Howard Lundeen recalls as a child moving around more times then he cares to recall. Here are a few of his memories.
“Mother married again about this time to help provide a home for us. She married Ross D. Smith whose birth place had been Rochester, New York. He was dark and had features with high cheek bones, and curving pointed nose that would indicate some Indian ancestry. The time, place and condition of this marriage I do not recall. The first residence I do remember was a big two story home located somewhere just south and east of the county court building in Salt Lake City. It was here that Richard Sexton, my sister Marian’s baby contracted small pox and the entire family, with the exception of my step-father became ill with quite serious cases. The doctor first diagnosed it as chicken pox and after a period of quarantine changed his diagnosis to small pox– then considered very contagious and dangerous. Our quarantine ran longer as a result of this and life was dreary–and very boring being shut up day after day. Our only sorties to the outside were from the second story window to a porch roof where we sunned ourselves while trying to construct sun dials on the shingled roof. The most vivd recollection here was making numerous articles out of the small empty wooden cigar boxes that our stepfather used to drop off for our use. We certainly valued them as they could be converted into doll furniture, wagons and carts that we harnessed to the pet cat– and numerous other items carved or nailed together.
When I was about six years old, our little family moved to Seattle, Washington, where we lived during part of World War I. My step-father worked in the Seattle shipyards at this time, 1918-1919. Our residence was a wooden framed house on Beacon Hill. The great Influenza epidemic of 1918-1919 comes vaguely to memory. I recall that when people left their homes, they were required to wear a gauze mask of some sort to try to keep from spreading or receiving germs.
Following World War I– I’m not sure of the year — we returned to Garland, Utah where my stepfather went into business as a garage mechanic. It was mushrooming years in the automotive industry. It was here in Garland that my half sister, Cora Margaret Smith, was born on April 14, 1922.