When Mom was expecting another baby (I didn’t think I was doing such a bad job as the only child, but they had this notion that they wanted to try for another child as good as me, I think) Dad started building us a house. Dad writes:“We were living in a room that was 9 feet by 11 feet and with our second child on the way, it would have been crowded. I got the roof on and the doors and window frames in and then on my next three days off I was going to wrap the house with the paper and wire so that it could be plastered. About this time we were also wrapping the handball court down at the fire station. By helping at the fire station I thought that I could do the wrapping at my place. I go by the reasoning, that if someone else can do it, I can do it. Maybe not as fast and sometimes not as good, but I can do it. I've felt this way ever since I was on my honeymoon and that guy in the garage fooled me into thinking that he could do it cheaper than I could do it myself.
“On the 10th of February 1949, we moved into our own home. It was just a year and a day after I started work for the City. That must show something. We didn't have anything but a beat up old Ford when I joined, and now we still have a beat up old Ford, but we also have the frame of a house.
“It sure took a lot of heat to keep the house warm, and I sure have to give my wife credit again for putting up with the way we had to live. All we had inside was studs and ceiling joists. We could walk right thru the walls anytime we wanted to. We didn’t have much privacy but we were in our own place and all we owed on it was about $1700 counting the interest. The house with the paper on the outside was sure cold.”
Maxine Rose Kemsley came into this world on April 22, 1949, as my little sister. It took me 22 months to gain the status as big sister, and she just pops out as a little sister; no working at it at all. 
I don’t remember much about her early years except that everyone thought she’d end up going to college with her finger in her mouth. Some of the devices to “help” her quit sucking her finger were pretty gruesome. There were nasty tasting liquids, boards taped to her finger, band-aids, stockings and even a spring wound tightly around that finger, but I guess they all just added to the fun for her. She finally quit when she was good and ready and grew up with some pretty nice teeth.
My memories of Miki (spelling changed from MICKEY because we called her M-i-c-k-e-y Mouse and she hated that) were constant sisterly fights and quarrels. I didn’t like the way she “borrowed” my clothes without asking and then stuffed them under her bed when she was through wearing them. It never seemed to bother me that I didn’t take care of them, but if she didn’t hang them up, I fumed. We usually shared a bedroom and it almost always looked like a couple of rats lived in it. One day mom cleaned our room and swept everything into the center of the room in one BIG pile. We had to clean the pile before we could do anything fun. It was torture, but even after that first time, we still found many piles in our room with a very unpleasant afternoon ahead of us.We weren’t very good friends through our dating years. Miki was always called “The Pretty One,” while I was “The Fun One.” Some consolation! We switched boyfriends a few times, mostly with bad feelings. Finally I went to BYU and the separation did wonders for our relationship. She went to college, too, and worked for a while and did a lot of growing up. I did a lot of mellowing and after we were both married, we finally became friends. I hate to think of all the years wasted in not “knowing” her, because she is a very special woman. She has had her trials and has always come out on top. I gain strength from her in that respect. Her phone calls, visits, and letters mean a lot to me. Yep, we wasted a lot of good years.
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