marysophiaelizabethlybbertmerrell

Mary Sophia Elizabeth Lybbert Merrell

great grandmother of Myrna Gale Hoopes

Mary was born on Sep 25, 1877 at Levan, Juab County, Utah to Mormon pioneers, Christian Frederick Lybbert and Antonette (Nettie) Olsen. Christian immigrated from Denmark and was already married when he took Nettie as his second wife. She came to Zion by herself from Norway, spoke no English, crossing the plains when she was 20, in her stocking feet because her shoes wore out. Mary was Nettie’s 6^th child.

Mary wrote her memoirs in later life. She died Jan 5, 1958. What follows are some quotes, in her own language, which will, hopefully, persuade you to want to read the entire autobiography, but will otherwise give some interesting insight into pioneer life in early Utah and Idaho.

A(Mother’s) bread, without any trimmings, had perfection in quality, and had to be in quantity also, as we would use up a hundred pound sack of flour every ten days, almost by the clock, when we were all at home, for mother had ten children that reached maturity, and one little girl that died at one year old.

AThere must never be slang, and absolutely no quarreling and nothing short of politeness would do. Even infants were not exempted, if it were spunk, and none of us were exempted even during illness.

AI loved the business-like atmosphere of father’s blacksmith shop, he with his great leather apron, and heavy blows on the white hot irons, sparks flying all about, and then the light and lighter finishing taps, knowing instinctively he did it just right.

AHowever big and unruly the horse brought in to be shod, I knew he could do it and not even get cross with it. At that time he must make the shoes and nails, too, and all extras needed to replace those broken on the machinery he fixed.

AOur home was most humble, but the grounds were laid off and planted with painstaking accuracy and taste with roses, mint, iris and such. Lawns were to come into use much later, there.

AThere was an epidemic of diphtheria, which could be very serious before science made their great contribution. There was to be a funeral and father was to help, mother was very much concerned, but father reassured her by saying he would keep cloves in his mouth, thereby warding off the disease, then there was the little bag of asafetida hanging about the neck. It think it should be effective, as any self-respecting germ would not come near.

AWe cooked by open fires, most fires outside now provided with walls about a grate and even a chimney to carry away the smoke, which was always just where you were, turn as you would.

AAt once when we made camp, it meant unhitch the team, take off the harness and let them have a good roll to rest their tired, sweaty bodies, then up they go and give themselves a most vigorous shake.

AMother was smart enough to boil milk and cream until it was thick and tie several thicknesses of paper over it so that helped for a few days. She roasted meat and covering it with hot tallow, and so it kept for a time. What would she have done with bottles and cans we now have, not to mention refrigeration.

ABeds were made down on the ground, if weather was right, and how we all could have slept in our wagons at any time I can’t imagine, out under the sky, that is when the moon and stars seem so close, and the coyotes, too, but father was never far away.

AWe all walked up the steep hills, but think what this would mean for Mother L. (her father’s first wife) as she was greatly overweight. We children would take her hands and do our best by pulling with our might. She called it doubling teams on her, she was always so good to us, and seemed to love us as her own.

AMother started a fire and her long light skirt whipped into the blaze, flaring up most dangerously, but with quick presence of mind she dropped to the ground and rolled until it was out.

AThere was not a tree or shelter of any kind near, so the cows wore quilts tied over their backs when weather was worst.

AWith all there was for the grownups to do it was natural that Rachel, coming nine in June and I in my seventh year, should do all the herding. There were some 18 cows. We without shoes among the thorns and alkali flats, kept our feet chapped and even bleeding. For Sunday mother made us cloth slippers with flowers embroidered on the toes, quilted denim soles, and all by hand sewing, as we had no machine yet.

AWe often carried our book along with us while we herded, and that was when we waxed poetic, and made verses, which we put to tune and dedicated to a frog or some other romantic creature.

AAfter wool was clean it must be carded, just a small handful at a time and made into a batt about 10x4 inches. Never was a piece of cloth wasted, not even a rag, as that too could go with carpet rags.

AIndigo is a good dye, which then came in a cake similar to a bar of soap, which was dissolved in plain urine, collected from the family in a large crock, left outside for obvious reasons, into which the goods were put and must stay for days, even in warm sunshine, to do it right. It must be wrung out often to ascertain when the desired shade was reached and to avoid spotting. That was, to say the least and omit the harrowing details, a slow process, but most effective fast color.

ABy the time I was ten I had carded, spun, and knitted a pair of baby stockings for the Primary fair. And say, do you know, my father taught me to knit? It was this way, mother carried the yarn over the needle with her right forefinger, the Norwegian way, and father knew the Danish way, controlling the yarn with the left, which was much handier and quicker, if trained from the start. I remember so well he had me between his knees, holding my hands and the knitting needles with his big hard ones...

ANot a neighbor in sight, never a soul to pass our way, unless perhaps some Indians on their ponies on the trail they had used for ages.

AAll drinking water must be hauled in barrels. A cloth or sack would be fastened over the top with a barrel hoop. Not only would this water become very stale, and taste of anything that had been in the barrel before, but often had numerous wigglers that must be strained out, much to the discomfort of the wiggling mess to be seen in the cloth. ASoap of any kind was precious, every scrap of grease was saved and when no concentrated lye was to be had, we leached a substitute from such as cottonwood ashes. This lye made only soft soap which was not so good when using a washboard.

ABaptisms were always done in the open, in any suitable stream, and by our father, in most cases, and on our eighth birthday, with all the family attending.

AI never went to a full school year, not even the year I went to high school, or academy, as we called it, as it was run by the Church. There, too, Bro. A. B. Anderson did the job alone, except a Matron came once a week to give a lecture to the girls on good morals and health. I still feel unhappy and embarrassed when I think of never having a tablet or pencil to take notes, though we were constantly urged in the matter, but there just wasn’t a cent of income, we lived on what was raised on the place, and eggs brought in a little store pay, when it was the hens laying season.

AI usually went without breakfast, and never took a lunch, so I had one meal a day, and was well all winter, but don’t any of you try it, I would have done better, and surely been more comfortable if I had, or could have done as I now advise.

AThere was no real furniture, just anything to serve our need, mostly home made, and often fixed up by the women of the house, such as a box with a sugar sack curtain around it.

We were thankful to be proud owner of a little out-house. At first a clump of brush or a hillside would serve our need, and when stables were built, they were also a needed refuge. The building (outhouses) in question were put up at the least expense possible, and of course, were no real shelter, so when seats were piled high with drifted snow it was a matter for cool consideration, though summer time was more filthy with flies at home at either place.

AWe did use a leafy bough at meal time, when the food was placed on the table, but we were mostly responsible for our own plate. Bad as it sounds, food wasn’t discarded because one or more of those million pests had gone to their death in it, or just had a swim, more likely a bath. They were dipped out...later came screens, traps and poison, and now DDT, which promises to exterminate this pest.

ARemember the general merchandise stores were invaded by both flies and mice. Food such as dried fruit, sweet cracker, there were no soda crackers there yet, and candy were stored in drawers or binds under the counters, all made of native lumber which always shrinks leaving cracks for the flies and dust, the mice can always shift for themselves...

AFruit trees have always been such a miracle to me as though now seventy-four years old I have never owned a bearing tree, though we have planted some where ever we had lived, but mostly the climate wasn’t right for good results, and, too, we have made many moves.

AOur recreation was almost entirely ballroom dancing, if our all purpose meeting house, school room, log building could be so classified. Not many had extra shoes, but who would stay away on that account, when soil and worse could be scraped off and dressing applied, which often was grease, and soot from the under side of the stove lids, for a good black. For a shine, use water and soot and brush well while yet damp.

Married in the Salt Lake Temple to William Porter Merrell on Oct 8, 1896.) AI had my one best dress, the brown cashmere, trimmed with black satin with yellow design, lining, whalebones and all the rest, and a simple, white dimity to wear in the temple. Mother Merrell made me a pair of bleach garments and a gray outing flannel nightgown, bless her, and mother and I borrowed temple suits from Sister Stakey and her mother. I believe no linen room then at the temple, and how could we afford to rent clothes anyway? No blood tests were required then, just license and recommends. All orderly, but must have been slow as it took all day for one session starting at about the time we do now, and it lasted until 9:00 p.m. where now we do seven sessions a day.

(After having a baby) AIn those days we must not raise our heads to drink water or such for three or four days, and I didn’t even want to, so Will got some rubber tubing at the drug store, which was fine. The first day I was up, when baby was two weeks old, my brother, Enoch, and Will went to town to sign up for the Spanish-American War, but Vernal had its quota full.

AWill made his baking powder dough right in the top of the flour sack, making a hole in the flour, putting all else needed in, add the water and a bit of melted grease, and presto. Soon he was patting a pinch of dough into shape and into the bake skilletor bake oven as some called it.

ANo trip was complete without potatoes and onions cooked together in this all purpose kettle, on its three legs high enough to sit over some coals, tight lid with upturned edge to hold hot coals, and bail to hook a stick in to handle it by. I enjoyed helping, all but the smoke and the blazing open fire, and the wind and sun. Think of what it must have done to our skin, and still husbands didn’t know that was grounds for divorce. However, we did use large hats and sunbonnets for protection, and fought tan and freckles like a plague, with buttermilk, and in time, some could get a lemon.

AIn the fall of 1902, Will took sick and Dr. Bucketel pronounced it appendicitis and suggested an operation. Dr. Bucketel had had one appendectomy case there in Vernal, a Mr. Alonzo Black, who had survived to everyone’s surprise, almost, as such operations were considered very critical then, and before then many died from ruptured appendix and what was called inflamation of the bowels. There was no hospital or any of those wonderful drugs, so it was with deep concern that they made ready and used Grandmother Remington’s north room, early Sunday morning, and the doctors left the most rigid instructions for his care.

AIn January (1905) he (9 month old Barnard) was playing with Will on the carpet and just lost his breath, like in a pant. We took him to the doctor at Vernal, who called it bronchitis, which was new to me. The doctor prescribed lard, mustard, and turpentine on his chest and back until red, and then camphorated oil, and repeat. At ten o’clock he nursed normally, but by then they were quite sure all was not right, and by two o’clock p.m. he breathed his last, just going to sleep on a pillow on my lap. Next day, Irene, Porter, and Lucille were down with fever and coughing so they could not go to the funeral...

AThe summer and fall of 1905, Will worked on the Stake Tabernacle in Vernal (now a temple) and we started a small house near where the new seminary building stands...and our Willie was born there January 28^th, a fine, big fellow that Dr. Brownfield made a big fuss about for he weighed 12 pounds.

AIsaac Kimball’s casket (he died Jun 12, 1912) was standing in the room, over seven feet high, it gave poor little Irene terrible nightmares. I think he had always had to bow in every door. He was Heber C. Kimball’s son, who had never been tamed, but was most kindhearted.

AMother Lybbert died (May 25, 1932) a few days after Willie was born, so I never attended her funeral. She died on her knees by her bedside in the attitude or prayer. Her memory will ever be most dear.