Beginning of My Personal History

In the last couple of years I have wanted to start my personal history; the sooner, the better.  I’m sure I will be able to recall many more memories now than later in life. Here is the start of my life history and a few memories that I have of growing up.

My parents Rod Jones and Laura Parks were married June 3, 1988.  On January 23, 1990 I was born in Rexburg, Idaho in the Madison Memorial Hospital. I weighed 5 lbs. and 15 oz. I had red hair. My mother was induced and I was a little early. She and my dad were living in West Yellowstone, MT for the winter. My dad worked as a snowmobile guide for Yellowstone Park. A storm was coming in and the roads were going to be closed. Dr. Lovell didn’t want to send my mom back to Montana in those conditions in case she went into labor early. So she stayed in Rexburg to have me. My parents lived in West for my first two winters and Almo, Idaho in the summers. Soon we settled in Almo for good. My dad worked on the family ranch which eventually became his decided career. The ranch has been in the family since the settling of Almo. My dad is the 4^th generation.

When I was two my sister Melissa was born. My mom said I loved helping out with her. I tried to change her diaper all by myself a couple of times. I used to tell people “This is ma sissa Maswissa.” This became shortened to “Swiss” and many people still call her Swiss today.  As a little girl, I loved to sing and would sing in church at the top of my lungs even though I didn’t have a clue what the words were. I was quite the chatter box I am told. Not much has changed today. My first memory of my Grandpa Wardle was him telling me I was a chatter box.

I have a couple memories of nursery. I remember my Grandma Jones (Annalee) sitting in the brown rocking chair. I also remember eating jigglers (jello shapes) for snacks. I remember singing and doing actions to “London Bridge” and “Farmer in the Dell”. I had this blue dress I would wear that had a big bow sewed on the waist. My friend Keely tore it off in nursery. I believe we pinned it back on. I also remember having a pink dress that was a hand-me-down. A little heart shaped purse went with it. Keely stole the purse and took off with it around the church halls as well. We didn’t become better friends until primary. I always loved primary and loved answering questions. I loved bearing my testimony as well. I would get up in Sacrament meeting every fast Sunday and bear it since I can remember. I am not near that consistent now. I remember singing a solo in primary. I sang “Adam was a Prophet”. I loved singing and would sing around the house. I had a little recorder and I would record me singing over and over again. I had a pretty good vibrato, or so I thought. When I was 5 I spoke in Stake Conference. I think it must have been the adult session. I was asked to speak on my favorite Book of Mormon story. I chose the story of Brother of Jared. I still remember wanting to take my paper with my talk written on it to the pulpit. I couldn’t read yet but it must have made me feel important to have that piece of paper. I gave the talk from memory. I still remember sitting on the stand and looking at an older lady in the congregation. She kept shaking her head back and forth and up and down. I thought she was agreeing and disagreeing with the speakers. Now I know she must have had Parkinson’s disease.

My sister Megan was born when I was 4 ½. I can remember staying the night at Grandma and Grandpa Jones’s. My mom called late around 10:00pm. Grandma woke me up to tell me I had a new sister. After coming home, my mom’s sister, Aunt Leanna, came and visited from Twin Falls and brought a new outfit for Swiss and me and some treats.

Sydney was born when I was 7 almost 8 in December. I remember talking to my mom on the phone at the Almo school and she told me about Sydney. I’m not sure if that was her name when my mom called me. I remember her saying her name was Sydney but my mom tells me different. She was first named Madeline but after coming home everyone kept getting names confused because of too many “M’s” in the family. She became Sydney. She had red hair just like me. I remember racing Swiss home off the bus to see who would hold her first. I think she beat me and I was upset because I “called” holding her first.

Ranching is a family affair, at least that’s what I grew up knowing it to be. It was such a part of my life growing up and still holds a dear place in my heart. My parents took me to the ranch with them since I can remember. My mom tells of times when she would go down to the ranch to swath hay and she would have one kid in a carrier on her front, and one on her back. This was done on a cabless swather. I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable that would be! My parents often worked side by side, especially when I was younger. My grandpa Jones always worked on the ranch as well and continues to do so today. I also remember my great-grandma Leona Jones helping us brand. She probably did this until she was in her mid 90’s. I feel that I was blessed to have grown up working so close to many family members. 

When I was really little I loved helping bottle feeding the motherless calves during the winter and I loved watching the teeth cut the hay on the old loafer feeder. I will never forget “Old Orange” one of the ranch pick-ups. My dad taught me to “drive” around age three. He would stand me up on the seat in front of the steering wheel, tell me to steer the truck, put the truck into low range and jump out and hop onto the bed of the truck. He then would pitch the hay off the truck to the cattle. When he was done, he would jump off the bed, open the door of the truck and shut it off for me. As I got a little older I learned how to shut if off myself by pulling a stick that sat right behind the steering wheel. This truck was jimmy-rigged and didn’t need any keys to start it. Another memory I have of “Old Orange” is burning my finger on the cigarette lighter. My dad told me it was hot and to not touch it. When I was in the truck alone, I of course pushed it in, watched it pop out, and put my finger on the red hot part. That was the first time I got a purple blister that I can recall. I’m guessing I was around 5 or 6.  My sisters and I used to find the horse/cattle whips behind the seat or sometimes they were kept on the gun rack in the truck. We would hold them out the window and pretend we were fishing.

We used to have hay loafs on the ranch before we switched to ton bales and then later on round bales. They were pushed close together in the stack yard. Swiss and I were playing on top of them when we were little. I happened to fall down between two and became stuck. There was no way I could get out. I can still remember my parents on top of the hay looking down and me. They reached their hands down and pulled me up. They teased me and told me I had found my own “little nest”. I didn’t like that very much. It didn’t help that I had always had hay fever. I had hay all down my clothes and was so itchy and full of sneezes.  My dad teased me about that incident for a couple of years. When I think of that story and remember my parents reaching down to rescue me, I often think how that applied to my so many times. My parents were always there to reach down to me and pull me up in times of trouble and need.

Another incident in which my dad rescued me was when I was five. We were moving cows to the Allred field out in Junction. I was riding my grandpa’s horse Skunk. I claimed him as my horse for a few years. I felt that Skunk was moving along too slowly so I grabbed the reins on the side of my saddle and swatted his butt as hard as I could. Next thing I know I am hanging on for dear life. He took off at a gallop into the sage brush. My dad took off after us on his horse. Of course this made old Skunk run even faster. I remember him yelling for me to hang on. I completely dropped the reins at some point and hung on to that saddle horn with white knuckles. I don’t remember this part but I started to slide off the saddle. My dad grabbed me just in time. I do remember being on the horse with my dad and watching Skunk run wild. Eventually he ran back to the Blazer that my mom was driving. I was terrified for quite some time after that to gallop or even trot on a horse. I wasn’t too fond of Skunk for a awhile either. After I out grew that fear, I enjoyed galloping and loping on a horse. I remember my dad teaching me how to rock in the saddle so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable. 

My dad taught my sisters and me so many things about ranching and life while we worked together. I also learned a great deal about how to work with my sisters. There was a lot of fighting and yelling that happened between us, mainly Swiss and me, when we were trying to work together. There were also many times of laughter though where it was all we could do to keep from peeing our pants. One of those times was when we had to plant willows in the Raft River on our property. My dad was involved in some program that if he “improved” certain things on the ranch then he would get grants or money of some sort. One of those improvements was to plant willows which were supposed to help with erosion of the river banks. He put Swiss and I in charge of this. We had little willow starts that we had to put on the banks of the river but that had to be in about a couple inches of water. Some places the banks were complete drop offs that were 3 to 5 feet high. I would hold Swiss’s legs and she would lie on her belly over the bank to stick the willows down into the watery ground. We would get laughing so hard that we would lose all our strength and I couldn’t pull her back up. She would either end up in the water, or we would eventually get her back up in a very ungraceful way. I still laugh when I think about it.