Friday, July 8, 2011


compiled by IRIS CRUMP
JUNE, 1979

I recall my grandfather and grandmother Crump's home.  It was a humble home on the brow of the Spanish Fork Plateau, just west of Mapleton, Utah.  The house was made of adobe clay brick, which was molded from the clay in the clay beds there.  My mother, Rachel (Crump Phillips) and her brother Joseph John Crump moved the family into the granary and tore down the little one room adobe house.  Mother and Uncle Joe made all of the adobes and laid them up for their three room home.  The house was completed in one year.  They traded some of the building work with neighbors, who were more skilled in some types of building work. 

                I recall at the bottom of their garden, there were flowers along the fence and there was a garden of vegetables.  There were also a few chickens in a coop.  There was also, in a small slope on the house, a bin in which grandfather told me they kept the grain they gleaned from different farmers.  Inside the house, there were two small bedrooms and one large living-kitchen area. 

In grandmother's kitchen there was a big braided rug that had been made from scraps of anything she could get.  This gave the room a cozy, cheerful look.  Also, in the kitchen-living room against the wall on the south side, there was a table.  Nearby, was a low stove which had an ash pan which projected out of it.  Adjacent to the east wall was a tall cupboard for dishes and storage space.  There was a work space between the stove and the storage space. 

As a child, I was a climber up on chairs or anything I could lift myself onto, particularly if there was a jam jar or something I could taste by putting my finger into it.  On the top of grandmother's cupboard shelf, there was a brown earthen jar, the fruit bottle of that time, that usually contained either ground cherry or pottawatame plum jam.  These were some of the few fruits available in those days and it tasted delicious to me and to the people of that time.  One day I climbed onto a chair, reached for the jar and we both fell.  I hit the projection on the stove and cut my chin, but fortunately the jar didn't break, although we lost some of the contents.  This experience failed to cure my picking and tasting which has become a life-long habit. 

                The time I remember my grandmother best was when I was about four years old.  She always had on a long skirt that fit tight around the waist.  Her sleeves were long, regardless of the work she did.  In short, I recall grandmother as wearing the typical clothes of her day.  I do not recall seeing her in changes of styles of dresses, for her dress always seemed dark, but clean and tidy. 

Grandmother never scolded me;  she let me profit from my own experiences.  She always had a slice of bread for me.  She used to go out in the garden in the summer and work and cultivate her vegetables and flowers. 

She was a woman who loved her neighbors;  she deeply appreciated any kindness shown to her.  My grandmother was a kind, sincere and hard-working woman.  She was deeply religious and grateful for the Lord's blessings.  Records show that she did much baptismal work in the Manti Temple.  Grandmother was a kindly, soft-spoken lady.  Grandfather was a kindly man, also. 

They were very industrious.  They made butter which along with eggs were taken by my mother, Rachel, by foot to Springville to sell at the Haywood Store.  They were paid in cash so they could buy bits of cloth or other small necessities.

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