Life History of Russell Herman Hansen as taken from his own hand writing

My life story began literally before I was born. Just prior to my birth, my mother caught her thumb in the wringer of an old style washing machine. It pulled her thumb right off at the first joint. Because of this accident, she had complications. The doctor told my father that if she continued to carry the unborn child, he would probably loose her. His advice was to take the baby which would not have lived-not being mature enough. My father said no and that the doctor could not take the baby. My father said that my mother would be all right. The birth was normal (April 12, 1927) and both my mother and I survived. Because of my parent's faith, my life story can now be told.

I was born in Salt Lake City, Utah. My father had gone there for employment. My parents along with my two older sisters, Ruth (8) and Ester (7), and my brother Gordon (5) were living with Grandma Ramseyer (my mother's mother). Soon after this time, father secured work as a decorator at Taylor Brothers Dept. Store in Provo. The family moved to North West Provo, Utah.

Later the family moved to 205 West 1200 South, Orem, Utah. While we were living there, my younger sister, Jeraldine, was born. I was four years old at the time. This completed our family (five children--three girls and two boys). We seven could all fit into one car or rather in the back of Dad's 1928 Chev. truck.

While living on this farm, my father was plowing one day. I was four or five years old at the time. I just kept asking and asking to ride on the plow until he got mighty tired of hearing me. So, he put me on the plow. When we got started back from the other end of the field, the plow flipped and took me with it. I was plowed completely under ground and the plow did to me as it does the dirt. My Dad was just frantic. He thought for sure it had killed me, or if not, it surely broke all my arms and legs and maybe more. He grabbed me out of the dirt. There I was dirty and plenty scared, but all that was hurt was my dignity.

Dad had a lot of chickens, but they got a form of chicken pox and died. So, he lost what money he had invested in them.

I kept going to the neighbor's to play when mother wanted me to stay home. To correct this situation, they took a long rope, tied one end to the tree and the other end to my overalls. They tied it in the back where the overalls cross so that I could not reach it to untie it. In a while, they came out to see how I was doing and probably gloat over their shrewd device, but all they found was a tree, a rope, and my overalls. I was over to the neighbor's playing.

One more experience I should mention was that before we moved I rode my tricycle down the basement steps. ('nough said)

We then moved to a home on South State Street in Orem, Utah. Here we lived in a small two room rock house. We had many enjoyable experiences here.

We had a German Police Dog named Fritz that was as old as I was. He lived to be about 12 years old, so you can imagine how I enjoyed him during my younger life and how attached I was to him. We made a harness for him so he could pull the sleigh. About every night during the winter, I would walk down to the corner where the Scera is now with Fritz and the sleigh. When Dad would come by going home from work, Fritz would recognize the truck (nicknamed "The Silver Streak" because of its color-not its speed) and run as fast as he could to keep up. It was usually a very breath taking ride, especially the turn into the driveway. One day, I walked all the way to the corner for this kind of fun, but as it turned out, it wasn't very enjoyable. Fritz saw the truck and was gone before I could get in the sleigh.

My Dad built a house at 262 South State Street, Orem, Utah. I spent many happy hours playing in the fields in back of our home. Dad finished off the basement, but the upstairs was not finished until later. Gordon and I had our bedroom up there.

One joke or incident they always kid me about is the party that I had at Halloween. Only girls showed up. I can't remember if I invited boys. Anyway, my family kidded me about that for years.

Another thing that happened which I'm not proud of, but it taught me a real lesson was the time that I talked back to my mother. She was on her knees mopping the floor. She had this soap bar in her hand and she through it at me, catching me in the pit of my stomach. I went down like a rock. It knocked all the wind out of me. When I first remembered anything, there my mother was with tears in her eyes, bending over me. I guess we both learned a lesson, but I learned the greatest one. 

I went to school at Spencer Elementary, which was located on the southeast corner of the intersection at 800 South State Street in Orem. The family got a real kick out of one of my school pictures that was taken while I was in the fourth grade. In later life, I looked at the picture and I had bib overalls on, and one strap was twisted while my shirt was buttoned wrong so that there was one button left over at the top. I went through grades one through six at Spencer.

The coach (Don "Sanky" Dixon) of the high school football team lived in my folk's basement apartment. When I was in the fourth grade and from then on, I was the water boy for the team until I started playing in the tenth grade. While in the fifth grade, I was fooling around in the high school gym, while the high school team was practicing basketball. I broke the index finger on my left hand, and it not only broke it but put it out of place. The doctor set it, but because it was broke at the joint, things didn't heal right and the rest of my life I had to adjust to a finger that couldn't bend completely.

I learned to swim when I was in the second grade. My mother, who was an excellent swimmer and diver, would get out in the water and before I could swim, I could dive. She would tow my back to the edge of the pool.

One swimming event that I should write about occurred in front of my parents place at 262 South State Street in Orem. We had a culvert in front of our place approximately 45 feet long. When the water came in the ditch, it would completely fill the culvert. For a long time, I surveyed the possibility of going through that culvert when it was full of water. I knew how long I would have to hold my breath, and I figured it could be done. The challenge just stayed with me for a year or so until one day, I just plain did it. Incidently, I was alone. After it was over, I felt so great that I had accomplished such a feat that I ran into the house and announced to my mother the great news. I was shocked at her reaction.