Where to start?

I guess I'll begin at the beginning, at least as much as I can remember. I'll give you a brief history of who I am and where I come from. I was born on April 3, 1957 (yah, I know I'm old) in Cardston, Alberta Canada to Glen William and Geniel Olsen Cameron.

I am the second oldest of seven children, six girls and one boy. Growing up in a small town definately has it's advantages. You know everyone in your entire school by name, and you have a reputation by the time you're four or five. That reputation can be hard to live up to or on the other hand to live down. I guess that depends on a lot of things. I loved growing up in a large family and wouldn't trade it for anything, not ever.

We had so much fun - whether it was ganging up on Kendall, my brother, by teaching him how to ask a girl out or shelling peas in the hot afternoon sun so we could go swimming with our friends who were either waiting patiently or glad that they got to help. I think some days they ate more than they shelled but still the same, it's a memory builder. My sister Cyndi and I are only fifteen months apart and so as you can guess we often kept our mother on her toes.

Cyndi and I were also the best of friends and the worst of enemies. Somehow we survived the scrapes and falls without any series damage and remain close to this day. If I needed anything I know Cyndi would bend over backwards (she really can bend over backwards) to help me. Now don't get me wrong, I know all my sisters and my brother would do that for me too but with Cyndi, it's like our hearts can talk to each other without saying a word and our souls understand each other without any explanations.

To this day she is an amazing woman, wife, mother and grandmother and I learn from her continually. I am so grateful for her and I love being her sister.

Cyndi was always getting away with something when we were kids. She was just so dang cute that all she had to do is bat her long eyelashes and smile that sweet little smile and I knew I was going to take the fall for both of us.

One Sunday afternoon in church she and I were being so naughty but we were avoiding our father's eye contact thinking that if we didn't look at him, he couldn't see us. At church my dad sat on the stand for several years either as the ward clerk or a member of the bishopric or even the bishop himself. If we gave our mother a hard time we knew the consequences. We either got a spanking that definately was not a little tap on the butt or we went to bed immediately without any supper. I can remember thinking and talking this over with Cyndi, who I'm sure was the problem in the first place (ha, ha) and deciding that going to bed without supper would hurt for a long time but a spanking would only last for a minute and then it would all be over except the crying.

I had to go first, always, age before beauty you know. So I was brave and took mine like a true whimp, but at least it was over - for that week. Then it was Cyndi's turn. My dad turned her over his knee and wacked her a good one but his hand hit metal and stung a bit. He looked in her pants and started to snicker. She had placed a pie tin stratigically over her cute little buns so that they wouldn't get hurt and the worst part about it was that they didn't. By this time my dad was chuckling so hard he simple sent her to her room and told her to stay there while they discussed what to do with her.

I can remember standing on the bathroom sink looking at my sore bottom in the mirror while my mom and dad laughed in the next room about how clever she was. Needless to say she got a way without the spanking, as a matter of fact so did Kendall because he had been naughty too and girls always went before boys. Still can't figure that one out, wouldn't it be more polite to let the girls go last? Oh well, I think she stayed in her room for a few minutes and then came out and laughed along with them while I cried and sobbed and complained about how unfair it all was. Her punishment was no more "I Love Lucy" that week, big deal eh?











It wasn't always easy being Cyndi's big sister. She was just so dang cute and I always thought she was perfect in every way. There wasn't anything she couldn't do. She has the voice of an angel, decided one day to teach herself how to play the guitar and did, was an amazing athlete and the best cheerleader any high school in the area had every seen.

It was hard growing up in her shadow, but that was just the way I perceived it. Now when we talk about our youth and I admit my insecurities she tells me I was wrong. She seemed to have all the confidence in the world and don't get me wrong, I was and still am so very proud of her. I didn't realize how hard she had to work at those things she accomplished and realize now that maybe if I'd have had the guts to try something new, I might just have surprised myself.

I remember the first year I was away at college. I got so homesick all the time it was awful. I missed my family and would have given anything to be able to go home more often. That year was tough and I learned a lot about myself back then.

The next year was Cyndi's first year and thankfully my parents managed to send us both to school. It had to be hard for them with tuition and housing and the allowance they sent us each month. I will be ever grateful to them for their sacrifice for us. The morning that mom and dad dropped us off at the Hart building for registration was incredibly hard. Dad gave us both a blessing at their hotel early that morning and then dropped us off to register.

I remember watching them drive away and waving goodbye. It was so hard. I have always hated goodbyes, and maybe that's why. Any way, I remember turning my head away so that Cyndi couldn't see the tears in my eyes, I had to be strong for her you know. After all I was the big sister.

I so enjoyed having her right across the courtyard from me. I wish she was still that close. We had an incredible year.

I love her so much! Cyndi is special to me in so many ways. She is a never ending example to me and I cherish and value her friendship. I'm so glad the Lord made us sisters. Friends will come and go but I know Cyndi will always be there for me. She's my hero, she's my little sis!