Arlene Park Arnold/ Money Mindset

Copied from email received from Steven Arnold (oldest son):
Our mother had the great trial in life of having to pay bills without enough money to pay them. In hindsight she was a saint.   Not once did I ever ask our parents for money once we moved to the farm. (in town I used to ask for a dime once in a while to go swimming in the public pool). On the farm I had my own little milk check from my own little cow that gave a little milk. She was a Jersey. The little milk check was the pay I got for working on the farm. Also, I sometimes earned other money working for other farmers. I never asked for money from our parents. I remember when I returned from my mission I worked on the farm while I took a few classes at Ricks before it came time to go to BYU in Provo. I did not have the money to go to college in Provo. Mom and Dad asked me if I was going to go to college down there and I told them I did not have any money to go. Without me asking them, they gave me $600 so I could go to BYU in Provo to tide me over until I could get a job down there. I did not consider the $600 as a gift nor as pay. When I graduated from college and mom and dad were divorced, I separately paid them back $300 each to pay back what they had given me. Our dear parents had a hard time in this old life as far as money was concerned. I remember them fighting many times about money. I did not like it when they fought about money. I bought a motorcycle for $400 when I was 14 years old and faithfully paid $15 per month payments on it for 2 1/2 years. Do you remember when I rented Mark Ricks little field across the fence that Ricks' didn't want to mess with because it was so small. I planted it in potatoes, irrigated it, harvested it, and sold the potatoes and gave Mark 1/3 for rent. I did that when I was 15 years old.
*end of Steve's email copy

My perspective on Steve's memory:
I find Steve's comments to be a validation of the Mother's mindset about money.  She was resourceful and expected her children to do the same.  It was not a lecture but was always an expectation.  The fact that at as young an age as 14, my brother had already learned the value of  utilizing limited funds to keep his word to repay a loan for a period of 2.5 years is quite amazing.  Our Mother's family, the Parks, were gifted entrepreneurs.  As I can recall,  all her brothers had their own businesses, ranging from farming, logging, bottled water, and even a trout enterprise.  I have memories of Mother selling her hand work when I was still in grade school.  I remember after all of us were gone, including Dad, she would resell a few items she bought at garage sales.  I was in college when Steve rented our neighbors little field.  I am gratified to learn this.  I am certain Mother fully expected him to run his little entrepreneurial adventure responsibly  in an excellent manner and in that, she was not disappointed.  I am certain she did not lecture, insist on progress reports, or double check on his quality of performance.  She knew the caliber of her son, knew he could do the job, and that was enough. 
My memory of asking for money was due to the fact that I did not do the outside daily milking and chores like my brothers.    I was never paid a cent for any labor nor did I ever resent it.  I wanted to get a summer job, but was discouraged due to Mother's health and the need for transportation for farm tasks.  I remember when I got home from my mission Dad gave me a pig in hopes her litter and subsequent sale would help me with expenses at BYU the coming fall, and it did.  Other than that experience, everything I earned before my senior year was most usually picking potatoes in the fall or sorting and cutting them in the spring for various neighbors.  I would try to stretch that money as far as it would go.   When I had money, I never asked my parents to finance any activity or perceived need.   If Dad would not have floated me for a movie or dance ticket during part of the school year, I would have never had much of a winter social life as a teen.  I think it was the same for my sister Robin.

Arlene Park Arnold/Money Mindset

Mother kept track of the family money and income.  She kept the bills in the kitchen cupboard above the radio or tucked neatly by the radio. She was a list maker.  She carefully kept track of money that went out and came in.  I am sure this was a daunting task of tracking the farm expenses.  I cannot recall Dad having anything to do with paying of the bills, tracking the income, or budget.  Perhaps he did, but I just never did see it.  Sometimes we heard about it, however.  It was not uncommon for my parents to have some very heated discussions about how money was being spent.  Mother was careful with her budget projections and Dad was not.  One Christmas Mother calculated carefully how much could be spent for Christmas and with that proceeded to make careful gift purchases for the children.  Dad went to town on Christmas Eve afternoon and bought gifts for all of us without talking to Mom.  I can still see him carrying in a huge card board box full of the gifts.  He was so proud of himself, because he hardly ever did the gift buying.  None of them were wrapped and he handed them out that evening.  Mother was furious.   She kept it contained pretty well around the younger ones, but she did not hide it from me or Dad much later that night.    I look back and think it rather comical now.  Mother always said she could hardly add two plus two.  She really struggled with math.  Dad, however, could add columns of numbers in his head without using paper.  I recall vividly Mother sitting at the kitchen table with paper and pencil using her fingers to tally.  This was long before calculators were invented.  Dad was a calculator.  Mother used to shrug it off.  She said he could do math better than her but she was a perfect speller.  When ever I needed money, especially in the teen years, it was usually Dad that I went to.  Mother would carefully write the amount down in a tablet she kept in the kitchen cupboard.  Often when the amount was written, it was with the assumption that it would be earned or paid back.  I think by today's standards our mother serves as an example of one who taught her children excellent financial accountability.  All of her children were taught financial responsibility by example and this  has served us well in our own lives.

Arlene Park Arnold/ Pillow Perfection

I read my niece Danielle's blog about her pillows and it brought back memories of Mother's pillows. I jokingly commented in Danielle's blog that I did not know pillow perfection was hereditary.  Mother loved them.  She hand made all her pillows.  She always matched her sofa and chairs, knew exactly where she wanted them, and heaven help the person who moved them would ever use one of the new decorative pillows for their head!  I remember Walt using one under his head when he came for a visit.  As I remember, I think a look was all it took and that pillow was right back where it was beautifully placed for decor purposes.  She did have a few old ones scattered around for use, but never ever a newer one was to be used for support of a dirty head and especially on the floor!  They were placed neatly along the back of the sofa.  She made and sold pillows in her later years.  She made checked, ruffled, quilted, or plain.  Some had lace, rick rack, or applique.  She would put them on a table downstairs for display purpose if someone was interested in purchasing.  She sold them to sisters, nieces, visiting teachers, and friends.

Arlene Park Arnold/ Aprons and Dishes

Mother was an apron wearer.  She would have never considered buying one.  They were always homemade.  Her mother, Grandma Park always wore an apron.  Mother wore one when she cooked, Grandma wore one most of the time.  She wore the 1930-40 types, tiny print, calico, big straps, big pockets, and lots of cover up.  Mother wore half aprons gathered at the waist and tied in the back with a great big bow.  She loved gingham, so most of them were checked, and some were trimmed in rick rack.  After she passed away Robin and I  took a couple of aprons.  Most were stained, worn, and very used.  I love those aprons and carefully put them away for safekeeping.  Mother taught me well.  I am an wearer of aprons and so is my sister.  When I cook, the first thing I look for is my apron.  I have never figured out why a women would not want to wear an apron in the kitchen.  I am a messy cook. I spill, I splatter, and I wipe.  My clothes very rarely get stained and I can pop off my apron and I am ready to go out of the house.  I have non-apron friends who always change clothes to "something clean" before they leave their home.  Why don't they just wear an apron?  Mother was one of the tidiest cooks I have ever been around.  She could make a fantastic meal with several courses and not have a messy kitchen.  When I was at home, she taught me to "clean as you go".  She would put hot sudsy water in the sink and when she finished a preparation, she would put it in the water.  She could never understand women who left their bowls or pans to harden, when it is just as easy to put them in water and avoid all the scrubbing later. That way she said, "Water does most of the work".  She was a staunch believer in doing dishes right after a meal.  I have no memory of Mother's kitchen ever having meal preparation or dishes from a meal left in the sink or on the counter top or stove.  She taught her daughters that the "made beds and doing dishes" were the secrets to keeping a good house.  I remember her saying that a woman can do other things to keep an organized house, but if they don't start with beds and dishes they are just fooling themselves. 

Arlene Park Arnold/ Sambo

Copied from email from Tim Arnold (youngest son)  memory of Mother’s Dog Sambo:
"As I was thinking of mom, many memories came to my mind. One memory that I think of every once in awhile is one that was the only time I had ever seen mom this way. Dad had got mom a little dog, it was the ugliest dog you could ever imagine. It was kind of red with some white on it. It was a male dog, had a little tiny rear end, a great big chest, floppy ears, and weepy eyes. His legs that were about 2 inches long, and bowed out. He was a very unattractive dog and not one that you would think anyone could love. Mom did not think much of the dog at first. It would get in her way in the kitchen, but he wanted to always be with Mom. When mom would lay down, the dog wanted to be with her. She named the dog Sambo, and really fell in love with him. She started to try to teach him tricks. She taught him one trick, or maybe the dog taught himself the trick, because he could get food if he would do it for mom. She used to say, “ Tim, look at Sambo”. She would call the dog over and he would sit in front of her. Mom would then point her finger in the air, and make a noise, and the dog would sit up on his rear just like he was setting on a chair. Sambo would hold that position until Mom would give him some food. She thought that was cutest thing. One day I came home from school, when I was attending Ricks College. I came through the back door and up the steps into the kitchen. Mom was there, and she had been crying. When I asked what was wrong, she couldn't even speak, all she could do was sob, not cry but sob. She kept trying to tell me something, the whole time I'm thinking the worst, I thought possibly that something had happened to Dad, maybe a heart attack or something. Finally, she was able to get out that little Sambo had been run over by Dad earlier in the day while up in the field irrigating. It was a hot day and Sambo had fallen asleep under the pickup in the shade. Dad didn't see him. I had never seen my mother cry like that. She had grown closer to little Sambo than we realized, it took some time for Mom to get over the death of her dog. I remember Dad saying maybe we should get her another dog, but Mom said no that something bad always happens to all the animals we get close to. I do remember that we did get other dogs later. " (end of copy from Tim's email)

Penny's perspective on Tim's memory:
I find this memory so interesting, because it happened after I left home.  My memory of Mother was she absolutely DID NOT allow pets in the house!  This little dog must have really found a place in her heart.  When I was a kid before we moved to the farm, I was always dragging some stray dog or cat home.  She would get so disgusted with me.  I had frequent ring worm due to the unsanitary pets.  She would scold me, while she was doctoring the rings that usually grew on the inside of my forearms.  The comment Tim made about Mother saying "something" bad happens to the animals we get close to" was true.  Grandma Arnold had a horse on their farm I grew up with.  Dad put me on Patsy with him, when I was about two or three.  I rode her by myself at about 4 yrs, if I could con someone to bridle and saddle her.  Finally, I got tired of that by the time I was about five, so I learned to coax her to the pole fence, where I would somehow get a bridle on her, and ride bare back.  Mother always worried about me being so young and riding, but she never stopped me.  Patsy and I were inseparable.  One day when I was about 13, I came home from school and Mom said she had some very bad news.  She told me Patsy had wandered out of the barn yard, been hit by a truck, and killed on the Lyman highway.  I was devastated, and cried most of the night, never coming out of my room until morning.   She left me alone treating me very kindly, even though I was angry for a few days.

Arlene Park Arnold/ Fun & Raisen Cookies

Steven Jack Arnold, oldest son's memory: (copied from email)
"She was fun.... I remember her dancing in the kitchen many times.
When I was little boy I remember when we were riding in the car and she was driving she would say, Watch, I can drive without my hands on the steering wheel and she would take both hands off the steering wheel.
I remember her quilting with her sisters right there at the Fowler house where we lived just down the hill from Ricks college. I clearly remember it because she would have the quilt elevated and spread out across the living room. Tim and I would play under it when I came home from school. Mom would make those great big raisen filled cookies that had the juice oozing out and give them to us to eat. I never really liked raisen filled cookies.
Sharon  (Steven's wife) has pointed out that mom could prepare a full meal without anybody hardly noticing that she was doing it, and then she would sometimes clear your plate off and put it away before you were hardly done eating.

Arlene Park Arnold/The Gift of Not Judging

Gift of Not Judging
If I was to randomly list all of mother's gifts, talents, or qualities, at the top would be her ability to not be judgemental.  Of course, the off spring of judgmental is gossiping.  She simply did not have it in her, it was a gift.  This quality seems to get lost these days in the finger pointing, blame others, and bash- another society we live in.  Mother rose above the pettiness of demeaning another to make herself appear better.  I remember one time I was talking about my Grandfather Arnold, her father-in-law.  I was about 13 when he died and I knew him in his mean years.  Mother listened and then said, "You did not know the real Dewey.  He always treated me well, even when I had problems.  I always liked him."  She didn't condemn me for speaking badly of him.  She just stated the truth according to her perspective.  One time Dad was talking about a neighbor that he thought was "stuck up and unfriendly".  Mother said that she had always thought this neighbor was just shy.  A statement of mother-truth stopped the conversation of any further judgment.  She did this often with simple one-liners that were never a lecture.  What a wonderful gift and legacy.

Arlene Park Arnold/Sister Get-Together -Tradition

I talked with a man last week who just returned from visiting his daughter in England.  He said they have seen her FOUR TIMES IN THIRTEEN YEARS!  I was stunned.  Sometimes I forget how blessed I am.  In a world where families are scattered, and some try to avoid each other, it is a blessing that our family gets together often.  My daughters try to get together at least once a week.  It is a tradition my mother and her sisters faithfully kept.  They got together every week for over 45 years.  They gathered at their mother's home, did her hair, and had a quilt on or brought different projects to work on.  Grandma had never learned to drive a car, so her Hibbard Idaho home was where they always met.   After Grandma Park passed away, their brother said his sisters changed from Grandma's house to going to a "feed lot".  This was a funny farm term he used for the "formerly heifers, now old cows" eating at a buffet in Rexburg.  Their brother Elmer, the youngest of the brood  who had attached this phrase to them,  was invited if he wanted.   After Belva, the oldest sister had a stroke, they continued to get together, but in her room at the care facility.   When she passed away, it was changed to garage sales on Saturday mornings, followed by eating out.  I remember one time, I was visiting mother for a few days.  Mother invited me to go along on the sister's garage sale Saturday.  Aunt Wanda, Ruth, and Mother went to a ton of garage sales that morning.  As Mother and I were on our way home, I told her how amazed I was that they had been able to go to that many sales in one morning.  I can still her slow Park drawl in her direct-forth-right manner say, "Well, we usually go to a lot more.  Having you along really slowed us down."  I pray my daughters and then their daughters continue this precious remarkable tradition.