Too Many Moves To Count

Moving day at my house was far too often for me.

Although my parents and older siblings lived in previous houses, the very first one I remember was the house at Belk Road in Tauriko, New Zealand. Here we lived on a dairy farm way out in the country on a dirt road. The house seemed quite small, with a tall unruly hedge all around the property, and two lovely septic tanks out in back. The main memory I have of this home was of the old telephone that we children could use to call and talk to any nursery rhyme or fairy tale character we wished. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my Father also had a phone at the cowshed, where he would answer our calls and do the voices of the character we’d asked for. Mother Goose was always the operator, and then she would put you through to whomever you had requested.

When I turned five we moved into town, to the 11th Avenue address in Tauranga. The house was done in white stucco, and situated on a large corner lot with many citrus trees in the back. On one side fence, my brothers had built a fort, so when they got into a neighborhood fight, they could throw citrus fruit, and immediately take cover from incoming ammunition. This house was central to a shopping area called Faulkner’s Corner, the beach at 6th Avenue and a swimming pool and park. Here we had a party line, and I still remember well our phone number which was 104D. Each household in the party had the same number, but a different letter, and Morse code was used so you would know when it was your ring. Our ring was Dah Dit Dit. In order to know if the line was clear you had to pick up the receiver, and if you could hear someone talking you knew it was busy. It was a great way to pick up a little gossip. At these times my brother Warren enjoyed picking up the receiver and in a loud voice saying “Get off the line – there’s a train coming!” after which he would hang up and we would burst into gales of laughter. The anonymity of the whole thing was quite powerful.

We lived there for about four years, and then in my ninth year we moved to Ranch Road in Mount Maunganui. This was also a white stucco house up on a small hill, about a block away from a shopping center. These were grim days for my family as my parents were bickering and fighting almost nonstop. My brother Warren slept in a bach in the back yard. (A bach is a bedroom separate from the house, and the word bach is a shortened form of the word bachelor.) So usually it is a one room bedroom containing a twin bed and maybe a chest of drawers. At the time we moved to this house Warren was really into trains, so he and I (11 & 9 yr olds) wallpapered the room in a train motif. In our eyes it looked perfect! I wonder what we would think today.

The next home that holds memories for me is a two story twin home at 8th Avenue in Tauranga. My parents were now separated, and my three siblings and myself were living here with just my Dad. A great memory I have here is of my good friend Glenys Pilbrow and I planning elaborate midnight feasts. She would come for a sleepover, we would gather up piles of yummy treats, and then set the alarm for twelve midnight. After giggling ‘til we fell asleep, we would be awakened by the alarm only to be able to groggily eat about two bites, after which we would fall sound asleep. We would awaken the next morning to a bed full of smashed treats and a new resolve that the next time we did this we’d stay awake for the midnight feast. It was here at the 8th Avenue house that our family first met the missionaries and joined the church in 1961. The humble testimonies of Elder Keikuaokalani and Elder Gary Stenzel were powerful witnesses to us at that time.

The next move for me and my brother Warren was to Hamilton, where we were sent off to boarding school at the Church College of New Zealand. This was actually a High School run by the LDS church. I was twelve years old at the time, and my brother was fourteen.

After a year there, my Dad remarried a much younger Maori woman by the name of Matina Isla Matthews, and moved us to the small railroad town of Taihape, situated smack in the middle of the North Island of New Zealand. The saying was that “In Taihape, everyone dies happy.” Here our first home was on Kuku Street, and then we moved again to Moa Street.

After that year I returned to C.C.N.Z. and stayed three years to complete high school and graduate. During this time my Dad and stepmother moved a few more times.

When I finished high school my Dad and stepmother were living in a suburb of Auckland called Manurewa. Here they lived at 146 E. Great South Road, and by this time had three young boys of their own.

At seventeen years of age I moved into the Nurses Home at Middlemore Hospital in Otahuhu. Here I began my nurses training and made friends with Faye Walker, a dear friend, who remained just that until the day she died of brain cancer.

At the invitation of a former high school teacher (Arlene Holyoak) I ventured across the Pacific to Klamath Falls Oregon to live with her on High St. I was twenty-one at the time, somewhat lost and adrift. I was here in the US on a visitor’s visa, so hoped to make the most of my six-month’s stay. She mentioned that she and a group of friends soon would be travelling to Utah and would I like to come. We stopped off at BYU where she recommended I make application. I took the ACT, filled out all the forms, and was granted an interview. Everything fell into place, and I knew it was meant to be. Within days I was accepted, and now had to wait for a visa change from visitor to student status. These were the good old days when visa changes could be made while you waited in the country, instead of having to wait back home. The change was granted, and now here I was at BYU living with roommates. Over time I lived in three different apartments at BYU and worked at the Alumni House to make my way.

It was while working at the Alumni House that I became familiar with Virginia Riggs who became my supervisor. Somehow she sensed that I was not enjoying roommate life, so she invited me home for the weekend. I ended up staying with she and her husband Don at their Oakcrest Lane home in Provo for two years, and she became my adopted Mother. I truly felt like I had come to live at the Palace. Their home was not only beautiful, but also peaceful and stress free, something I had longed for all my life.

Don and Virginia soon introduced me to Leland, and I think things are still working out, as this week we just celebrated our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Together we first lived in a little apartment on sixth north and sixth west in Provo, and after a year we moved to our current home in Grandview on 1700 North. I’m so grateful that our starter home has now become our retirement home, and that Leland doesn’t have the need or a penchant to move often.

There were many other moves in my young life, but these were the most memorable. About twenty years ago when we took our girls back to New Zealand for a visit, Leland was amazed that I remembered so many of the old homes. We’d drive up, hop out, take a picture in front of the house, then drive off. To the casual observer looking out the window we must have appeared crazy.

I never really enjoyed moving. I found it very unsettling, and with a naturally shy personality I loathed being the new kid at school on a regular basis.

We’ve lived in this home for thirty-six years now, and I don’t mind staying here for another thirty-six. (Well maybe not – I’ll be ninety-six.)



Hilda S. Gamette
March 24, 2010