Our little dead end street of 9th west was just a little happy sometimes dysfunctional family. When holidays came around we would celebrate together. On Halloween Mother would help us with our costumes and the kids would go trick or treating en-mass. Roaming over many blocks mostly in our ward boundaries. We soon learned what houses gave out the best treats and which houses would require us to do some kind of trick to get our treat. I would try to avoid those houses but sometimes I would forget and if required my standard trick was to sing “Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam” or “Give Said The Little Stream”. Then we would come home and dump it all out and separate out the “good” stuff from the old apples and crumbly cookies. We didn’t worry about tainted treats. Many houses gave out home made treats and most of the time these were some of the best.
Once Halloween was over then we looked forward to Thanksgiving. The Cox families would plan Thanksgiving dinner together. Because my Dad was the Bishop we would get some of the banquet tables and some folding chairs from the church and set them up in Aunt Wanda’s living room. The food would be assigned and on Thanksgiving day we would gather at Uncle Reid and Aunt Wanda’s. Sometimes Uncle Morris’ Father and Mother would join us and sometimes Aunt Wanda’s relatives would come. Mother made the best bread,( actually Mother made the best of everything) Aunt Wanda’s pies always had burned crusts and Aunt Mary made really good candied yams, Aunt Mima made good mince meat pies, (the only time I liked mince meat). The kid’s were put to work making place marks and turkeys out of gum drops, marshmallows, and tooth picks. Then we would argue about where everyone would sit. It was always something to look forward to be allowed to sit at the grownups table. It is interesting to realize how your tastes change as you grow older. I remember not liking the taste of real butter, which was a treat for some. Mother always encouraged us to try everything. I guess there were some things I would refuse to eat but not much.
When I was about nine, Dad started to build a house across the street from where we lived. It took him about two years to finish. He and Uncle Reid did most of the carpentry work and the electrical wiring. One Thanksgiving after the walls were up and the roof on, we set up the tables in our new house. I remember that as a very different dinner. The weather was warm that year but it was not as comfortable as Aunt Wanda’s. But we were having dinner at our house for once. Once or twice our family journeyed to Pocatello to have Thanksgiving with Mothers family. As I look back on those years I remember them with fondness. I also think there were times when my Mother must have felt like an outsider. She spent her whole life surrounded by Cox relatives. She wrote letters to her Mother and she had a circle of friends from Pocatello that she kept in touch with for the rest of her life. But for the most part she was pretty isolated from her family and friends.