New Years Memories of Irene Mousley: A Ride to the Top of Pikes Peak

It may have been New Years Eve when my friend and I decided to take the famous burro ride to the top of Pikes Peak.  We were living in Colorado Springs, working at Second Air Force Headquarters. World War II would soon end.  It turned out to be a very long, all night, harrowing ride.  Someone had talked us into it without divulging certain particulars of said ride.

It was only done at night which should have been a clue, but we took the bait, had a cook out first, and then, wearing a Colonel friend's long handled underwear for warmth, straddled the famous burros for the ride of our lives.  Fortunately it was too dark to see how narrow the trail was and how steep and deep the fall would be if the little burro were to take a wrong step. 

It was a long, harrowing ride but we finally reached the top as planned, just as the sun was rising.  I, for one, was too sick from the altitude and gripping fear, to eat the prepared breakfast or to fully appreciate the marvelous view.  We stumbled around a little trying to recover and act brave, and then it was time, no escaping, to ride those brave little burros all the way back down.  It was time to be startled and amazed at the narrow winding trail we had come up and would now descend.  Yes, I had a prayer in my heart, and we lived to tell the tale.  It was categorically a once in a lifetime experience.

Christmas Memories of Irene Mousley: A Pink Christmas Bike

Several weeks before Christmas my brother, Sam, came to me with a Christmas catalog and showed me some beautiful bicycles—mostly boys bikes, but there was one girls bike.  He pointed out the amazing features of several boys bikes and asked me if I would like to have one of them.  Of course, I said NO, I would want a girls bike.  He tried for some time to convince me of the superiority of the boys bikes to no avail.  At the time I thought it was strange the way he carried on, but I brushed it off except for an occasional question that crept into my mind:  Could I possibly be getting a bicycle for Christmas?  No, of course not, impossible was the answer.  And then it was Christmas Eve.  I was sent to bed, a little too early, I thought, but the grownups insisted.  I could hear them laughing and making noises as I tried to fall asleep.

Finally, on Christmas morning I was awakened by the family telling me to come quick and see what Santa had brought me.  And there it was—the most beautiful bicycle in the world with my name on it.  I was stunned and didn’t have to pretend my surprise.  They were all so excited for me and I was so very happy.  It was still dark outside when I said, “Hey I’ve never ridden a bike before, I’ve got to learn quick before my friends see me”, and out we went.  It was all boys that morning on their new bicycles and they let me join them in the exciting ride on my most memorable Christmas Day!

It was unbelievable and wonderful and I enjoyed my bicycle for many years.  It may have been the only girls bike in town.  Even though there were no paved roads or cement sidewalks to ride on which made it more work, I was still happy to jump on my bike and ride to the store for a candy bar and a pair of nylons for Pearl who had been so generous.

          On looking back, I feel a little sorry/ashamed that my brother Sam never got a bike and he needed one, always walking several miles to see his sweetheart, Myrtle Hatch, and walking the other direction to school and for basket ball practices.  Many years later, Sam said to me one day, “I’m surprised you could still like me since I wore out your bicycle.”  I was totally surprised and had no recollection of such a thing.  Can you imagine a tough farm boy going everywhere on a girl’s pink bike?  Shows you how desperate he was and fearless too, I think.

By (Myrtle) Irene Mousley, daughter of Nathan Cram Tenney and Myrtle Payne

Christmas Memories of Irene Mousley: Christmas Candies

Christmas began with my precious mom, Myrtle Payne Tenney, making her wonderful candies for the holidays.  She made divinity, with and without nuts, as well as fudge and penuche.  Then she would hide it from us and the hunt was on.  We found plates of candy in many strange places, including the washing machine.  So she had to begin making candy very early in order to have something left for Christmas.

We always had a sweet smelling Christmas tree in one corner of the living room, and a small tree with electric lights in the front window.  We hung mistletoe over doorways and waited to be kissed under the mistletoe.

By (Myrtle) Irene Mousley, daughter of Nathan Cram Tenney and Myrtle Payne

Christmas Memories of Irene Mousley: Miniature Flatware

One year my cousin, Myrtle Jones, who was a year or two younger than me, and her Mom and brother spent Christmas with us.  All I recall of that Christmas morning was when Myrtle and I walked into the living room where our stockings were hung on the back of a chair, and a few presents were on the seat of the chair.  I must have been slightly ahead of her and reached the chair first.  I saw what I wanted and believed to be mine, a set of miniature knives, forks and spoons, and reached out to snatch them.  The memory is of poor dear Mother, clawing the wonderful present out of my hands saying, softly, that this was meant for Myrtle. 

How could Santa have made such a dreadful mistake?  I was heart broken for at least ten seconds and cannot recall anything more of that Christmas—only the brief and tragic scene lives on in my memory.  

I told this little story to my daughters, and years later Lani found and purchased a miniature set of knives, forks and spoons in their own little container and gave them to me, in memory.


By (Myrtle) Irene Mousley, daughter of Nathan Cram Tenney and Myrtle Payne

Holiday Memories of Irene Mousley

When I was a young girl, in the 1930’s, Christmas began and ended with music, mostly singing. Christmas Caroling was our favorite thing to do. Sometimes we went in the school bus up and down the Valley, singing our hearts out and laughing in between homes.

Our home was humble but adequate: No running water, that is, we ran from the well or later the pump, to the kitchen with buckets full of water for household use. Yes, we bathed in round #2 tubs.

It was a great day when electricity came to our town and we could have a cord with one light bulb hanging down in the center of a room for light, and a string of Christmas tree lights. I think we continued to use oil lamps as well until we could have electric lamps to help brighten up each room.

By (Myrtle) Irene Mousley, daughter of Nathan Cram Tenney and Myrtle Payne

Thanksgiving Memories of Asia Cazier

I remember the year that Grandma Irene and Grandpa Woody came to our house for Thanksgiving.

It was close to dinner time, the house smelled of turkey and stuffing, and my parents were finishing up the last few side dishes.  My dad was whipping up the mashed potatoes (without salt or butter because it was the 90s and fat free food was in).  Grandma Irene was sneaking salt and butter into the potatoes because that's what makes mashed potatoes taste good.  My mom was getting the can opener to open up a can of something I had never seen before.

With the lid off the can, my mom grabbed the nearest clean stoneware plate (no fine china for us) and flipped the can upside down over the plate.  At first nothing happened, but then I heard a little slurping noise and out came a red, jelly-like substance looking exactly  like the can it just came out of.

And that was it.  It went on the table as is.

It was that Thanksgiving that I found out that Grandpa Woody loved cranberry sauce.  At first I thought he loved it in "can" shape because that it how it was presented on the table.  Later during dinner, he knocked the erect cranberry sauce on its side and cut it up in slices.

It was also at that Thanksgiving that the kitchen sink was clogged with about two tons of potato peels.  And at that Thanksgiving that Grandpa left us with a prayer and offered up thanks that we could spend Christmas together.  No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than the correct holiday, "Thanksgiving," was said in a monotone, steady voice by another participant in the prayer.

That was a Thanksgiving to remember.

So when you enjoy your Thanksgiving meal this year, please do consider including a can of cranberry sauce.

By Asia Cazier, daughter of Richard and Lani Moore

Thanksgiving Memories of Irene Mousley

Most of my Thanksgiving memories have faded away—so long ago.  I just remember the joy of beautiful autumn days, tables heavy with good food, cousins, aunts and uncles all there to share the day.  When I said I couldn't eat another bite (I was sort of shrimpy and my family would always urge me on) someone suggested that if I were to run/circle the house a few times maybe I could eat a little more which I tried with little success. 

I recall singing “Over the River”….and other Thanksgiving songs.  We sang a lot in those days wherever we went, always group singing which I loved.

But, here is a precious little song that Mother taught me and I sang as a girl on and around Thanksgiving.  It is quaint, violent but with a moral.  Lori and I will be singing it this month and smiling. 

Fourteen little turkeys, on a roost one night,

Grumbled at their supper which was very light.

Along there came a farmer, with his axe in hand

And he chopped the heads of from the turkey band.

Said one little turkey, just before he died,

“We could have been much happier if we’d only tried.”

By (Myrtle) Irene Mousley, daughter of Nathan Cram Tenney and Myrtle Payne