
My Grandpa Brown is a big memory from my pre school years. He died in 1950, in Salt Lake City, and I think he lived there for several years before he died. I never knew Grandma Brown, because she died in 1934, before I was born. The time when I remember Grandpa Brown was just after we moved into our "big" house in Cardston -- across the street from the RCMP station and the cenotaph. He was married to "Mrs. Wood," but spent an awful lot of time in our garage, even in the winter when it was cold. He had an old (even then) Remington typewriter there and lots of papers. I guess that was his office. Very rarely, I went to "Mrs. Wood's house." She was never accepted by his family. I don't know why they didn't like her, but she certainly made delicious cookies so going there was always o.k. by me. No one is certain as to why his children wouldn't give her the time of day, but the general feeling is that Grandpa never did right by Grandma (Amelia Little) and so when he was old and married to Mrs. Wood (and probably much more mellow due to age and less problems), they resented her because he treated her much better than he did their mother. The picture above is pretty much how I remember him.
I still have a poem that he gave me on a small piece of paper, typed out on that old machine:
I saw a little dandelion, with a head of gold
Trying to outshine the sun, was that little flower bold.
I saw that little dandelion, at the close of day,
And do you know, that little dandelion's head had turned to gray.
Here's a picture of Grandpa Frank Brown and his wife, Grandma Harriet Amelia Little, taken years before their marriage in 1891. They look pretty young to me, and not very happy. I guess that was before one smiled for pictures. We had always thought these were their wedding pictures, despite their youthfulness, but they could even have been taken at separate times.

They did have their troubles. Many many of their descendents have been afflicted with very serious depression, migraine headaches, etc. I visited Rhean's daughter, Katie, when I was in Portland in December and somehow it came up that I was adopted. She was very surprised and asked Rhean why she had never known that (Katie was a big admirer of my sister Julie). Rhean's comment was -- ". . . of course they were adopted. That's why Linda doesn't have this chronic depression that the rest of us have."