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History Of Lund Dahling Metcalf
as told by his daughter Ruth Metcalf Green
to grand-daughter Vauna Marie Green
My first memory of my father is walking to school with him. We walked to and from school together when I was in the first grade, because he was my Principle. On those walks he taught me how to whistle--note by note. He would say, "Make your lips go like this," and when I could do that he would show me how to blow. Then he said, "Now see if you can make the notes go up and down." And when I could do that he said, "Now let's see if you can whistle America." Walking to school with my dad was fun: we talked and we laughed and we sang. We looked at leaves on the ground and explored the world every day on the way to school.
My father was a man who was straight as an arrow. Except that he didn't have any sharp edges. He was gentle, mild, and one of the most caring people I have ever known. He was straight as an arrow in that he had integrity. Once I wanted to buy a desk and found one advertised in the newspaper for $12.00. After I bought the desk I discovered that there really wasn't any place to put it, so I decided to sell it. I planned to put an ad in the paper and add the price of the advertisement, thus selling it for $15.00, but at the last minute decided to make a little money on it and advertised it for $18.00. When my father saw the ad he was hurt and dissapointed and surprised that I would try to make something on the desk. He very gently spoke to me about it and I sold the desk for $12.00. That was the kind of raising I got from my father.
I remember one thing that daddy told us about his childhood, When he and his friends and brother dissembled a neighbor's farm wagon as a Halloween prank, then took it up on the barn and reassembled it. He had a mischevious sense of humor (but not vicious) and was playful all his life.
That was part of the fun of visiting out-of-town relatives. In the car daddy would always make up funny, silly songs and we would sing and laugh the whole trip. Especially imprinted on my memory is the the last few miles of the trip to Manti. We would watch breathlessly for the temple along that long last stretch, and when we finally saw it tiny in the distance, we all shushed and gazed in awe until we got right up to its grassy hill.
My father grew up in Manti and my sweet Grandma Metcalf still lived there. Dad had a very dear, sweet relationship with his mother. In 1936 when she died, we went to Manti for the funeral. The only thing I remember of that day is how much I hurt when I looked over at my father and saw him sobbing.
My father was in the army in World War I. For a time he was one of General John Pershing's drivers. He and his brother Roy were in France in the army together. When the war was over they enrolled in summer classes at the University of Utah. In 1919 they went to a Utah Educational Annual Conference where they met Superintendant of Schools Rex A. Skidmore. He hired them both for the next year to teach in Box Elder District. Mr. Skidmore told them they would probably stay just long enough to find wives and then said to my father, "But there is one girl that is hands off, she's already spoken for." Of course, that was my mother and she was the only one he was interested in. My mother's father warned her that she was going to lose Norman Jeppson (her current beau) "if you keep showing interest in this other boy," but she kept showing interest in the other boy and married him. It didn't take long for Grandpa to see what daddy was, and there was a very deep bond between them. I loved to go to Brigham City to visit Grandma & Grandpa Goodliffe and especially loved to sit in the dining room and listen to Grandpa and daddy talk. They talked of politics, teaching, morals--everything. They were both brilliant thinkers. Those were some marvelous times...it was probably a big part of my education, sitting at my father's and grandfather's feet.
My father taught and was principle in Bear River from 1919 to 1928. During the summers our family rented a house in Brigham City so he would be closer to the University of Utah where he continued to take classes. He commuted every week during these summers to Salt Lake City, coming home to Brigham City on weekends. In 1928 he got a teaching job in the Granite School District in Salt Lake City so he could end these long commutes. Philo T. Farnsworth was the superintendant of the Granite School District at the time.
Our family moved to Salt Lake City and lived on 27th South and about 3rd East. In 1931 we moved to a house in a Cherry Orchard on 33rd South and 19th East, and in May of 1937 we settled in our home at 1232 East, 33rd South. Dad taught at Wilson Elementary School for several years. When the Principle, Mr. Wiseman, died daddy became Principle. During the next fifteen years he was Principle of Wilson, Madison Jr. High, Blaine Jr. High, and Irving Jr. High. Some of his Junior High School students had had him at Wilson Elementary also, and when kids would hear my last name their faces would light up and they would say, "are you Mr. Metcalf's daughter?" Well, of course, my father's name was Mr. Metcalf, but there was no mistaking who they meant, and there was no mistaking the love that they had for him.
He was assigned to those three Junior High Schools because they were the trouble spots of the district. He was so good with his students--he would visit their homes and parents in trying to help them solve problems and he inspired a lot of kids to higher ambitions. My father used to weep over these kids, he was so touched by the problems they had. On occasion I have met people who have told me how much of a difference my father had made in their lives. More than one person said, "He saved my life...if it weren't for him, I'd be in jail." When he was transferred from Madison to Blaine Jr. High his entire faculty requested to be transferred with him. These faculty members have remained our life-long friends.
He graduated from the University of Utah on September 10, 1944. He had been taking classes for 25 years.
About 1945 he was hospitalized briefly. Doctors didn't know what was wrong, other than high blood pressure. In retrospect, I believe that he had a light stroke or TIA. It was a minor illness, but my father started to age rapidly from that time.
Some years later, while he was Principle at Irving Jr. High, the Granite School District decided to open a counseling program at Granite High School. They asked my father to be the counselor, but his health had deteriorated to the point that he was unable to work full time. He had begun to do home teaching while his health improved, but he never did get well enough to return to work full-time. He had his first disabling stroke in 1958, and another in 1959.
He was helpless after this last stroke. My mother had to shave him, bathe him, and feed him. One day, while lifting him from his bed to his wheelchair, I saw him move his feet. My brother-in-law Robert and I, each of us under one shoulder, taught him how to walk a step at a time, and eventually he got to the point where he could go on short walks outside.
The stroke changed him completely. He was such an intellectual man, and he was so frustrated at not being able to express his thoughts that sometimes he would weep. Once my daughter was playing the piano. His tolerance for noise was so low that he shouted at her. It was the first time I ever saw him cross, and I realized then that my children would never know him as I had, and that was very sad. During this time the high point of his days were the hours he sat on the front porch, watching the 33rd South traffic.
He had his last stroke on October 25th, 1963 and died that day. He was 68 years old.
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