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Show "What do," asked the Indian. "Go get him," replied Hilda. And he did. In 1890 the Ericksons had another child, John Parry, who was later to build the home in Grantsville his mother still lives in. THREE YEARS later the Ericksons moved back to Grantsville area to set up ranching and farming. They called their new home "The Last Chance" because someone had said it was the last chance on earth to begin ranching. How¬ever, they hauled logs from the mountain, built a house and barn, and soon the ranch gardens began to produce. Mr. Erickson soon was able to give to the man who derided their venture a squash so big he could hardly carry it. Later Hilda moved to Grantsville so the children could attend school, while her husband stayed behind to run the ranch. But when he was called on a church mission to Sweden, she took over both the home and the ranch. After her husband returned, in 1909, she and her son went back to her homeland for a three-month vaca¬tion, the first in her busy lifetime. BACK HOME in Grantsville this busy woman served her church in many capacities and in 1925 opened a general store which she managed for 21 years before selling it in 1946. At that time she was 85 years old. She has been an enthusiastic motorist since she got her first car—a Model T Ford. She drove regularly until she became involved in an acci¬dent—someone ran into her, not she into them, she related. At the scene of the mishap she was told "85? "You're too old to drive." "I'll be driving a long time from now if peo¬ple like you will watch what you're driving into" she retorted. But the state of Utah didn't go along with her and she lost her driver license. Some 40 years ago her leg became lame, and her physician said "If that leg doesn't come off, it will kill her . . . but it will kill HER if I take it off. Hilda, you've GOT to stay off that leg for several months." She was back with a favorite saying, "I don't have time," and she didn't. SHE STILL keeps plugging along, although her leg still gives her trouble. "If it weren't for the strong arms and wrists I got from pulling teeth, I don't know how I'd get along," she said. A tall woman, dignified and standing straight Salt Lake City, November 1, 1964 as an arrow, Mrs. Erickson still carries traces of red in her hair. She refuses to act her age, likes pretty clothes, loves people and her greatest joy is meeting friends. Recently she was asked to say a few words at a Swedish gathering. Except for a short visit, she had not been in Sweden for nearly 100 years, so it was an unexpected treat when she went on for half an hour in her native tongue. "When I saw all those Swedes looking up at me, I didn't have the heart to break up the at¬mosphere," she explained. SHE HAS BEEN photographed so many times in the past few years that she can't help needling the cameraman. For today's cover picture, her twinkling remark was, "Here I am doing every¬thing you want me to—so what's in it for me?" We can only hope that her friends dropping in to wish her well on her 105th birthday anniver¬sary on Nov. 11, will say, "We saw you in The Tribune and it will be worth the time she let us spend with her. Truly, this survivor of 80,000 is "one in a million." |