Charis Memories

By Walter Lamont Greenwood

I envy Bob and Don for their plentiful and clear memories of their early years. I find it hard to recall details as well as they do. I may be confusing some events with things that happened at other times, but these are my memories as best I can recall them. I am sending this also to Bill in case he can clarify or correct anything.

I do recall several things about the summer in Provo. Charis and Bill lived in a “Quad”, an arrangement of 4 dormitory buildings enclosing a large square open yard. I am not sure (Bill can verify this), but I think the apartment was on the second floor. I was five years old, and my memory of the visit seems as if it spanned the whole summer, although I suspect that it was shorter.

There was a garden that we tended and from which we harvested various vegetables. I specifically remember picking peas and eating them raw right out of the pods. They were sweet and delicious. I seem to remember sweet corn and tomatoes as well.

Of course I remember riding in the old green Buick, but can’t offer any particular details about it.

We went star gazing and I learned to find and identify several constellations. In particular, I remember Bill showing me Orion and his belt. Now that I live under the clearest sky in the whole country, and can see the constellations and the Milky Way better than ever before, I often think back to those evenings in Utah.

We went together to see the Beatles movie “Help”. I became a Beatles fan instantly and, with Charis’ help, made a guitar from a cigar box and rubber bands. We later bought the soundtrack record and I spent many hours listening to it over and over. The original record included the prelude to the third act of Lohengrin, an opera by Richard Wagner. I knew nothing of opera at that point, and remember thinking for a very long time that it was a Beatles song.

I laugh at myself now when I remember being very disappointed to learn that my new heroes, the Beatles, were not Mormons.

We also went to see a movie that scared the living daylights out of me. I think it was “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane”. I have an image in my mind of Bette Davis falling down a staircase.

Charis and Bill had a record by Al Hirt, and I played the song “Java” over and over while running back and forth across the living room in time with the music. I must have driven everyone crazy playing one song over and over and over for days on end. I still listen to music that way, and enjoy learning pieces of music inside-out by repeated hearing.

While I was in Provo, Uncle Walter came for a visit, and I remember him sitting on a sofa talking with Charis and Bill. For some reason, I thought it would be very funny to stomp as hard as I could on his toes. Nobody else thought it was funny. Perhaps I was feeling neglected while the adults had their conversation, and was seeking attention. Mom, if you remember this happening in Portland instead, please let me know. This might be one of those confused memories. Bill, do you recall this incident?

I remember Charis making mosaic pictures out of colored glass. She put empty pop bottles in a pot of water and brought it all to a boil. Then she plunged the hot bottles into a bucket of ice water, which shattered the glass. She glued the little pieces to boards to make various pictures. I seem to remember one of a rooster.

I have a memory of growing “sensitive plants” (Mimosa pudica) from seeds. I think this was a project that Charis and I did together. She showed me their curious habit of folding up when you touch their leaves. I had forgotten about this for many years, but coming to Hawaii stirred the memory because these same plants grow as weeds here.

I started a rock collection during that summer, and Bill taught me to mark each specimen with a unique number that would then refer back to a descriptive entry in the collection’s log book. We marked each rock by first putting a small dot on it with white enamel, about a quarter of an inch in diameter, then writing a number on the dot with black India ink. I kept several specimens from that collection for many years after that, and still have a few of them, including one or two pieces of obsidian and a green, chalky stone.

Bill took time to tell me many things that amazed me and drew me into thinking about the world from a scientist’s point of view. I remember him teaching me Newton’s laws of motion. I can still hear him saying “A body at rest tends to remain at rest, and a body in motion tends to remain in motion. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”

I found a young friend in the quad and we played together from time to time. He lived in the adjoining building. Bill brought me a piece of machinery about the size of a loaf of bread, with buttons and levers, somewhat like the guts of a manual typewriter. My friend, whose name I cannot recall, and I had lots of fun pretending it was something very powerful and important. I also have a memory of him wearing a hat and hitting something on the ground with a hammer.

I had forgotten about making audio tapes to send as “letters” to the family back home, but was reminded of that when I heard one of those recordings again a few years ago.

Later on, we went as a family to Charis and Bill’s house in Rapid City. I can’t remember much about that trip, but I vividly recall the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and seeing live bison.

After Charis came to Pittsburgh, I greatly enjoyed being a doting uncle to sweet little Paula, and remember having an adolescent notion, perhaps even a fervent hope, that we would get married someday. I remember Charis being very ill during those days, and spending lots of time lying down on the couch. I remember her frequent nose-bleeds and the concern we all shared over getting them under control.

My last memory of Charis while she was still alive saddens me greatly, because it was a rather unpleasant conversation. Paula asked me for some ice cream, and I refused, thinking that her mother would not have approved. When Charis heard this, she reprimanded me for being stingy. I had thought I was doing the right thing, but all these years later, I still wish I had done that little insignificant thing differently.