It was the year I turned six that Mom decided we were to move to Utah. The alkali laying all over the ground was having a bad affect on Dad's health so she decided we would move. Dad was in the hospital in Rock Springs at the time. It would be a while before he could be released to come to Utah with us. He suffered from a myriad of health issues most of them resulting from a coal mining accident that left him with only a portion of a lung that worked.
Like most things that pertained to our Mom, our trip to Utah was....should I say....colorful. We had an old station wagon at the time and that was good since those going on our road trip were Mom, Mary, Emeline, Jearldine, Francis, Lola and I, two dogs and a pet rooster named "Doc". To get the full affect of the picture I am painting, close your eyes and picture all of us in this station wagon. Mattresses are piled on top of the car, along with a table strapped to them. Chair legs are sticking out the windows and "stuff" is piled inside. And we are off with Doc perched on the steering wheel. He would crow each time Mom turned the steering wheel too far to the left or right.
That was the year of the big flood in Utah and Provo Canyon was not accessible causing us to detour through Salt Lake City. There was no freeway at the time so our route included traveling down State Street in Salt Lake.
Mom took note that everyone we passed pointed at us and started laughing. (I can't fathom why.) She would find her answer when we got to Utah. Emeline had taken white shoe polish and had written across the sides of the car "Ma Kettle moves again." For those who don't know who Ma and Pa Kettle were.....Google them.
Provo had now been blessed(?) with the Seyersdahl/McCormick Clan and I'm certain Green River breathed a sigh of relief.