nasty winter. Our room had an inch of frost on the walls all winter. I had a joyous time there going to dances and shows. Will was conservative, he was saving money to get married, I spent mine. Will was married in June 1920. That summer I went to Snyderville and helped Mr. Jim Dahl in the hay. It was a hard summer, he was somewhat of a Simon Lagree, and he had a couple of boys that were miserable to work with. In the fall of 1920 I went to work at “the arsenal” near Ogden, they, the government, was building great powder storage magazines. This is now Hill Air Force Base. The winter was cold and windy. The work was hard, pushing wheel barrels full of concrete up schaffolding 20 feet high. I was only 17 years old but was very used to work. (Work has been my whole life, I never learned to play anything except a little base ball). I stood this work quite a while until one morning we were walking up the hill to work, the wind and snow howling around us. Me and another fellow said that was enough, so we went back to the shack and quit. From there I went to Salt Lake. Father and Mother had gone to Salt Lake for the winter to do research work, they were living on 7^th south near West Temple. I stayed with them all winter.

2: Introduction continued

My mother was one of the best cooks of all time. And a good manager too, she had to be with such a large family and small home. I can never remember a time when there was not food a plenty and some to share for the neighbors children who were always dropping in, to, Aunt Sarah’s as she was called. There was always a crowd in our home, of good jolly people. Mother worked continually in the primary and Relief Society. When I was right young she would hook old Nig. to the buggy and we would be off to Primary, that was before I started school. There was never a fast meeting passed without her standing and bearing testimony to the truthfulness of the gospel and thanking the Lord for his goodness to her and her family. She lived her whole life for her family and taught them all the principles of the gospel. Which some of us have failed to live up to fully.

I will remember November 11, 1918 when the Armistice was signed ending World War #1, how happy father and mother were (along with everyone else) that their boys had been spared and would now return. Had the War kept up another year I would have gone in myself. Though young I was as large in stature as I have ever been in my lifetime. At 15 years I was 5’ 11” tall and weighed 145 pounds. I was head and shoulders above anyone of my age. This abnormal height made me very self conscious and bashful. (I have over come this a little by now) I wasn’t much in a crowd but when the girls got me alone “You’d be surprised”. However I always got along pretty good at a dance and ere I was 18 years old I would rather dance than eat, and many times did.

In June 1917 my father bought a modle T Ford. At that time there were very few cars on the road (and in fact no roads) We really thought we were somebody.

I should go back here a ways and say that when I was 5 years old my father was called on a mission to England, his homeland. My oldest brother Heber, who had been away working, came home to run the farm. And he, with my other brother Will who was 12 years old, made the living for the family and enough besides to keep father in the mission field. It was a great sacrifice for my mother. But then she had done this before when she had only three small children. Now she was the mother of 12, I being the youngest. Three had died young. I well remember the night that father left. Mother and I had been to Salt Lake with him and as the train went East on the Union Pacific we got off at Morgan and he stayed on. My brother Heber was there to meet us in a big heavy wagon, and it took us most of the night to reach home six miles away. The roads were hub deep in mud and we kept getting stuck.

When we bought the Model T Ford, only my brother Will learned to drive it, one day later on my father said to me “son come with me, we are going to learn to drive this contraption if it’s the last thing we do” so away we went. I was afraid at times that it was going to be the last thing we would do on earth, at one time it headed for a barb wire fence and instead of applying the brake father hollered “Whoa” “Whoa” as he would to his horses, but the Ford didn’t stop. Luckily one of the wires caught the radiator cap and killed the engine, so we got out and cranked the engine, got it started again, backed onto the road and away we went again. From that day we both knew what to do and what not to do in driving a car.

Work on the farm was always hard, I always had the job of tromping hay while two pitched it on. Sometimes would get completely buried in the hay, but when we got back to the barn mother would be there with a jug of lemonade to refresh us. When real young it was my job to ride the horse to cultivate acres of potatoes. About the only cash crop father raised. He kept us all fed on 30 acres of ground. However he was a share holder in a threshing machine company, and got some grain for flower to make bread. They would thresh for everyone in the community. Each would help each other. Six teams of horses furnished the power going around and around all day long tied to big sweep stakes. Uncle Hyrum Phillips was a large man and he sat in the center of the horses and knew just how to keep them going steady so the power and speed of the thrasher would be steady. When I was little I thought it was great if I could be around the machine and get a little dust on my hat. When about 15 I followed the machine each fall and became so good at knowing just how to fork the bundles of grain from the stack to the feeders table, so the feeder could feed the machine evenly, that they always gave me that job. One thing I liked about threshing was the great meals we would get. Breakfast, dinner and supper. Sometimes we would sleep in the straw stack if we were too far from home, as we would have to be up early.

Grandpa Durrant's Journals

I have decided to set a goal for myself. I want to get Grandpa's journals typed and available to my family. It is important for everyone to have access to them. I will be putting them also into a Word document so if anyone ever wants a copy I will be able to e-mail them.

I would appreciate any input on how to make this easy to read. I think I will number each entry I make and then put a date if there is one. The first few pages of the book aren't dated, but just a starting history which he began on February 25, 1952. I hope this is something that my family is interested in, but if nothing else I am excited to see what these precious pages hold. Enjoy!

1: February 25, 1952 (Introduction)

Life History of Kenneth Norwood Durrant.

Son of Lorenzo Heber Durrant and Sarah Jane Norwood. Born at Porterville, Morgan Co, Utah on the 28^th day of March 1903. This record being commenced Feb. 25, 1952 at Heber City Utah. Having lived almost 49 years and knowing that my life must be at least half over I feel that I should put in writing, for future generations, a few of the things that have happened in my life. I suppose one of the things that has inspired me to do this more than anything else is the fact that when my father died on 29 of June 1951 all of his records fell into my hands, and the things that he told about himself were the things that I enjoyed the most, and were of the most worth to me. I found there no record of his life, as I intend to make here, but just little sketches in notebooks and on pieces of paper. And I have hungered for a more complete record of his, and my mothers, lives. They were so full and accomplished so much more than I will ever have to tell here but I feel that what little I have should be preserved. There will be no fancy words used here because my education has been very limited.

I remember as a young boy of six years I started school in Porterville and had to walk a little over a mile night and morning 7 years of what constituted most of my schooling. While I was in the 7^th grade World War #1 came along with its many trials. I was forced to stop school and help my father on the farm. My two brothers, Heber Lorenzo and Richard William, having both enlisted in the service of their country. Heber in the Army and Will in the Navy. Then in 1918 “The Flu” epidemic as it was called, came and there wasn’t any school held for quite some time. By this time I thought I was too old to go to school, except for two months I spent in Morgan High School prior to my contracting the flu. I have been sorry all my life for this lack of education, but I have only myself to blame. Had I had more ambition for an education I would have gotten it.

I was the youngest of 12 children my father and mother had. Three died in infancy. Those whom I know in life in their order were Heber, Bertha, Emma, Elizabeth, Amy, Ida, William, Adelphia.

I have many pleasant memories of my childhood days on the farm. Coasting down the hills and skating in the wintertime. And picking flowers and wandering over the hills in the summer time. From the time I was 8 years old until I was 14 I had the chore (along with other things) of hunting the cows in the hills each night which took me some two hours. Had about 8 or 10 miles to go. We lived about 6 miles from a store and food was stored up for almost a year in advance. Father and mother wouldn’t go to town very often. The only means of transportation was a big heavy wagon. It would take a big long day to make the trip. Sometimes when they went they would bring us home some bananas or oranges or maybe a piece of candy. The kerosene can would have a green gumdrop on the spot to keep it from spilling and we would draw lots to see which one got it. There were no electric lights, only the old kerosene lamp. Our home consisted of three rooms made of logs. Then when I was about 8 years old my father built two more rooms on which was of frame construction. Some of us slept up in the hay loft in the summer time.