Our upstairs bedroom, then playroom, in the gabled second floor of the home that Dad and Grandpa built in Midvale.
Memories and Thoughts of My Sister Charis
By Donald E. Greenwood
Among my earliest and most treasured memories of Charis is lying on the double bed in the upstairs combination bedroom and playroom in the home Dad and Grandpa Wagstaff were building for our family – Julie on one side of Charis, and I on the other, while she read stories to us at bedtime. This was a nightly ritual.
Bob has written about Charis’ devotion to the newspapers and “funnies”.
Sometime she read stories from children’s books, but often she made up stories for us. Most nights, this is how I fell asleep, listening to Charis.
Against the wall on the opposite side of the bed was grandpa’s oak “Highboy” which I, perhaps all of us, used as a dresser for clothes. At the foot of the bed was a wooden toy box built by Dad or Grandpa, and painted light green, I believe.
An appropriate photo about that time (1949) – a cabinet somewhat similar to the old highboy, but not exactly the same. Ours was bought by grandpa from the Sears Catalogue.
At night, Charis was always in her long flannel nightgown, long sleeved, and likely Julie was as well. They both had long curly brown hair. We move to California the first time in 1952, so these memories are likely from 1949 – 50, or whenever we moved into the partially completed home on 7500 South in Midvale.
The cabinet is now in my home (thanks to Julie’s preservation) and I have the mirror frame waiting for refinishing. Dad and a few of us refinished the highboy upon my return from my mission in 1964. Dad hand carved one of the floral moldings on the cabinet to replace a broken piece.
In our family photo collection are two photos of Charis on occasions I remember well. One is the photo (probably several) of Charis in her cowgirl cloths, with gun belt and cap gun. She was captivated by the cowgirl mystic – probably from watching Roy Rogers and Dale Evans on TV. She loved to wear cowboy boots and you can find them on her in photos where she is not otherwise in costume.
Note in this Christmas photo Charis is in cowboy boots. I remember asking for a saxophone and getting one.
There is also a photo of her, Julie, and me in front of the Christmas tree. I remember that Christmas well. We each received one special gift from Santa, the one we had asked for. I remember Charis was fascinated by magicians at the time and asked for a magic set. I asked for a printing press (no telling why I asked for that!).
We spent the next several days huddled over the book of instructions in the magic set while Charis practiced her tricks.
The Magic Set
I will share something else. Even when I was six or seven, lying beside Charis as she read to me, I thought of her as delicate (I almost wrote “frail”). I remember thinking she was thin and vulnerable, and always worried that she could easily hurt herself. However, I do not remember her being any more prone to illness than the rest of us. She was just “delicate”.
The Fire
And, there was of course a heroic Christmas moment. Charis was playing the piano next to the Christmas tree, when the dried out tree burst into flame. Dad grabbed a lovely quilt off the couch, wrapped it around the burning tree, and charged out the front door throwing it in the yard. The quilt was badly burned. Charis was not hurt and the house was saved from what could have been a terrible fire. Mom well remembers this event and also regretted that such a precious quilt met its demise.
Playing Clay
From an early age, through probably 1957, we played a game we invented called “clay.” Bob and Julie have mentioned this. This was not a casual event; I believe over a few years we spend hundreds of hours at the clay table.
Charis, Julie, and I, and Bob as he grew older, would sit around a table with non-drying modeling clay, roll out long strings or worms of clay, then lay out roads, lakes, parks and the interiors of each of our homes, complete with furniture. Small stick figures, really just a post and head, were our people. Females also had a flat swath of clay on their heads for hair. This game was fun, relaxing, and creative. It projected us into our own small community and world where our “people” would work around their homes, get in their cars, drive to each other’s homes and go to church. I will figure out how to illustrate this for future generations; maybe the best way is to teach my grandchildren how to play “clay.”
We, indeed, have played clay this summer (2013) at Bob’s home, where photos and video document the game.
The SST
I have a little trouble putting this memory in the proper time frame; I believe it occurred before we moved from Utah to our first life in California; I would have been seven or eight years old. However, it could have been on one of our visits back to Utah after the move. On the edge of Grandpa Wagstaff’s property was a huge tree near the sidewalk. We often climbed up and played among the branches. In a crook of the main trunk and first few branches, was a space where several of us could gather at a time, probably eight feet above the ground.
Charis established a sort of club of kids near our age – cousins and neighbors. We would group ourselves around her, up in the tree, and she would tell us stories or lead us in singing our favorite school and church songs. She named the tree “the Sitting and Singing Tree”. We quickly gave it the nickname of the SST, a name that stuck for years. If I told Paul and Brian (Jensen), our next door neighbors, “meet me at the SST”, they knew exactly where to meet.
We would also often walk Grandpa Greenwood’s orchard and climb his trees and eat his fruit (which he did not like at all). We especially loved the green apples and would sneak a salt shaker out of the house to sprinkle salt on the green apples as we ate them. Charis loved to climb trees. She especially loved to walk in the orchard when the trees were in blossom.
Memories of Pittsburgh
I can add a few memorable moments, mostly unhappy, about our life in Pittsburgh. I remember Mom and Dad many times speaking together about Charis’ progressively grim diagnosis and health. She was visited by doctors or off to doctor’s offices often. There were times when she was very weak and would lay on the couch rubbing her hands. At some point (not sure if this was in Pittsburgh or California) Charis would dip her painful hands in warmed paraffin wax for prolonged heat treatments.
I remember several times being summoned to watch the younger children as Dad and Mom would take Charis to the hospital. Once, late in the afternoon after school, Mom asked me to watch the kids when she went to the hospital to visit Charis. The kids were playing and not being a problem. I went out front and started talking to a few of my friends and was soon down the road playing with them, completely forgetting my responsibility. Mom, when she returned, drove around the neighborhood and found me. Of course, she was furious and I was ashamed of myself.
We had a lot of fun also in Pittsburgh, putting on plays in the attic, playing with good friends in the schoolyard across the street, and actively joining in many church functions. But to a degree, Charis’ healthcare needs and her discomfort dominated much of our life there. I cannot remember her being morose or overly negative. If she were in pain or weak she would simply state it, but always try to remain encouraging and cheerful. She also really wanted to be busy; so while bedridden, she would draw, read, paint, craft, and write.
California
I remember several occasions where I would go to Charis’ ballet classes; for a while she danced for a small startup company in Palo Alto at an old theater that resembles a Quonset hut. They called themselves something like the International Boyard Ballet (pretty highfalutin). Years later, the building was used by a local rep company and was called the Manhattan Playhouse. It was on a street close to the freeway and I remember passing by the building every time we drove to the airport or San Francisco. Inside that building during lessons, I would sit toward the back in the darkened hall and watch Charis’ taking lessons on the stage. She would often dance for our church roadshows and other MIA events. Dad has of course memorialized this in photos of Charis “on toes”. Charis and Julie often danced around the house.
Jesus Jess Barba
When I was a police officer, there was a member of our department named Jesus Barba, or “Jess”. I was not on any squad with him for my first several years, but what I knew about him was that he was well liked and considered an exceptional person. Eventually, I was assigned a midnight patrol assignment and Jess was our Watch Commander, having just been promoted to Captain. Jess eventually became Chief and was the Chief of the department when I resigned in 1981. We had become very close due to his knowing Charis.
One night, I was getting ready for my shift in front of my locker in the officer’s locker room. Jess joined me there and introduced himself. He asked if, by any chance, I had a sister named Charis. This occurred several years after Charis had passed away. He told me that he was in her class in high school. He said “in a way” he was always in love with her and that she was the best, most kind and genuine person he had ever met. He spoke of her long absences from school and remembered her speaking before school congregations. He spoke of her artwork in school and told me that he often talked with her in class and on the campus.
I had joined the City of Sunnyvale in 1970, and was in the Police Academy when I received word of Charis’ passing and her funeral in Rapid City. I went to the Commander thinking it unlikely the department would allow me to leave the Academy and go to South Dakota; I had no accrued vacation, and we had no family leave policy at that time. However, Commander Reimer told me that of course, I needed to join the family. He gave me a few days of advance paid leave, reassigned me to the fire division, and inserted me into the next Police Academy. So, I flew to Rapid City.
Charis’ and Bill’s Generosity
I think it important to remind the family that I left on my mission in October of 1962 from California and returned in October of 1964, to Pittsburgh. Karen flew out to Pittsburgh to join our family for Christmas that year, and in February 1965, I moved to Utah to join Karen (and eventually, Julie, Charis, and Bill) at BYU. I was a single student for spring term and Karen and I married in June. I was very seldom living near Charis from the fall of 1962 until her death in 1970, so I missed being with her through much of her later life.
However, I would like to mention Charis’ and Bill’s generosity at BYU. Karen and I were sometimes poor (I worked as an early morning janitor in the student union at .95 cents an hour. It took Karen a long time to find a job) and, until our marriage, neither of us had a car at BYU. About once a week, we would get a call from Charis inviting us to borrow their car so we could go on dates. We often dined with them, and after our marriage they frequently visited us at our Wymount Terrace apartment. Charis loved to hold and cuddle our infant daughter, Heather. Charis and Bill frequently slipped us a few dollars or brought us a bag of groceries. Bill had some income with his fellowships and was generous with us. Often after they visited, the next day we would find a “twenty” in the bathroom medicine cabinet or in one of my school books.
Occasionally, while visiting, Charis would try out a few of her recent poems on us – read them to us and ask for comment. I remember at the time thinking of her as an accomplished poet, marveling at her poem’s pace and cadence, and her use of language. I truly believe she is one of America’s great poets and would have gained national prominence if she had lived longer.
Memories of Thatcher
Main Street, Thatcher, Arizona, as it was when we lived there in 1956.
I was invited several times to accompany Charis and her boyfriend in Thatcher, who I remember as Terry, on their desert walks in the evening. Once Terry’s sister walked with us and I developed an instant crush. Charis wore the red squaw dress pictured below. We walked in a dry creek bed watching a stunning sunset, which meant that we came home well after dark to a very worried mother. Charis loved the desert. She would walk head down, looking for horned toads, arrow heads, and desert flowers.
In many ways we all loved living in Thatcher (except probably Mom); the school was simple and fun, the kids were unsophisticated, mostly from farming families, and from whom we learned a lot of new skills including playing in irrigation ditches, a little horseback riding, and shooting rattlesnakes with .22 rifles.
Charis at this time was very interested in insects, especially butterflies, and would help us identify the various creatures around our cottage, some of which were scary, especially the four inch long centipedes.
I remember walking to church each Sunday, and I have a memory which I hope is correct, that Charis sang in the ward choir, or perhaps a young women’s choir.
On the main street was a genuinely old fashioned pharmacy with a long soda fountain counter where we would sometimes sit on the high stools slurping milk shakes. This was the hangout for the teenagers in town. Dad and I would also get haircuts at the combination barber shop and gun store. While sitting in the barber’s chair, I would study the long gun rack on the opposite wall with several dozen shotguns and rifles on display. Many local men came to this shop just to visit and would huddle on chairs in the back corner for hours. As Bob mentioned, times were different then and Thatcher was a safe community; we children would walk a mile to a friend’s house, walk the downtown or out into the countryside, uninhibited. Mom never seemed to worry when we were out and about.
Publishing the Country Caller
Bob has mentioned the Country Caller. Eventually, Mom actually bought us a hectograph kit, a tray of the special gelatin with a shallow blue metal lid. Julie remembers this as a gift given to Charis. These were widely used in schools to copy teaching materials, and we as students would be assigned a certain number of copies to make – one at a time.
We sold advertising as well as copies. Charis designed the paper to carry two sizes of ads and she and I visited with most of the stores in town to sell ads. The ads cost one dollar for the large size and fifty cents for the small. I remember we made sales to the grocery store and the drug store as well as others; our first day out selling, I remember exactly that we made $4.50.
Rest well in Heaven, our beloved.