My life outside of my local neighborhood resided around one place pretty much summer after summer, and holiday after holiday. The place is kind of like a second home to me because of the time spent there. The place I am referring to is Timberlakes Utah. It was a settlement of cabins in a sagebrush and aspen filled area with a few evergreens located east of Heber Valley about 10 miles. We would load up the icebox with sandwiches and the water cooler and take about an hour drive from Salt Lake City. We were building a cabin on some land (about 1 acre) my dad had purchased for $8000. We would go up and I spend my holidays and weekends digging ditches, moving gravel, and doing a lot of wood carrying, and basically helping my Dad with his dream of building a cabin (which at this writing, isn't done) I guess looking back, it wasn't much of a weekend vacation, and I kind of hated going up there. I always thought, for the money he is putting into this, we could go to the Grand Canyon or someplace like that. I guess I kind of resented the cabin because it always seemed to come first in my Dad's life. I always felt like I didn't know anything when I was trying to help him because every time I was trying to learn something new, my Dad would get impatient and throw me out of the way so it could be done faster. For all the homebuilding and construction I saw, it is amazing to me how little I know. It really is kind of sad. I had more exposure to the trades than most people, but ask me how to build something, and I am clueless, and afraid to use a hammer almost.
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