There was a small home next to my grandmother’s place in Clearfield, Utah. A strange man would hang things from the tree in the backyard as I looked on in curiosity. As I got older, I learned that this man was my Uncle Wally and that he was engaging in the traditional Shoshone practice of drying and tanning deer skins. I was fortunate to visit Aunt Hazel and Uncle Wally from time to time. I’ll never forget the smell of buckskin and beads. The little house no longer stands. Aunt Hazel and Uncle Wally have passed on and the city tore the house down. Current neighbors will never know what took place at that little home, but the memory will always exist in my mind.