The Ranch

In the spring of 1989, I was twelve and was just finishing the 6th Grade when Sunnie Titmus offered me a job working on their ranch east of Grantsville. I had grown up knowing Sunnie and his wife Janae (the ranch and the sheep were actually owned by Janae's dad, Hatch Howard. Oil had been found on some of Hatch's land. He would quip, "If you want to make a fortune in the sheep business, strike oil" and "If you want to make a small fortune in the sheep business, start out with a large fortune"), as they were in our ward. But I don't remember any specific interactions that I had with them prior to going to work for them. (As I was typing that sentence, I had a memory of a trip we took to stay at the ranch in Evanston along with the Tripps and Chatwins, but I still don't remember a specific interaction with Sunnie or Janae. I do remember catching a whole bunch of frogs). But apparently I had made a good, or at least adequate, impression.

My parents were pretty happy I was being given this opportunity. My mom didn't work at the time and there were six kids (McKell wouldn't have been born yet) and at twelve, it was high time I started pulling my weight.

Shane Allred and Mike Larsen were four years older than me and both had already worked there for a few years. Sunnie was bringing me along as the next generation.

I remember going the first day, which I remember as being a Thursday (not sure if that's right, but that's what I'm remembering (I would see it felt like Thursday, but Thursday has no feel). I don't remember exactly what we did that day, but my guess would be that we moved sprinkler pipe. I do remember that I didn't like it...at all. It was hot and there were mosquitoes and gnats, and the pipes were heavy. Wasn't what I thought of as a good time.

I was supposed to go back the next day, but I believe when I got home from school, I threw myself onto my bed and started crying and basically refused to go. Later that night, after I had calmed down, I went with my parents to Sunnie and Janae's to talk with them about the job. I don't remember what was said, but I came back the next day and to the best I can recall, I never missed another day, at least not without permission.

Not that I suddenly became a stellar employee (I don't know that I was ever a stellar employee). I remember some struggles I had that first summer. I've detailed some of my driving mishaps elsewhere, but I also have a memory of doing something in Titmus' backyard with a wheelbarrow and they were gone and whatever I was doing was very hard, and tears were flowing again. Another time I was supposed to clean out the sheep pens (I was again on my own that day) and I had a hard time with the smell (and probably just with the work) and would frequently stop cleaning the stalls and go outside the barn to get some fresh air. At some point, Sunnie returned and I went out to talk to him. He asked if I was done. I had cleaned maybe four pens out of what seemed like 100. Sunnie said he'd take me home.

When I was moving sprinkler pipe, I always did better when I was with Mike and Shane (probably because they would do most of the work in that case). If I got dropped off to move a field myself, I would work extremely slowly, in hopes that Mike and Shane would finish what they were doing and come and help me finish. I also wasn't great at keeping the lines straight as I would move the pipe. You were supposed to pick a point that was straight from the riser and aim each pipe toward that, but I think I pretty much dropped the pipe as soon as I got it moved, without paying much attention to where it was pointing. I remember I was working on moving a line one day and Sunnie came out to me in the field. Mike and/or Shane wasn't there that day so he told me that no one was coming to help me. And then he said that I needed to keep the line straighter and we both looked back to see the pipe I'd already moved swerving every which way. Finally, he told me that he knew the pipe were heavy and I could take my time when carrying the pipe, but that when I walked back to get the next pipe, I needed to walk quickly. He didn't raise his voice at all or even speak angrily, just made it clear that I wasn't meeting expectations. (When I got older, I would run back to pick up the next pipe, not always an easy feat when the alfalfa was high).

I finished out the year (I made $1,359 dollars that year. My memory is that I was paid $4/hr, and typically I'd only work in the morning, helping to move the sprinklers, and then be done at noon. I remember the conversation I had with Sunnie and him asking me how many hours I was thinking I should work. I first asked him how long Mike and Shane were going to work, to which he replied, "from six in the morning until six in the evening." So I told Sunnie that I should probably work 6-8 hours a day, but he came back and said 4-6. We'd typically start at 8, and most days we'd just move the water in the morning and then I'd be done). But even though I'd made it through the year, I think neither Sunnie nor myself was sure if this was going to work out and if I would be back the next year.

The spring of 1990, Sunnie didn't reach out and neither did I until finally, I think at my dad's urging, I called and asked Sunnie if he was planning on me working for him again this year. I honestly don't know if he had been planning on it or not, but he said yes and we arranged a day for me to start work. That year went better and I don't remember there ever being a question again as to whether I would be back the next summer. I also don't remember if it was this summer or the next, when my buddy John joined me working on the ranch (Mike is John's brother and Shane is his cousin).

Some of the random things I remember about working on the ranch. Ten, two, and four was Dr. Pepper time. We'd take turns going to Jr Mart and buying donuts for everyone. Sunnie always saying "good enough for the girls we go out with" when talking about a job we'd finished. I also remember him sighing, "Awwwww heck." I also remember at the end of the day, when it was time to go home, he'd say "hasta manana." In the spring, during lambing season when the sheep and the shepherds were at the ranch, we'd eat breakfast and lunch in the bunk house. Before they eventually moved to ton bales, I remember stacking hay in the barn by hand and sending it to the top of the stack on the hay elevator.

It was working on the ranch that I learned about docking sheep and how it entailed castrating the males, by someone removing the testicles...with their teeth (and yes, I have done it, but only once). I remember that Mike and Shane would change out of their irrigation boots after we'd finished moving water into shoes that weren't so hot and heavy, but I was content to continue doing whatever else we were doing in my irrigation boots.

While there were plenty of times we screwed up or didn't do as good of a job as we should have, there was only once I remember that Sunnie got angry with us. Typically, we'd park whatever truck we were using at the edge of the field and mostly walk to move the sprinklers, but for whatever reason, on this occasion John and I were being lazy and drove his blue truck out into the field. We weren't careful enough and drove it into an area that was muddy from being watered and got the truck stuck. "No big deal," we thought. "We'll just go get the big tractor and pull the truck out." So we walked back to the ranch (which fortunately wasn't far) and got the big tractor and drove it back out to pull the truck out. I specifically remember saying to John while we were driving over, "There's no way we're getting this tractor stuck." But we did. I got out and was guiding John as he backed toward the truck, when suddenly one of the rear tires sunk deep into the mud. John quickly shifted and tried to pull forward, but the tire just spun and sank deeper. Our hearts sank as we realized this had now turned into something more serious.

We made our way over to the field where Sunnie was cutting or baling. Unknown to us, he had been watching the whole time. As we approached him, he said "Looks like you've been doing a good job over there," with an edge that we were not accustomed to. "Getting the truck unstuck is no big deal, but getting that tractor out is going to take some work." He then asked if we had got the water turned on in another field that we were supposed to be getting turned on. When we told him we hadn't, he said we'd better go do that.

After getting the water back on, we went and found Sunnie at his house, assuming we were going to be fired. (Another subtext of all this is that football had started and unlike later generations of kids who worked for Sunnie, we continued to work even during two-a-days. We'd go to practice in the morning, then go and move the water during the day, and then return for the evening practice. Because of everything that had gone on, we were getting close to needing to leave to get to football practice). Sunnie still wasn't happy but I remember him saying "I guess you guys will learn" and then after some further conversation, finally saying "hasta manana," confirming that we weren't fired after all. As I recall, John and I each quickly went home, changed clothes, and went immediately to football practice.

My buddy Aaron came to work with us on the ranch the next summer and on one of the first days, he got one of Sunnie's trucks stuck in another field (again we were being lazy and driving when we probably should have been walking). Probably having been told about the incident with the tractor, he became increasingly desperate to get the truck unstuck, and eventually removed his shirt and tried to shove it under a tire to get traction (it didn't work). On this occasion, Sunnie eventually came and pulled us out, without even a hint of irritation.

Another of my favorite memories of my time on the ranch was when I went and stayed for a week at the cabin in Evanston with just Julio (another long-time employee) to build a fence. It was just the two of us for the whole week. I stayed in the cabin and he stayed in his sheep camp. For the most part, there was nothing to do, but work. I remember on one of the days, we drove into town, and Julio bought me McDonald's. On another day, some cows had got out of where they were supposed to be and we had to go and herd them back into the right field. I had ridden a horse before, but not for years. I remember Julio telling me I needed to ride along this ridge "pretty fast" to get in front of the cows and turn them back the other way. I still distinctly remember the theme from "The Man from Snowy River" running through my head as I rode trying to head off the cows. We were able to get the cows back where they were supposed to be. I also remember there being a TV and a VCR in the cabin and there was a "Best of Johnny Carson" VHS there that I watched one of the nights.

Working on the ranch was a defining experience of my life and played a large part in the person I became. Sunnie, Janae, and Hatch were all huge influences in my life and have been lifelong friends. Before I went away to college, with my dad unable to at the time, Sunnie ordained me to be an elder. Hatch provided financial support for me when I went on my mission. And Sunnie, Janae, and Hatch all came and saw me in Mexico City while I was on my mission (they knew someone who was living at the Church-owned Benemerito and arranged for me and another missionary (Elder Fletcher) to go visit them and watch the BYU/Utah game with them).

Grateful for each of them and the positive influence they have had on my life.