Adrien’s Many Trails

I’m probably not through with last week’s subject: dictionaries, old and not so new. Maybe I should get hold of a really new one for comparison. The thought had been rolling around in my head, but with no real direction, so I wasn’t going to write this week, until the staff here at the T-I gave me a little shove.

First, glancing down at last week’s paper, and I see AJ Rogers’ comments out of his Book Cliffs series. It reminded me of an old friend of Sam’s and mine, Gordon Harmston. They had served in the Utah Legislature together, and he later became the director of the Department of Natural Resources.

I recall him saying, almost majestically, that as long as he was in charge nobody was going to “run willy-nilly over the Bookies.” He and his wife, Cam, were Uinta Basin born and bred, as was I. We had a bond of sorts, but I lost track of them years ago. Likely they’ve gone on to what we used to call their “just rewards.”

That same glance down brought to mind Thompson, or Thompson’s Springs, or leave off the possessive on Thompson. I have a fondness for that little burg. AJ’s parents, Les and Margie Rogers, were friends of ours, which made the four Rogers kids friends also.

Husband Sam had a story about Les that always made me laugh. He recounted Rotary Club Jeep safaris, during which the two of them got into long conversations/debates. Sam said they would get settled into their sleeping bags and continue whatever talk they’d been having around the campfire.

Sam said, “I would drift off to sleep and what woke me up in a little while was Les, still talking.” I assume AJ’s wife fares better.

Bringing this back into the present.

The backdoor opened a few days ago, and in came Sena, always a welcome visitor. In tow were Colleen Wimmer and her 12-year old son Kian from Sebastopol, California. Then the door opened again in a bit and in came Lynne Wimmer. They had been attending a family reunion over the Memorial Day week. Lynne had left her husband back in northern California during this Moab jaunt, and explained that her three boys were living in Portland. We had a dandy talk fest and reminisced about a lot of things.

Lynne and Colleen are two of the four daughters of Pat and Geri Wimmer, who owned the Crescent Junction filling station, and other land in the area. Geri and I belonged to the same sorority here in town, Beta Sigma Phi, which became demised many years ago.

Geri and Pat’s other two daughters are Charla, who now lives in Montana, and Moab resident Page, who married Stan Holland.

Sena and Colleen became fast friends at school. They met on their first day of kindergarten at the old HMK school, and were nearly inseparable until middle school. Sena would frequently ride the school bus home with Colleen on a Friday after school (driven by Tony Pini from Thompson) and she would not return to our house until Monday after school. The girls would ride the Wimmer horses for miles out on that open country. One of them commented that she’d ridden more miles bareback than with a saddle.

Ouch.

Back for a moment to the sorority. One year four of the girls (women) were pregnant at the same time: Geri and me, plus JoAnn Knowles and Betty Bowen.

Several of our daughters became members of Job’s Daughters, and I was guardian for several years. Both the Bethel and our chapter of Order of the Eastern Star have disbanded, which is true for many service and fraternal organizations. It’s not just Moab. It’s a sign of the times nationally.

Maybe I’ll get back to the dictionaries next week. As a journalist I have a love for words.