Thoughts About My Sister Margaret My first recollection of my big sister is associated with my new baby sister Verna's pneumonia. Margaret (and I didn't even know her name at the time -- I was three years old) was part of the "big folks" scenery I remember moving in and out of the front room where Verna was lying in her crib. At that time my world consisted of my parents, my grandmother Brighton, Uncles Gilbert and Thomas, and Margaret, who was then twelve years old and much more part of the adult world than anything. Next memory is of accompanying her to visit (play?) With a girl friend who lived three or four doors down First South to the West. I remember being impressed that some folks lived three floors up. I suppose Margaret had been tasked with tending me while mother did other things. Remember that I spent most of the hour or so looking out of the window at cars, trams, and people walking by below, while big sister tried to interest me in watching some Felix the Cat and Betty Boop movies they were showing on an old hand-cranked sixteen millimeter home movie machine. Next vivid memory of my big sis was when we moved from First South to 167 "L". Remember our father driving us up "L" street and leaving us at our new home. He then either went to work, or drove to the hospital to pick up mother and baby brother Bill. It was getting lunchtime, and Margaret apparently had some money to buy herself and me something at the corner grocery store. We were walking down the street towards the store when two cars collided -- one driving east on Third Avenue, the other driving don "L" street. It was a bad (and loud) collision, and one car tore a four foot by one and a half foot piece of bark from the side of the trunk. Over the years the scar healed over, but I saw it twice a day going to and returning from school, and it kept me in vivid recollection of my first day in our new house and of my big sister's holding my hand as it happened. This event so preoccupied my mind that I can't remember what Margaret bought at the store for us to eat. By this time Margaret was at East High. My next memory of her is dad's taking me to see the High School presentation of the operetta Desert Song. Remember being impressed with the Arab costumes and singing. Never thought I'd one day live in Morocco and see the real thing -- and visit the Rif Mountains of which the male lead sang. My sister was wardrobe manager, and I remember being impressed when dad told me she'd been responsible for all the props and costumes. So I paid attention when she left her art work lying around, and was struck by her draftsmanship, choice of colors, and imagination in committing to paper her notions of "peace", "beauty", and other abstract notions. I remember that I couldn't quite figure out why her particular patterns designated these abstract notions -- of which I had little concept anyway at this age. This memory induced me to enrol in an art class at East myself many years later -- though I withdrew when I realized I didn't have my sister's artistic gift. But our brother Bill did -- in spades! Our parents were Temple Workers -- in a day when there were few of them and the calling rally meant something. They were gone two nights a week, Tuesday and Thursday. And Margaret took care of the other four siblings. This continued from, as I remember, from the time I was eight till I was eleven or so. In some ways my big sister was more influential than my mother during these critical formative years. I recall hee giving me permission to go out to play with my friends Dean Halliday and Bill Olsen after preparing and feeding us dinner. And I recall her calling me to come home and get ready for bed as the shadows lengthened. I've always wondered if she was aware that we were climbing trees I'd have been afraid to see my own kids climb, and running across garage rooftops and along the top beams of connecting fences to see how far, how fast, and how long we could keep going without touching the ground. If so, she was an understanding gal, 'cause that was the most exciting physical experience of perhaps my entire life. As Margaret got involved in college work, I kind of took over in the looking-after-Verna department, accompanying her home from Longfellow Elementary and preparing our lunch, and helping her a little with her homework. My two sisters were the brightest people I think I've ever known. Margaret was graduated from the University of Utah both Phi Beta Kappa and Phi Kappa Phi. Best I could do was Pi Sigma Alpha (PolySci Honor Society) and Omicron Delta Epsilon (Economics Honor Society). But my daughter Karen inherited her Aunt's brains and was Phi Beta Kappa. Remember when Margaret started dating -- or at least when her dating began to get serious. My two favorites among her boyfriends were Gary Garner and Jack Frost. They invariably triple dated, i.e. Gary and Jack always came together to pick up my sister. It was years before I figured out that they were keeping an eye on each other. They'd always bring some little trinket from the local magic store to keep little brother happy. And my store of tricks and jokes kept my classmates enthralled at Longfellow. I could put a lighted match (instead of a cigarette) through a handkerchief without burning the cloth, make a shotglass of water instead of whiskey) disappear into thin air (up my sleeve), and perform half a dozen amazing card tricks. Then along came Bob Bailey. Before I could realize what had happened, Timme and Bob were getting married. I've since come to understand why. Bob is one of the most personable, entertaining, and fun people I've ever known. Not to mention his extraordinary musicianship. But not to skip ahead, a next memory of my sister Margaret ass visiting her and Bob in the Kimball Apartments on North State where they first lived. Next memory is getting a postcard from mother (while I was spending the summer with Uncle Clark Thornley in Smithfield) saying baby Robin had been born. Remember running up Center Street from the Post Office shouting, "I'm and uncle, I'm and uncle". Next memory is going to Margaret and Bob's little white house at about Second Avenue and "O" Street to baby sit Robin. Similar memories tending Rob when his parents lived on Second Avenue between "H" and "I". And, later still, on, was it "G" Street just below Eighth Avenue. They next moved to Hill Field, more convenient to the Air Force Band Bob was playing with. Bob was then sent to Europe following the invasion, and Margaret came home to complete her university studies. I also remember accompanying her on some of her house calls when she was first employed as a social worker. What is it in the genes of Timmins girls. Both my younger sister Verna and my daughter Karen also went in Social Work. When Bob came home, he and Margaret moved to Los Angeles to be nearer the movie industry. Next memory is visiting them at Roget Young Village, a community consisting of Quonset huts, erected to provide temporary housing for demobilized war veterans. We'd lived for a year or so in Southern California when I was three and four years old. Remember dad and Margaret doing their daily swim in the ocean, while I sat on our front steps and watched. But this trip, taken during Christmas vacation, was my first adult introduction to California. Remember being struck that flowers were blooming in Margaret's garden -- in mid-winter. I've never questioned why both Margaret and Verna chose to spend so much of their adult life in Southern California. When I was considering asking my first wife Laurel to marry me, I invited her to drive to California with me (and my father, who chaperoned us) to meet my sister and her husband. We had a wonderful three days there. I asked Laurel to marry me sitting in Bob's beautiful, blue Lincoln convertible. Some time then went by. Next vivid memory of my big sister is of a Thanksgiving Day dinner at her place on St. Claire, and the fun my kids (at that time I think three) had in her pool. Some years later we enjoyed another T-day dinner, this time at our parents' place on "L" Street. We got to talking politics, and I made some unwise, and somewhat uninformed comments about California Governor Reagan and his early Presidential pretensions. Remember that my sister Margaret, for whom I'd always had great respect, but for whose perspicacity I'd developed over the years a true admiration, said "Mr. Reagan's been a great governor for California and demonstrated some impressive political talent. Don't count him short." So I began to watch his performance more closely and in time became a great Reagan supporter myself. Margaret was a life-saver for me at the time of my divorce. I was pretty shaken up. And she and Bob invited me to visit them in California. I flew down after addressing a conference of businessmen in San Francisco. And a few days relaxing with them (and attending Candace and Phil's wedding in the L.A. Temple -- and lovely reception afterwards) put new spirit in me. My next visit with Margaret and Bob was a couple of years later. I'd met Lola, and wanted my big sis' reading on her. We drove down with Paul and some of his kids, who were delivering a van and going deep sea fishing. Timme and Bob were impressed. And I proposed to my wife in their living room. As my kids have experienced some of the bumps f life, their Aunt Margaret has always been available with wise counsel . She's never pushed it. But when the kids have asked, she's invariably come up with wise advice on how to proceed. And things have usually worked themselves out. Bob and Margaret have visited us in each of our Foreign Service assignments since our marriage -- Paris, Mexico, China, and Romania. And Bob has put on his wonderful musical program at our home in each post. Indeed, we've been told that Bob's performance at our place constituted the best event most of our embassy friends had experienced in each post. Indeed, their visit to us in Paris (and subsequently to Thanksgiving dinner in Scotland where our friend Joel Dunn was the Mission President) resulted in their mission calls to France and Scotland. Margaret was the voice of moderation (and encouragement) when I was considering my Congressional race. She said, "If you want to do it, go ahead, and don't worry about the words of others warning you your name would be dragged through the mud". So I did it. And while I lost, I had more fun than any time since the State High School debate finals. And Lola and I (and Verna and Paul and Stuart and Char) and Margaret and Bob set off on a Caribbean Cruise to unwind from the campaign. Never had more fun. Nor felt closer to my sister (I no longer consider her "big". At our stage of life, age differences have little meaning). One of the great joys of our life is entrtaining our children, grandchildren, and friends at the cabin we own jointly with Timme and Bob up Brighton Canyon. With four post-retirement missions and their own service as Temple Workers behind them, I wish Margaret and Bob many more happy years with their families, us, and their hundreds of friends.