1945 Was An Eventful Year

In May of 1945 I "graduated" from Sherman Elementary School. There was no special programs, no sixth grade dance, no celebrations, and none were expected. All the "hoopla" was saved for high school graduation. Completing grade school was not considered that big an accomplishment. Anyone can do that without much effort. But I was excited to be going on to junior high school for the next three years where we would rotate classes (no boring teacher for a whole year) and could choose some electives. Actually, I had mostly good teachers that I liked at Sherman and can still name most of them. I was a conscientious student and found school to be quite easy, so I was not fearful of taking the next step up. But I think the best part of going to Olympus Junior High School for me was that it was located in Holladay which was about four miles from where I lived...too far to walk. For the past six years I had walked over a mile to and from school every day no matter how rainy, snowy, or cold it was. Now I would ride a bus that would pick me up at the top of my street. And back then it was free.

That summer my parents made the decision to sell our house and half of the property (the half where we kept the animals) and build a new house on the other half (the orchard and garden half). Our two bedroom house was just not big enough for J.D., my brother who was now almost five, to have a room of his own. It would take us over two years to complete the house as my dad did as much of the work as he could in his "spare" time to save money. Work began that fall shortly after school started. Since our old house was sold, we had to move back to Grandma Knapp's house until the basement, framing, and roof of our new one was completed. Then we would move into the basement until the rest of the house was finished. Life in that basement for over a year is another story I'll tell you about later.

The very best part of 1945 came in September when it was announced that Japan had surrendered and the war was over. My Dad was never one to voluntarily place himself in crowded or rowdy situations, but when that announcement was made he packed us all up in the car and drove to downtown Salt Lake. What a sight greeted us once we were able to get our car parked in Dad's printing shop parking lot. It was absolute bedlam in the streets. People were jammed shoulder to shoulder screaming, yelling, waving flags, blowing horns, laughing, crying, hugging, kissing. I will never forget that sight as long as I live. I am so grateful that Dad made what I know was a sacrifice to give us this opportunity to celebrate our country's victory over the evil powers that had plagued the world for so long. But I really think he enjoyed it, too, even if he didn't admit it. Things would slowly get back to normal. No more rationing and collecting, and "war" bonds now became "victory" bonds because money was still needed. Oh how I wish that this generation and all new generations could experience peace in the world as we had then. But I'm afraid that there will be no end to war somewhere in the world until the Savior comes again to bring it to an end. I look forward to that great day.