I'm trying to think of where to begin with my memories other than from the beginning. Of course I want to do it in chronological order, but how do you really decide what is the most important to share and what I actually really want to share?
How about friends? Yeah. That sounds good. I had a hard time making friends all growing up. I always liked people, but as I have gotten older and have looked back at how the relationships really developed, I realized there was no real thing that made them want me around more than someone else. Don't take that as a pitty party. It is just a matter of fact. I enjoy people a lot but I can come on strong and didn't realize that until I was older. But I have always been quite a bit of an introvert and homebody so it never truly bothered me until the last few years of high school. When we moved in on our street, Astor Lane, we only added to the gaggle of kids that already lived on the road. It was a long road that had a slight bend near the end before it went on to end in a cul-de-sac. We lived at the bottom of the road (and by bottom I mean the lower point of the road in elevation) and on every side there was a family with kids near my age and Gillian's age. Some of my dear friends were Crystal, Annie, and Amanda. There were times I felt like a total stranger, even as the years went by. I did better with individual people instead of as a whole group. Annie and Amanda both had sisters that were the same age as Gillian. Crystal wasn't a member of the church, but we got along so incredibly well. I always enjoyed hanging out with her. Her family moved to Nebraska when we were in middle school and we only saw each other every few years when she would come to visit. It was always so nice to have her back. Crystal was probably the most genuine of the three and I felt very comfortable with her in pretty much any setting. Annie and I were not very close and she moved just after 5th grade to Connecticut. Her dad was over the Church Education System out in that area for quite some time before they headed back to Utah and their family settled in Cedar Hills, about 40-50 minutes north of Elk Ridge, by American Fork. The first two years or so that we lived in Elk Ridge we were pretty close, but then things changed and I got sick. After that I felt like she was in a different atmosphere than I was. We picked different things to enjoy and I made friends off of the road. That kind of split us a bit, which was sad, but I think needed. We had very different takes in how to be a friend. I remember one specific day where I was really hurt by her. I had gone over to see if she could play and she said her mom told them no friends for the day. Two hours later I see my own sister, the older girls on the road her age, Annie, and Amanda hanging out in their front yard. I just went inside and realized that it was not the friendship I needed and stopped trying to make it work. I was probably 10 years old at the time, so still pretty innocent and unknowing. I never told Gillian about that, and for a 13 year old who never wanted me around anyway, she probably wouldn't have cared or shown much sympathy. It was just how the relationship was for us at the time. Amanda and I were fairly close always. Even into adulthood and her family moving away then moving back. Our families were close and her mom has always been one of those that I would consider a dear friend. We live different lives now but we had some quite amazing and fun times. Amanda and I were both small, but she was a whole different kind of small. I believe she is still under five feet. Because we were both small we could sneak into things like... well, the big dumpster of recycling at the church. Not the trash, but recycling. It was filled to the brim of newspapers all the time and we used it as a hiding place a lot. We hung out at the church a lot. We both loved to ride our bikes and roller blade and climb trees so we bonded over those things easily. She taught me how to do a front flip and made it really easy for me to climb onto the roof of their garage from their cherry tree. We would spend hours up on that roof eating the cherries. Best cherries ever by the way. I have so many memories with her because I spent so much time with her. One of those memories would be watching The Grudge. Oh boy, we were so dumb. We started it at night, then I had to walk home by myself in the dark at 11pm. We were both scarred from that night and you would think we could learn our lesson. Yet we didn't and we watched When A Stranger Calls. We finished it up and then ran to my room and grabbed the guitar and started to sing I Am A Child of God because we were so freaked out. Music was a good thing for us. We both sang and learned to play guitar together. Our brothers were both accomplished guitarist and we admired them greatly so we tried to learn ourselves. Although I don't play anymore, it was a great thing for us to start together. We went to different schools after elementary school. I went to Spanish Fork schools and she went to Payson schools. Because she was born in July and myself in November, we were in different grades. It wasn't until she was a senior and me a junior that we went to the same high school when Salem Hills was built. Our lives changed and we changed which lead to natural distancing. When we all got into middle school another friend moved into our neighborhood. Her name is Kari. We became instant friends and hilarity ensued. Kari and I still talk to this day and I miss living around Utah so we can hang out. Her and I were the most closely matched in temperament as well as likes and dislikes.
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I made my first memories in Spanish Fork, Utah as well as my first friend (well that I can remember at least). The Bowen family moved in next door and they had daughters that were my age. Sydney and I got to be good friends, it didn't last the test of time as we moved a few years later, but she was the best friend a girl could have had back then.
I learned how to ride a bike when we lived there. I basically taught myself. I would ride down the road to the elementary school and back. I mostly remember riding to my Grandma Teichert's home and back. I was really close with her. I didn't have that same connection with my Grandma Clark. Mary Iola Ashby Clark was in a nursing home and was in her 90's when I was 7. Shirley Anna Allen Teichert was in her 70's and was more accessible by bike. She also had those mint white chocolate things that are pastel colored with the little white sprinkles on them. I loved those. I loved going to her home and escaping the crazy house I lived in. I remember riding with Sydney, her sister Morgan, and my sister Gillian to Stone Drug, a drug store down a few blocks from home, to get lunch. I loved their burgers and shakes. It was a fun childhood. Until things got real and I lost both of my grandmothers within 6 weeks of each other in 1998. I was 7 years old and their deaths were hard on me. I didn't have any grandparents left in my life. My Grandpa Clark died before I was born and my Grandpa Teichert was out of the picture. I had only met him once and only have one picture with him on his paint horse when I was 4. It is a shame I don't remember it. When we found out Grandma Clark died it wasn't as hard. She was much older and sick and dehydrated. It was a sad situation to see her go in such a way, but a relief for her to no longer be in pain. Grandma Teichert was harder. Much harder. She passed away first, and for a little girl who was close to her, that was hard to wrap your mind around. It was the first death I had really truly experienced and can remember. My mom and her sister, Elizabeth, had moved her up to Park City where Liz could better take care of her. We couldn't do the same since we had Ammon to take care of (being in and out of hospitals a LOT). Mom had gone up the night before and when we woke up and got ready for school she called saying that Grandma had passed. Gillian and I walked to school with the Bowen girls sobbing. We eventually were able to move on and see that both grandmothers passing was for the best. It wasn't until later that I found out that Grandma Teichert had congestive heart failure. She had scarlet fever as a kid and it had messed with her heart. She was released from pain and was now in the loving arms of our Savior, in heaven. I still miss her though, 20 years later. Now, I mentioned Ammon. He is my younger brother by just shy of 4 years. When he was born he had to have major surgery. He has many medical physical disabilities that caused him to be in and our of the hospital basically all his life. Those first few years though were rough. My folks were up in Salt Lake at Primary Children's Hospital all the time. It was hard to be separated from them all, but that is a story for another day. I have a lot of great memories from Spanish Fork but I will get into Ammon and how his life has impacted mine when I get into my high school years. We moved from Spanish Fork to Elk Ridge, Utah in March 1999. I finished 1st grade in Spanish Fork, because what parent wants to take their kids out of one school and into another when they only live 20 min away and have multiple students going down to those schools? That would be a hassle to handle. Crazy enough once we went to middle school, we all stayed in Spanish Fork schools, even though we should have gone to Payson schools. It wasn't until Salem Hills High School was built that I broke with that tradition. I don't have a lot of crazy important memories from Spanish Fork other than those above. Most of my growing up happened in Elk Ridge that it only makes sense that my memories are heavily born there. I was born on November 24, 1991 into the James Neil and Christina Teichert Clark family. I became the 10th child and lucky me, I have a younger brother too. It was a Sunday morning in Winimac, Indiana. My family was living in a warehouse at the time. They didn't live there long, but nevertheless they lived in a warehouse. They all try and forget that I think because they don't talk much about it. If they do, it is almost like they were ashamed at the time. The was not being used at the time by any business, however it was just holding some equipment. Joe Thurmin was the man's name that let my family live there. We used the office spaces as our bedrooms and shared one tiny bathroom that only had a shower.
When I was born my sister Gillian who is just shy of 3 years older than I am was not the happiest I believe. See, when I was brought home from the hospital Gillian came up to me and slapped me across the face. "Take it back," she had said. We joke about it now, but growing up, after I learned this story, it seemed to make sense why we were always at odds with one another. The best part is, Gillian and I are now very close. My oldest brother, Jason was on a mission in Maine and came home just weeks after I was born. Just in time to help us move into our nice, new, and big home, and Christmas. We call this home, the big yellow house. The warehouse was in Francisville. This big house, with the big yard to play baseball in, was in Logansport. I don't remember anything from living in Indiana, even though we didn't leave until I was 3 years old. Even though I don't remember anything myself, my family knows many stories. Mom and all my sisters will always tell me about just how bad I had reflux as a baby. I threw up on basically every person in my ward. They would want to hold me but as soon as I was moved, I would projectile vomit all over them. Knowing that, it comes as no real surprise that 2nd oldest would have the same problems. No colic for either of us, but lots of reflux and lots of spit up to clean up. When I was about 3 months old, Gillian, 3 years old at the time, was wanting to be a big sister and a big helper. She must have heard me crying after waking from a nap and got me out of the crib. My mom recalled her terror as she saw Gillian coming down the stairs with me, arms wrapped around my tiny (not so tiny, I was a very chunky baby) neck. I was quiet. "I didn't want to yell or scream incase she got scared or upset and dropped you or went back up the stairs. So I just said, 'Oh thank you for getting her up,' as I ran up and grabbed you from her." Gillian never got me up after that. Funny thing is all the stories of me at this time all involve Gillian. I would be about 2 or so when I got my scar on my left eyebrow. We used to play this game where I would get a long sleeve shirt on and put my arms inside so my sleeves were empty. Gillian then would grab the sleeves and swing me around by them. Well our brown couch in the living room had the springs give out. In order to still use it, a piece of plywood had been placed under the cushions, but a corner was sticking out. We swung around and then my head and the plywood corner collided. I have the scar to prove it still. When we moved from the big yellow house in Logansport my family left some wonderful people behind. Dad had gone ahead with all the boys (minus Jason who was now married with kids, living in Idaho and going to Rex College- now BYU-Idaho) in October of 1994. Us girls all stayed back in Indiana to sell the house and pack until December 16, 1994. My family had gone to a ward Christmas party and there I received a priesthood blessing from the bishop. I had a very high fever and we were leaving the next morning. Now I said I didn't have any memories of Indiana, and I guess that could be considered a lie. However the only memory I have is of us getting into the Penske truck. I used to call those trucks the big yellow trucks (see a theme? It's kind of funny) for years, probably until about age 6 or 7. Now because of that blessing I received and the faith of Mom, my fever broke and I was not sick the whole trip! Talk about having a lot of faith! Mom drove across the country with all 5 of us girls. She has grit, and lots of it. We arrived in Utah on the 19th and stayed in my Uncle Clifford's (my dad's oldest brother) house in Benjamin, UT, until they came home from serving a mission a few months later. When they got back we moved to Spring Lake, into the home of another one of my Dad's brothers, Uncle Jack for about 2 weeks. We then left for our house in Spanish Fork, UT, just down the street from Spanish Fork High School, in about March or April of 1995. |
Kaitlin Clark LanhamWife and mother. Dance enthusiast. Amateur baker. Archives
March 2020
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