My Two Sisters

Growing up with two older sisters was amazing experience (sorry, Steve Jr., I can't speak to the amazing experience growing up with four older sisters...as well as two younger).  Michelle and Maurine never ceased to amaze me, and they still do.

I don't remember much of them in Spanish Fork, except the already recounted story of making me terrified of EEEEEEEEEE's. 

In Orem they seemed to make friends quickly.  It didn't hurt that they had two of the coolest nicknames.  Michelle was "Micky", and Maurine was simply her first name "Vicky".  So together they were Micky and Vicky...or the other way around.

They were both good athletes.  I remember a story about Maurine...I can't recall if this was at school or in our neighborhood...probably both.  The boys had gathered to choose up sides for football, and of course, she was right there. At first they didn't even want her to play, but she wouldn't go away, so someone finally chose her...last.  Of course they wouldn't throw the ball to her, so she had to show her skill on defense by deftly stepping in front of an intended receiver, snatching the ball, and going the distance for a touchdown.  After that they thought "hmmm...maybe she can catch", and soon found she was the fastest and most reliable pass-catcher on the team.  There were no more problems with being chosen last after that.

Both of them were key cogs on our very competitive 24th Ward women's softball team.  In those days, teams were composed of women of all ages, though most of them were in the teen-young adult categories.  This was fast-pitch softball, and they had a good one in Lynette Downs.  It was so fun to go watch them play...I remember travelling to Lindon, Pleasant Grove, and American Fork to watch them. They had the best team in our Stake, and one of the best in the Region.  They put a lot of men's teams to shame.

Both were competitive tennis players, and did very well.  Maurine was a little more defiant, so when Dad would practice with her, and lose patience, and drill balls right at her, her attitude was to get good enough to drill him back. I am sure that wasn't the only factor, but somewhere along the way she got good enough to compete in tournaments, and win most of them.  She had a bunch of trophies.   One year she went to Liberty Park in Salt Lake City and won the State Championship!  All of us bragged on that!  She also won a city-wide hopscotch tournament and was the best jacks and marbles player, boy or girl, in her grade  

They were both smart, good students, well-liked by all their teachers...which got me in trouble in 5th grade. I had the same teacher that both of them had, Mr. Sargent, a great teacher who became our principal the following year.  At any rate, during our lunch break I was playing a sort of modified soccer with a bunch of other 5th- grade boys, and I, among others, could be heard using "colorful metaphors" on occasion.  I was in rare form that day, as I was using my full palette up and down the field.  I guess Mr. Sargent had been watching us, and called me over.  He gave me a very stern lecture, some of which was how he had both  my sisters as students and never heard such language from them.  I respected Mr. Sargent a great deal, and his chastisement stung.  I won't say I never let a word slip again, but I was much more circumspect in my public display.

Also, though they were often Dave's and my tormentors at home, they were also our staunch defenders.  I remember an occasion when I was probably 6 or 7 years old, trying to cross the canal to go over the wooden bridge on the way to the school to play one weekend (we often went to the school's playground or ball fields in off hours), an older kid wouldn't let me pass.  His "ticket" was to punch me in the stomach, the effect of which was to knock the wind out of me.  He laughingly left me out of breath and in tears.  I, of course, reported this at home. Michelle asked me what the kid looked like.  I described him as best I could, and 'Shell said she knew exactly who I was talking about... a kid named David Mackey.  She said not to worry, that she would take care of it. I don't know what she did, and it was only a few years later I found out who David Mackey was...and he was not the one who punched my ticket that day...but he never did give me any trouble, perhaps an example of preventive retribution.

Maurine was always the one who trained us in special skills.  She taught us how to belch entire sentences.  She taught me how to whistle through my hands.  She could make impressive fart sounds by cupping air in her hand under her armpit, then bringing her arm down swiftly...a skill I sadly never mastered.  She also knew all my tickle spots, and at one point had me where she didn't even need to touch me...she just came near and started flexing her fingers, and I would become weak with laughter.

I know this is lengthy, but one more story.  When I was in the summer between my sophomore and junior years, I got a little work doing small jobs for an apartment owner in Provo.  I earned enough money to by my first two record albums...one was "Goin' Out of My Head" by the Lettermen; the other was a patriotic album by the Tabernacle Choir.  I was listening to that album on a 4th of July morning when Michelle was down visiting, and I was in the living room alone, and one of the songs touched me in a special way, and I was standing there alone with tears streaming down my cheeks.  Michelle came in the room to get me for something and saw me there.  She looked me in the eyes, then stepped over and embraced me in a tight hug as we both shed grateful tears together, and she whispered in my ear how proud she was to have me for a brother.

I love my sisters so much, and their lives and examples were and are a large part in helping me to choose and stay on the path I have followed.