Alice Albertie Griffeth Griffiths

            Well, as the Griffeth family organization is trying to get the life story of all of us, I suppose it’s high time that I get busy and jot down a few things.

            My life has been so unimportant; what shall I write?

            I am the eighth child, next to the youngest of George Andrew Griffeth and Mary Elizabeth Thurman.  Father was born at Springfield, Illinois, January 5, 1849.  Mother was born at Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, England, April 8, 1850.  I was born at Grandmother Perke’s home at Hyde Park, Utah, November 3, 1886.  The old house is still standing somewhat changed (March 13, 1949).

            I was the next to largest baby Mother had.  I think I weighed about ten pounds.  Mother was sick for some time before my birth, finally having to be taken from Fairview, Idaho to Hyde Park, Utah, in a bed, in a covered wagon so that she would be where she could be taken care of by Sister Lucy Wold—I mean that Sister Wolf was the doctor or midwife as those capable women were called.  And I guess Mother was still sick when she found out that I was a girl for she wanted a boy who would have been named James Perkes for her step-father whom she loved very much, and who was the only one who noticed what time it was when I arrived in the early morning.  I’m sorry that she was disappointed, but I have always been glad that I was a girl.

            They tell me that I was a large, pale, serious baby-with a lot of brown curly hair.  In one of Mother’s poems she mentioned her baby “with her shining curls”.  As I grew older my hair became very thick and long so that strangers sometimes noticed and spoke about my heavy, long braids, to my discomfort, for I was very shy and didn’t like to draw attention.  Sometimes I would stand by a wall if there were a stranger present who might notice my hair.

            This was my only mark of beauty though; for my forehead is low, my eyes green—though!  Mother was kind enough to call them pretty hazel eyes that matched my chestnut brown hair.  My nose and mouth are large and my chin short.  My face is rather small for my body, which has always been inclined stout—to my sorrow.  I am five feet five inches tall and weigh from 135 to 140 pounds, dropping to 128 at marriage.

            When a baby I had weak lungs with several spells of pneumonia.  That is why I was blessed at home by my grandfather Patison D. Griffeth, December 19, 1886 and was not blessed in Fast Meeting until August 4, 1887 by James Dodily.  Both blessings were given at Fairview Idaho.  I remember I had to wear a little woolen shirt summer and winter until after I was baptized November 3, 1894, by my father, Andrew Griffeth, in the Fairview-Lewiston canal.  I was confirmed by Henry Bronson.

            I was very nervous and a poor eater when a small child, inclined billious.  It was very hard for me to attend school.  It seemed that I could not keep well enough to go regularly.  As I grew older, I became stronger and having babies really gave me good health.  My only trouble now is lame back occasionally.  This winter while Burdette has been working in Salt Lake City I have insisted on helping Delmon milk and I have enjoyed it.  Maybe it is the good barn with electric lights in it that makes me feel young and want to milk.  Anyway, I appreciate my good health and zest in life.

            Quida laughs about the way I play with Aundrea.  She says that she thinks I have done everything but keel over and she expects me to do that.

            I enjoy my five grandchildren immensly, or would do if their parents just wouldn’t say I spoil them.

            Well, back to my childhood.  I attended school at first in a little old log house, about a mile from Father’s homestead in Fairview, Idaho.  I’m not sure but I believe my first teacher was a Mr. Jenson from Weston, Idaho, an old man with a gray beard.  When a class recited we went to the front and sat on a long seat which was nothing but a slab of wood with wooden pegs, driven up through holes in the end of the slab for legs.  When we little ones recited well, Mr. Jenson would lay a piece of peppermint candy on the page and close the reader.  I surely felt proud when I could take a piece of candy home to share with my little sister, Azuba.

            Several times during the day two children would go down to Walter Rawlings’ place, a distance of about a quarter of a mile, for a bucket of water, then it would be passed around and all would drink from the same cup

            When I was fifteen, I started to attend school at the Oneida Stake Academy at Preston, Idaho, taking 6^th grade.  I attended school at the Academy for sic years, taught school for one year at Fairview then went back to graduate from 4^th year normal.  That was the first year that the fourth-year work had been given in the O.S. A.  We had been called graduates with only three years’ work up to that time.  In that first fourth-year class were Perry Howel, Willard and Lewis Nuffer, Allabell Weaver and myself.

            After graduating I taught one year at Dayton, Idaho and another year at Fairview, two at Winder, one at Preston east side, called Egypt and two at Treasureton.

            At Treasureton I had some pupils by the name of Griffiths.  Their mother died June 2, 1915 after I first went there. I became acquainted with their father, Frederick Griffiths before the two years were over.  Here I should like to insert a bit from my sister Azuba’s diary.  We were both teaching school at Fairview, living in a little two-roomed house which had been the first school house in which I taught.  We had with us Leonard Erickson a boy who lived with father, my sister’s daughters Eleanor and Zola Bodily, and my brother’s children, Lillian and Thurman Griffeth.  After the children would go to bed we sometimes would engage in nonsensical talk, when we were tired of reading.  After one of those nights, Azuba wrote: “February 16, 1911- Thursday.  Inside of ten years I will be married and living on a farm somewhere in this valley.  My husband will be awkward and ugly but good."” Thus as we sat by the little old stove, at our boarding room, enjoying its warmth and ruddy glow, Albertie reveled her future to me.  “Has she spoken truthfully?"  And at Treasureton, Kate Fjlstead, the other teacher wanted to tell my fortune with cards so this is what I wrote in my diary:  “November 13, 19134.  Kate told my fortune.  “You have lots of friends.  A light complexioned man is very much interested in you but you are not looking his way.  You are going to marry a farmer of middling complexion.  Will be married within 32 years.  Will be very happy.  He will not be bossy but will hold you in chick”.  Years before that, at a Mutual party, a made-up gypsy, Lucy Bodily Kent, had told me that I would marry a farmer of middling size and complexion and that I would have five children.

            Well, Mr. Griffith was a farmer, five feet, six inches tall, weighing about 160 pounds.  He had dark blue eye4s and dark brown hair.  Of course, you know what I’m leading up to—“There’s my man.”

            I had no idea of it at first, however.  He was so different to some older men I had met.  I did not have a thought that he was looking for another wife- and especially looking my way.  Other people were talking about it while I was perfectly ignorant.

            I had caught a severe cold and was suffering from mastoiditis and had missed about two weeks of school.  The morning of January 13, 1916, my brother, Edward, came over and told me that he had seen one of my Treasureton friends who had inquired about me.  I asked who it was and he said it was Fred Griffiths, on his way down to the temple to be married.  I asked, “Who to?’ He said, “his wife,” and laughed.  So to be smart, I said, “Well why didn’t he just take me a long?”  My brother became sober and said, “Don’t be too smart, you may have that chance before long.”  I thought that a good joke and had a laugh about it.  In a little while my brother, Delos, came over and said the same thing about my Treasureton friend.  That made me a bit annoyed so I said,  “Did you and Ed get together and decide on the little speech you were going to give me?”  He said, “Old girl, I’ll bet you a dollar before the winter is gone that man will ask you to marry him.  I readily accepted the bet and shook hands on it, as I said, “Now this time you’ve got to pay.  You don’t squirm out of it.”  I paid the dollar.

            We were married June 28, 1916, at the Logan Temple, my brother Delos and wife, Cloie, going with us as it was their fifth anniversary.  I had had my endowments July 30, 1913.

            A year from July 14, my first child was born then I taught school again, this time at the Treasureton lower district.  My husband’s six girls, baby and I rented a house about a quarter of a mile from the school-house.  The oldest girl, Ellen took care of the baby while I taught.  Friday nights we would go home and catch up with the work for Fred and the son, Lafayette staying with them until Monday morning.  Sometimes they would bring us milk and have supper with us at the rented house.

            To the first wife’s seven children I added five more.  Edward Burdette; born July 14, 1917, at Fairview, married September 23, 1948, at Logan Temple to Yvonne Levi of Bountiful, Utah.  Delmon Joy; born September 27 1919 at Treasureton, Idaho, married June 30, 1947 at Logan Temple, to Kathleen Barfus of Preston, Idaho.  Quida, Born October 3, 1921 at Fairview, Idaho, married June 10, 1942 at Logan temple to Bernon J. Auger of Glendale, Idaho.  Zeldon King, born December 7, 1923 at Treasureton, Idaho, married August 9, 1945 at Logan Temple to Dorothy Fovey of Clifton, Idaho.  Thomas Frederick, born April 18, 1928 at Treasureton, Idaho, married February 26, 1948 at Salt Lake Temple to Darlene Brough of Bountiful, Utah.

            My first appointment in a ward was that of a member of the Fairview Ward choir.  I believe I was fourteen years old.  And did I feel big?  I sat by Ida McNeal and Nellie Gilbert on the front bench by the organ.  We sang alto.  Before that time a school teacher, Miss Clemens, my sisters and Lottie Bronson had all helped me to learn to sing alto with other children.  I remember my sister Gertrude, and singing a song called, “Down in the Harbor of Havana”, when they were holding services for the tragic death of the sailors who were drowned when the battleship, Maine, was sunk in during the Spanish American war.  I was twelve years old then.

            When I was about eighteen I began to work in Mutual, Primary and Sunday School and have been busy most of the time since.  In Relief Society I have been President, Secretary, Treasurer, Chorister, Literature Class Leader, Teachers’ Topic Class Leader, Visiting Teacher and one of the committee for decorating for funerals, in all about twenty-five years.  In Primary I have held the offices of President, First Counselor, Secretary, Treasurer, Teacher of First Group, Teacher of Zion’s’ boys and girls, Seagulls and Trail Builders.  I had a Trail Builders’ Chorus in Treasureton  which sang in a Stake scout meeting and in the Logan Temple.  I worked about twenty-five years in Primary.  In young Ladies Mutual Improvement Association,  I have been Stake Secretary, Ward President, and Junior Class Teacher.  In all I have served about twelve years.  The classes I’ve taught in Sunday School are: Kindergarten, primary, seniors and gospel doctrine—about thirty-three years.  I taught fifteen consecutive years in the kindergarten class at Treasureton just before I left that ward.  I also served about a year as Assistant in the Genealogical Presidency, about five years as Religion Class teacher and three or four years as Seminary Superintendent.  I was Captain of the Hiawatha Camp, Daughters of Pioneers when I left Preston.

            At present (1949) I am teaching Gospel Doctrine in Sunday School, 2^nd Group Zions’ Boys and Zions’ Girls in Primary and I am a visiting teacher in Relief Society.

            For several years after my husband’s death, July 29, 1937, I went out as a practical nurse taking care of women in confinements, though I had never had any schooling along that line except a correspondence course with the Chicago School of Nursing.  I was glad for what I had learned when I was caught with the Chicago School of Nursing.  I was glad for what I had learned when I was caught once with my neighbor, Leah Bennett.  I delivered the child and everything went fine until I saw that both mother and son were O.K. then I began to shake.  I am glad for the experiences but do not care to repeat it.  I was very thankful when, a few years ago, a fine young man told my boys that he owed his life to their mother.

            At the time of my birth my people were living in a rented house in Fairview, then they moved down onto the homestead, and lived in a dugout or cellar, until it became too damp.  They lived in a neighbor’s granary for awhile then back down on the homestead in the grain bin and shed, then in a tent and finally, when enough floor was laid, they moved into the partly built house.  I do not remember the cellar where, they tell me I used to look down the stove pipe and cry, but I remember form there on.

            My brothers and sisters thought it was a great joke for me to crawl up onto the top of the cellar and cry down the stove pipe, but Father didn’t think it so funny.  He told me once when they had been laughing about it:  “Your Mother and I knew what made you cry.  Your Mother marked You.  She was so sad about leaving her home in Hyde Park just a short time before you were born; she used to cry a great deal”.  Marked or not, I was of a rather sad disposition and very jealous.  I felt that I didn’t not have friends.

            When I was teaching at Dayton, I felt very depressed at Christmas time.  My father noticed and made mention of it, so I decided to make a resolution.  On New Year’s Eve I wrote in my diary that I resolved to cultivate cheerfulness and see if I could learn to subdue self pity and jealousy and become happy.  In a year I asked Father if he could see any change in me, and I was very pleased when he said he could.  I think I can truthfully say that I have kept my resolution, but I do have to work hard and fight against my natural disposition to keep from being a very lonely old lady now that my children are all married and gone.  But if God will just give me continued good health and then let me go quickly so that I will not be a burden on my children I shall try so hard to keep young and cheerful.

            I lived at Fairview until I was married at the age of twenty-nine.  We were in Treasureton twenty-one years.  When we lost our home there, we found a home in Preston 6^th Ward, where we lived until about four years ago.  When the two younger boys went into service, I came out here to Dayton where the two older boys had a small farm.  When Delmon married they moved a little house in south of the other house, where I had all ready chopped away alfalfa, planted apple, plum, cherry and peach trees, gooseberries, currants, raspberries and strawberries, also a number of shrubs and flowers.  Now I have a rather pretty lot.  Zeldon has put a large beautiful window in the front of the kitchen living-room in place of a door, so it is much more pleasant in my little two-roomed house.  I should like a good house like other women have ( I have never had anything built for me ), but that is out of the question so I must make the best of what I have.

            I have many happy memories.  My childhood home, though humble, was one of the best.  My mother was kind and serious.  She was a wonderful homemaker.  Father was the most patient, understanding pal that ever lived.  Mother would work for us, read to us and teach us the Gospel.  Father played with us.  He was never too tired and seldom too sick to give us a wonderful home evening—when we didn’t have a houseful of company.  He would get down on the floor and let all of us kids ride him.  Of course, we often got bucked off, but somehow we never got hurt.  He used to play the violin ( fiddle, as it was called ) and teach us to dance and sing.  He taught me to step dance and I often was asked to show off before company, and I didn’t like it.  He also taught a little girl named Amanda Adams and I to dance the Highland Fling.  We dance in a Primary entertainment once, then they asked us to repeat it on the 4^th of July.  Amanda came up to see Father baptize me.  The water was very cold in the large canal that ran through our field.  The jolty ride in the wagon to the house was fun.

            One thing that I enjoyed very much was riding to the big gate, a quarter of a mile from the house, when Father went away, then going sown there to meet him when he returned – if we saw him coming in time to make it.  Two things we were not allowed to do: to catch onto a moving vehicle or ride a horse with a harness on it.

            I never heard a cross word ever pass between my parents so our home was very restful and happy.  Though there was no scolding nor cross words, we knew that we must obey.  And we wanted to obey for we knew that our parents lived as they taught, so we had no desire to lie or sneak, to cause them sorrow, when they were so wonderful to us.

            We had a pond where we could swim and ride a raft in summer and skate in winter.  Father sometimes let us ride with him in the wagon when he was breaking a colt.  Of course, he always had a rope on its foot so that it could not get the better of him, and it must be rather gentle or he wouldn’t take the risk.  I used to herd cows and pigs a great deal, but I didn’t mind it much, especially when I had a horse to ride.

            I fancy I can see myself as I used to look in the pretty little, cheap dresses my oldest sister, Eleanor, used to make for me.  She often sat up late at night to crochet edgings to give the dresses an extra touch.

            My second sister, Irene, combed my hair and she taught me to read, write and spell.  I usually wore red ribbon on my long braids and on the neck band, or choker as we used to call it of my dress.

            The big event of the year, I think, was our visit to Hyde Park to see our grandparents.  We usually stayed all night with Grandpa and Grandma Griffeth.  I remember how we children usually tried to get out of the house before Grandpa picked up his paper to read to Father.  We would go out and sit by the well and eat black walnuts.  Grandma always wore a balk lace cap and long black earrings.  And always she had on her table honey and whole cucumber pickles.  We would sleep up stairs and I used to like to waken early and watch the town cowherd go out.  After our breakfast we could hardly wait for our parents to get ready to go over to see Grandma Perkes.  We would go along the path by the clothes line, past the beehives, past the pigpen and through the stack yard while Father and Mother went around on the sidewalk.

            When we reached the home of Grandma Perkes how wonderful it was to swing open the gate and walk up the plank walk to the house while the gate shut with a weight.  This grandma was very different from the other one.  She was rather short with a lot of golden-silver hair which she never covered with a cap.  She didn’t wear earrings or any jewelry.  She had a lot of flowers which she dearly loved.  When her daughter, Aunt Kate Perkes Harris came out to my husband’s funeral, she said: “Bertie, do as Mother used to say, ‘Tell your troubles to the flowers’”.  We felt free to pay at Grandma Perkes’ home more than we did at our other grandparents.  I suppose it was because she played with us.

            Our main amusements, when I was a youngster, were Sunday School and Primary entertainments, often we parched and ate sweet corn with butter and salt.  After eating until about satisfied, we used to play a little game.  One would take a few kernels of corn and say, “Corn in my hand”.  The other would say, “Send it to me.”  The first would say,  “Who by?”  The other would name a person.  Then the first would say, “Odd or even?”  The other would guess and if guessing rightly it was a sign that the person who named loved the one who suggested the name and the loser forfeited the number of kernels held in the hand.

            We Griffeth sisters were often asked to sing and sometimes I was asked to recite.  We say give readings now.

            Well, I think I’ve said enough about an unimportant life, so Au Revoir.

            P.S. You, my children, may write the rest, but please live as I have tried to teach you.  I’ve been a queer old mother often misunderstood, by every one except my father, but I’ve meant well.

            February 25, 1955.  Since writing this, six years ago, my family have built onto my small house, I now have a modern four roomed house with a basement, furnace, bathroom and electric water heater.  It is nearly finished and everything is convenient and comfortable.  My health is still very good and I have a greater posterity – nine granddaughters and five grandsons.  One of my daughters-in laws decided she didn’t want to be a farmer’s wife so Burdette has been living with me for the last five years.  If Burdette were happily married and had good health, I could be very happy in my little home with my fruit, flowers and good neighbors.