Memories of a Full Life.
"I may never be tired again!"

"That crazy woman" is what I once envisioned people calling me. It’s not that I’m really so different, it’s just that silly things are attracted to me and I like to play. What would drive others to the brink of their sanity passes by me like an afternoon in the park: the slides all run downhill, but there are always the monkey bars to get tangled up in. I’ve trained a fully blind horse to ride, drive, compete, and even to jump low obstacles. I’ve lived above an Alaskan glacier and on an island in Puget Sound, Washington. I’ve cut small trees, 6" (15 mm) in diameter, for firewood with a hacksaw. I’ve explored caves, waterfalls, and ravines in Utah. I’ve gone "4-wheeling" in a Chrysler New Yorker Brougham (of course, I had to junk it afterward).

What challenges I might have missed along the way my children have lovingly provided in full measure. I raised five kids in a 100 year-old farmhouse (where I still reside) that was once a barn. When my kids were small (I had 3 in diapers at one time) we often had "diaper fights" with warm diapers just out of the dryer before we folded them and put them away. Trips to the grocery store entailed pushing one cart containing Brian and one baby, pulling another cart with the other baby in that basket and my daughter Jamie in the seat pulling the third cart, and somehow finding room to pack a few groceries in around the twins. Sunny got to walk and help me shop. We nearly always took time to stop at a park to play on our way home. I tried to find new things for them to discover, or new ways to look at familiar things. Sometimes, I drove along the lanes through the woods backwards for a change of perspective (not difficult when you know where the low spots and tight turns are). Once, when I was attending our community college and was on my last dollar, I had to choose which day I could afford to attend. Always an optimist, I chose the first day of the week, a sunny day following a deep snowfall and then two days of light thawing. I would have to park at a pay-as-you-enter lot and walk a few blocks, but I could attend, nonetheless, and started out early to have the luxury of capturing the full beauty of that day. Whoever plowed that lot had pushed the snow up into a large pile in a parking space at the end of one row. The unmanned box at the gate, however, didn’t register that space as full so took my dollar, and all the other parking spaces were filled. The sun from the previous days had turned the snow berm into a large block of ice. Armed with a tire iron and 50 minutes of determination, I was able to fashion a ramp of sorts up onto the top of the berm, and there I parked for the day. I made it to class. I still have the note that I found under the wipers when I returned: it’s been a trophy of sorts to laugh at when I need a lift. Life is so full of wonder and excitement and practicality, it’s not just to be overlooked and whiled away. With all the challenges life presents, it has to be fun or it could be downright difficult.

One of my most memorable moments was realizing that those challenges were not barricades erected to obstruct my passage, but toys to occupy my mind (I like puzzles). I have never yet met a ditch I didn’t enjoy exploring if I perchance hugged the shoulder a bit too much on my way somewhere. The time the front of my Toyota dropped off the edge of the old gravel pit was pushing it, though. My passenger about fainted; my son in the back seat just laughed and acknowledged that Mom was known to do the unpredictable. The weeds that year were taller than my car, but I had agreed to take a woman back onto the farm to look for Indigo Buntings (lovely birds). I assured her that I knew the farm well and would have no trouble driving through the tall grass. Fortunately, it was not too long a walk back to the house on shaky legs. My kids are rugged. I rolled down a ravine off a horse two weeks before my first daughter Michelle was born, then walked a bit and hitched a ride on a motorcycle the 18 miles (29 km) home. Though I gave her up for adoption when my satanic first "ex" threatened to kill her, it has been a delight to know her now, and to enjoy her family, including my 3 grandchildren.

Michelle grew up riding horses and driving tractors and trucks as I had, works in her family’s greenhouses, and likes collecting rocks (natural stones and boulders) as I do. We’re so much alike! I rode the Lagoon roller coaster near Salt Lake City, Utah, a month before, and then climbed around the rocks in the Garden of the Gods park outside of Colorado Springs, Colorado, the day that my second daughter, Sunny, was born. My third daughter Jamie was born at home in Anchorage, Alaska, after 20-plus hours of labor (4 ½ hours at full dilation—she was in an awkward position and a large baby). A midwife, a doctor, and several friends were there. She was healthy and I was a bit too stubborn to go to the hospital a mile away as long as she was not in danger. My fourth, my first son, was also born at that house in Anchorage. My husband and some friends and I were building a house near the end of Eagle River Canyon several miles north of Anchorage at the time. We were in need of cardboard that day to make some templates with (our house was an elongated octagon in shape, so all the kitchen cabinets had to be custom cut and we wanted patterns). I crawled into a dumpster in Anchorage for large boxes, then stopped at the bank for money so we could pay the midwife and doctor (who didn’t make it until after Brian was born). I delivered the boxes up the mountain and informed my husband that I was in active labor, so perhaps he should return to Anchorage a bit early that day. (He forgot; when he returned with a friend after a few beers later that night, I was about ½ hour from delivery. When I asked him to call the midwife for me, he suggested I call her myself after ordering him a pizza…which I did…no wonder I’m divorced! Ha.)

We had sold our house in Anchorage and should have turned in the keys that afternoon. Our furniture, except for the sofa and dining table, had already been moved into a storage locker near Eagle River. I advised the real estate agent that I was in labor (and the trailer we would be moving into at the house site was without a phone, heat or electricity at the time) so the new owners graciously allowed us to remain in the warm Anchorage house for the weekend. The 20’(6 m) trailer we then moved into had been used as a tool crib for a construction crew at one time, so our only "furniture" consisted of two small seats and a fold-down table that served as a bed, with a bunk above that. We had constant ice on the floor, but once we got electricity, we did have heat at the top. I learned to change diapers very quickly! We hauled water from a nearby creek to cook with. During that time, we would go into Anchorage to the University of Alaska and pay to use the swimming pool facilities there. But instead of using the pool, we used the hot showers. Those were fun times!

We had purchased the mountain property in the summertime, only to discover that artesian water along the steep road created a flowing glacier in cold weather. A man who lived down in the valley kept our road open by dynamiting it every Monday morning during the winter months. The school bus stop was on the road below us, and it took 4-wheel drive, low gear, and chains on all 4 tires to travel across the glacier, which we did twice a day. Coming up the mountain wasn’t too bad if enough speed was maintained not to stall; riding the watery river of ice down the roadway was another matter altogether. Most of the time we slid sideways, backwards, or did loops down the ¾ mile to the bottom, where snow was bermed along the trees to stop us. Once, when I forgot to set my alarm, I didn’t have time to dress before driving Sunny to the bus stop. Wouldn’t you know it? That day my truck stalled at the bottom (I had the plow that day because we had gotten fresh snow and the old truck wasn’t overly reliable). We were finally able to sleep in our unheated house about three months later (in mid December). It seemed huge at the time! Ha. It was then that I cut trees with a little hacksaw for firewood. Some house workers had criticized my husband for sending me out with a chainsaw, but he missed the point and just took the power away from me. Not wanting to give up easily, I was determined to pass his test of my endurance. Later we found a source for coal, but there was no loader. So, I bundled Brian up in his car seat and hand shoveled coal by the ton (off-loaded it too, of course). On one trip up the mountain in the springtime, my right front wheel dropped through the ice and there we sat, precariously caught by one axle. After quite a time, a neighbor was able to winch us up by tying his truck to some trees. I had gathered what stones I could find from the area and some branches for traction and wedging, and dug out in front of the stuck tire (leaving enough ice to hold the truck in place until we were safely tied off). Another time, I backed my VW "squareback" off the side of the road, but small trees caught the car in time to save us. At least, that was in summertime! When we finally got a tow truck up the mountain, the driver advised me that I would have to consider my car "dead and buried" where it sat. Remembering the earlier trick, we were able to tie the wrecker to trees above the road and eventually did get my little car back up the slope. On two other occasions, I had to build "bridges" of rocks and wood to inch myself up after sliding partially off the roadway. The sense of foolishness and accomplishment I gained on the mountain was immense! And, I did eventually learn to respect that road’s boundaries in bad weather!

Probably my favorite memories of Alaska, other than the striking scenery, are of the moose. One cow moose frequented our property, showing off her calves to us (one year she had twins) and befriending our faithful dog, Auggie. Our old dog had been around cattle when we lived in Idaho, so wasn’t afraid of them. Mike and Matt were born here in Michigan, and are now 17 and in high school. Steve and I had separated by then and later divorced, which led to the antics mentioned above when the kids were young. I guess I just enjoyed being a kid again myself for a while. My daughters helped me build a large playhouse with a sandbox, and we spent a lot of time out there together playing. Today, my brother, his wife, and her mother live upstairs from us, in this old house we call home. We have conflicting moments on occasion, but life today is very easy compared with those earlier times. I recently found a note that I had written when the twins were nearly a year old. At that time, we heated with firewood, and the small furnace had to be stoked and filled about every three hours around the clock, though this night was particularly warm and I let it go down to some coals. I was feeling the struggle to remain positive with the kids, and was feeling truly worn out. I knew I wasn’t getting any sleep, and I decided to track a sample night. I was still breastfeeding the boys then and each notation for them below indicated a feeding and diaper change (roughly 10-12 minutes). Brian was being potty trained at the time. Here is what I scribbled on the notepad:

- Bev Lyon 
Mason, Michigan, U.S.A.

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