OPENING DOORS

Columbia River Washington LDS Temple 

Papa and I work at the temple on Saturdays.
We get to do many things to help many people.
We are very busy and come home tired but it can be fun too.

Temple workers are always available to help individuals and families that come to the temple. Yesterday a family had two adopted children sealed into their family. I was able to be with these young children and an aunt while they waited in the vestibule for their parents.

Yesterday was a very busy day. It seemed like every room and hallway were full of people quietly coming and going. As patrons came to the doors, many with full hands, I opened the door for each one and helped to ensure it closed quietly behind them.

The young girl, about age 4, watched the process repeatedly and then finally asked me, "Why do you open the door for them?"

I told her that it is because they are so special and important.  God is our Father in Heaven. He is a king and we are his children. Every person is his son or daughter. That means they can be a king or a queen like their Heavenly Father.

I think it would be a privilege to help a king or a queen or their children. Some of the closest companions of kings and queens, princes and princesses are their servants.

As a king or a queen would you allow servants to open doors for you, especially when your hands are otherwise occupied? And would you say thank you to them?

I asked her if she knew she is a princess.  She wasn't impressed.  I think this little prima donna already KNOWS she is pretty central and important as the youngest and newest of 10 siblings.

Do you think she understands she is a child of an eternal being?
Do you know God is your father?
Do you know you are special and important?

GOLDEN WEDDING ANNIVERSARIES

February is known as a time for 'romance'.

Recently my Aunt Ruth Horne sent me what I think is a very romantic news article. It is also a special tribute to our ancestors. She said the news came from Paul B Skouson's second book 'More Amazing Mormon World Records'.  The children of my grandparent's set the record for the most siblings to see Golden Wedding Anniversaries.

I have a snapshot of the couples taken in 1994 at the Seattle Temple. They attended a session together as part of a celebration of the 80th birthday of the eldest living brother.  Do you happen to have a copy that is more clear?

I quote from the news article dated May 2011:
" The Neil and Chloe Forsyth family have set a remarkable record in LDS living. All 8 of our Great grandparents lived in Nauvoo in the 1840's. Our parents and grandparents on the Forsyth line all celebrated their 50th wedding anniversaries. All seven of Neil's [living] children celebrated 50th wedding anniversaries. This year (2011) 3 of them will have celebrated their 65th."

George James and Sarah Sophronia (Snow) Forsyth [my father's grandparents] were married 31 Oct 1870 in Pine Valley, Washington, Utah. He was 26 and she was 18. They celebrated 57 anniversaries. They died within a month of each other in February and March 1927. My father was born that year.

Neil Snow and Chloe Roseltha (Hatch) Forsyth [my father's parents] were married 20 Dec 1911 in Salt Lake, Salt Lake, Utah. He was 32 and she was 25. They celebrated 51 anniversaries. She died at age 76 in 1962 just prior to their 52nd anniversary.

The oldest son of Neil and Chloe, Rex, gave his life in World War II.
His wife Ruth [Chic] made the ultimate sacrifice.
Her husband died fighting for our freedoms.

Thomas Rex and  Ruth Elizabeth (Campbell) Forsyth were married 9 May 1941 at Magrath, Alberta, Canada. He died at age 32 just before their 3 anniversary.

Neil Scott and Gladys Boyce (Butler) Forsyth were married 14 Decemeber 1939. They celebrated their 50th anniversary in 1989.

George Kenneth and June Hartley (Hinman) Forsyth were married 12 May 1943. They celebrated their 50th anniversary in 1993, a 60th in 2003 and their 65th in 2008.

Mylo Wilfred and Matilda (Maier) Forsyth were married 12 July 1946. They celebrated their 50th anniversary in 1996, a 60th in 2006 and their 65th in 2011.

Duane H and Verna (Neilson) Forsyth were married 3 April 1945. They celebrated their 50th anniversary in 1995.

Robert [Bob] Martin and Ruth (Forsyth) Horne were married 27 December 1945.  They celebrated their 50th anniversary in 1995, a 60th in 2005 and their 65th in 2010.

Garth Dean and Elna Jean (Campbell) Forsyth were married 14 October 1948. They celebrated their 50th anniversary in 1998, a 60th in 2008.

Byrce H and June Doreen (Volk) Forsyth were married 23 Feb 1955. They celebrated their 50th anniversary in 2005.

My mother's parents, William [Bill] David and Elna (Bohne) Campbell, were married 22 Dec 1926 in the Cardston, Alberta temple. He was 25 and she was nearing 18. They celebrated 63 anniversaries. He died at age 89 in 1990.

That is impressive - and romantic.
My parent's have been married 64 years this year.
They are an example to all of us.

The longest know marriage was an astounding 91 years. He was 12 and she was 14 when they were married. The longest marriage on record today is 87 years. The couple live in the United Kingdom. In New Mexico in the United States a living couple has been married for 83 years.

If you want to have a record breaking length of marriage you may need to live a LONG time. These people have all lived amazingly long lives.

There are some amazing World records for families having the most with the longest marriages.  I found such a record on a random blog when I was searching for some other links.  This family (non LDS) have a large family with 10 of their siblings all celebrating their Golden Wedding Anniversaries.

Although many of my ancestors did not live long lives, all stayed married to their spouses. That is a decision. That is work, and tenacity, and determination, and love - love for each other, love for their posterity and love for God and His commandments.

FOX AND GEESE

Winter was short this year.

We had one fierce storm for a couple of days.

The snow lingered a few weeks and then was gone.

No children visited during that time. 

A pristine white expanse remained untouched for days.

I didn't even venture out for pictures.

I watched the birds and weather from my windows.

I missed my siblings. All ten of them.

I remember playing Fox and Geese with them. 

We loved the simple game when such snow came. 

We could play the game for hours - many days in a row.

Sometimes only a few played. 

Sometimes we played with many friends.

The more 'geese' in the game the better.

I found instructions while browsing the January 1990 'Friend' magazine recently. I am not sure this is exactly how we played the game. I think we made up our own rules and variations depending on the crowd playing.

I remember being able to run to the fox's lair and 'free' a trapped goose - seems like there was a rule that we had to run hand in hand together to the safe zone before the 'goose' was free.  Meanwhile watch out - if the fox tagged you then you couldn't be 'freed' until you counted - perhaps to 100.  

Fox and Geese

On a large area of untouched snow, trample paths according to the pattern that you see here. The Fox tries to catch as many Geese as he can. Both Fox and Geese must run only along the paths (no jumping across!). Only one Goose at a time may be in the Safety Zone. When a second Goose runs to it, the one already there must leave. When the Fox tags a Goose, the Goose must go to the Fox’s Den until the Fox decides that he has caught enough Geese for his family’s dinner. Then the first Goose tagged becomes the Fox, and the game begins again.

Did you ever play Fox and Geese? 

What were your rules like?

How many kids usually played?

PET HYGIENE

Spring is coming.

Mostly I like spring.
It has one downside.

This is why 'pooper scooper' laws were made

Snow hides some undesirably, noxious things.

I do not own a dog.
No one in my house owns a dog.
LOTS of my neighbors own dogs.

I do not own a cat.
I do not have any pets of any kind.
I do not have any desire to pet or pamper yours.

Don't get me wrong - I love animals.
I grew up on a farm. We had lots of animals.
They lived outside or in the barns.
We fed them and loved and played with some of them.
But they were not generally allowed in the house.

My mother kept our home very clean.
There was dirt and dirty dirt.
Manure was dirty dirt - filth.
It was not allowed in our house.

If you had it on your clothes or feet you were not allowed in the house either. 'Barn clothes' were stripped off and hung up in a small entry at the back door and regularly scrubbed clean - that was a lot of scrubbing. There were 11 children and 2 adults helping to care for the animals.

And we were all taught how to be clean.
Even barns have to be kept clean from filth.

If barns are not properly cleaned animals get sick and die.
And animals on a farm are your livelihood!

Do you think our neighborhood is exempt?
Do you think you are exempt from disease?
Should filth proliferate on lawns and sidewalks?
Studies say it may even contaminate the air in urban centers.
Who should clean it up?

I notice hyacinth tips pushing through thawing flower beds.
We got the debris cleaned off and plants uncovered yesterday.
What else is a holiday for?

We also cleaned up the neighborhood pet toliet - our yard!

Animal feces of all sizes, shapes, and colors from our front yard.
This collection represents approximately 10 weeks.

Disgusting - totally disgusting: sickening actually.

We are going to try a product we researched online.
It promises to help animals not 'deposit' where it is applied.
We applied it to every cleaned spot.
That required an entire bottle.
There were a LOT of spots!
It is only effective for one week.

Do you really not understand what constitutes filth?
I see your dog sniff where the last animal eliminated.
I see them roll, and grovel and dig in it.
I see your animals lick excrement and even eat it.
And then I watch you smile as they lick you child's face.
And give what you call 'kisses' on your mouths!

You can have all you want of that any time - come on over and get it fresh! Don't wait for your dog to bring it to you in such small amounts - there is plenty!

YUM!!

I think you are deluded!!

But please don't try to delude me.
Your dog doo is not welcome in your yard - or mine.

It is filth. 

Responsible pet owners keep their homes, yards, neighborhoods, and parks clean - especially free of the filth of feces.

When I step in or smell the wide variety deposited so many careless places the first words that come to mind are not clean. I work diligently at not saying such words.

Riddle me this - why are there laws about such things?
To help me with my language?
To make your life more difficult?

NOT!!!

And BTW - remember -  if you ever feel like licking or eating excrement come on over - you're welcome to any you find in my yard.

SING A PSALM

Hymns strengthen and comfort us.

They help us praise God, pray to him and express joy.

They help us draw nearer to him and feel his spirit.

I have many 'favorite' hymns. As I hear them I feel more - more calm, less distress, more comfort, less grief, more gratitude, less greed, more awe, less downtrodden, more aware, less ignorant, more confidence, less doubt, more love, less fear.

As I read or sing them I remember more of all good and less of all else. [see Hymn 125 and several on either side of it in the LDS Hymn Book.]

Many psalms are recorded in the Old Testament of the Bible. Psalms 145:9 teaches us "the Lord is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works." As we remember blessings received it helps us through difficult times. 

A hymn may be thought of or referred to as a Psalm. 

2 Nephi 4:15-35 is often called the 'Psalm of Nephi'.

In this psalm or 'hymn' Nephi describes his despair at knowing that we all are 'fallen' and need the atonement of Jesus Christ.  He finds hope despite feeling 'encompassed about' by remembering how God has helped him in the past. 

Do you have a favorite hymn? 

Why is it meaningful to you? 

Do you sing or do you just listen?

Either may heal and lift.

In the February New Era David A. Bednar teaches about 'The Tender Mercies of the Lord'.  There is a 'tender mercy' journal suggestion.  It may help you to remember or discover ways God has blessed and helped you. It can be read or listened to.  Select the 'listen' link on the right side of the page link. You can print the journaling page in a variety of formats.

Elder Bednar teaches,

 “Some individuals who hear or read this message erroneously may discount or dismiss in their personal lives the availability of the tender mercies of the Lord, believing that “I certainly am not one who has been or ever will be chosen.”

 We may falsely think that such blessings and gifts are reserved for other people who appear to be more righteous or who serve in visible Church callings. I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are available to all of us and that the Redeemer of Israel is eager to bestow such gifts upon us ...

"God does not have a list of favorites to which we must hope our names will someday be added. He does not limit 'the chosen' to a restricted few. Rather it is our hearts and our aspirations and our obedience which determine whether we are counted as one of God's chosen"

... the Father’s work is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of His children. [Moses 1:39] Our work is to keep His commandments with all of our might, mind, and strength  [D&C 11:20] — and we thereby become chosen and, through the Holy Ghost, receive and recognize the tender mercies of the Lord in our daily lives."

What blessings might you call 'tender mercies'?

BROKEN GLASS

One careless moment, just one!

I have some water glasses.
They are every-day-nothing-special, for-the-table glass.
We keep them on the second shelf of the cabinet by the sink.
It is above the dishwasher.

This morning I was unloading the dishwasher in my typical routine.

My mind was churning out a million things to alleviate boredom and I certainly was not paying attention to the drudgery at hand.  Doing dishes is not among my favorite things - I don't hate it like when I was a kid, and I would sorely miss having dishes if they were gone (as disposables are also not among my favorite things), but dirty and clean dishes seldom, if ever, engage my full attention.

The cabinet door was just a bit less open than usual. As I lifted the last glass up it clipped the very edge of the door and smashed the top into small pieces that fell to the counter below.

My attention was riveted on the dishes now.

I was astonished.
 How was that even possible?
On the last glass?
Why not the first one or any other one?

Perhaps that riddle was what my attention was really on ...
but only for a second or two.

Suddenly I had half of a jagged edged glass in my hand.
I set it on the counter.

Experience with broken glass dictated several options of what to do next. If you are like me you know, absolutely know (with understanding of why), that you should never pick the pieces up with your bare fingers but I did it anyway and dropped them into the bottom half. Not in the slightest wise, certainly risk taking - ooohhh - can't you just feel the last cut you got that way? Whheewww! I did not cut my fingers, or thumbs. I was being quite careful though. I do remember the last slice I got by being so foolish.

Why do we take such risks?

Since you have likely broken glasses too, you also know that you will find pieces here and there for days (or even longer) in strange places. Knowing this I looked around and sure enough found several inside the dishwasher, on the floor, in the sink, and in the cabinet itself. Some were even so large I was surprised I had not initially seen them.

Experience also reminded me to not walk around in bare feet until the floor was carefully swept. I swept. I know how difficult it is to remove a glass sliver from a foot.

When I remembered that I decided to mop as well.

I finished the dishes and washed the counters. Over on the far right side of the sink, laying along its edge I quite unexpectedly found a pea sized square of glass. I really had thought I had looked around carefully and gotten them all - at least all the bigger pieces.

I ponder such things.

In just one moment a perfectly good glass was destroyed by careless neglect. It was not deliberate, but I took no thought.  I wonder how many other things in my day I do not take thought to regard. What other routines or interactions have become 'boring'?

Did I tell my husband I love him?
Do I act like I love him?

Did I talk with God?
Do I actually kneel and pray?
Every day? Do I pour out my heart?
Do I open my mind?

Did I tell him thank you yet?
Did I tell anyone thanks?

Did I listen - to anyone about anything?
Really taking thought?

Am I deciding - thoughtfully choosing what I eat, wear, say, make, accomplish or attempt? Or am I being careless and thoughtless?

A lack of balance may contribute to reduced mobility, obesity, and a host of other health problems that are exacerbated by our quick-fix-pill expectations. Mindless routines precipitate habits and lifestyles that damage self esteem and erode our abilities to perceive and receive counsel from God or man.

SMASHED marriages and families come from not 'taking thought'. The damage begins with one careless word or act.

Do we 'clean up' broken feelings as quickly as broken glass?

Perhaps they are easy to 'sweep under a rug' [push aside] in what we hurriedly decide for the 'short term." Later it seems to become progressively more difficult to gather up the pieces and not cause even more damage, yet a shard of glass laying unnoticed on the floor or inside the cupboard can never cause the harm of hurtful words or unkindness.

Sometimes we must 'clean up' repeatedly - even days, weeks or months after something is broken. Sometimes even years.

Did you ever find a piece of glass behind the frig or at the back of a shelf and remember what had been broken? Usually I just wonder what was broken or where it came from and how long it has been there. I am always glad if it can be swept up and disposed of safely.

Perhaps feelings are like that. Perhaps some shard lies in wait to hurt again when least suspected and I may  not even remember what or why. I do not study dust covered broken pieces of glass. I just throw them out so they can not cause anyone harm. Some old feelings ARE like that.

Do I have any feelings that need to be disposed of?
Taking thought to do so carefully will prevent more pain.
Maybe I need to mop out some nooks and crannies.

Perhaps I need to look again?
Have I swept carefully enough?

SARAH ISABELLE MCNICHOLL death

My husband's grandmother, Sarah Isabelle Shelton nee McNicholl died on 16 February 1955.

Death Certificate states Sarah died in Wenatchee, WA

My husband was a couple months old. His mother told him that he met her mother coming as she was going. I think it might have been very difficult to have my mother die when I had a new and nursing baby.

page from history of Clarence and Sarah (McNicholl) Shelton

We have a history a cousin, Patricia Shelton Erdmann, kindly compiled from memories written by Sarah's children, and the Bennett's - children of Sarah's sister. Sarah helped to raise the children and care for them after their mother, Lenora Bennett,  died 27 June 1927.

It helps us know many things about her life and character. What a marvelous thing for her children to have preserved for their children and grandchildren.

Program cover

Memorial Service program for Sarah Isabelle Shelton (McNicholl) 

She is buried in a Evergreen Memorial Park cemetery in East Wenatchee, Douglas County, Washington.

POETRY - FOR ME

Papa wrote me a poem for Valentine's Day.

At first I did not realize that he wrote it.

I should have known - he loves to write poetry.

To Your Beauty

You doubt when I say you are beautiful still

Please give head to my explanation.

What is the beauty we find

In the featureless faces of the youth?

Like pieces of paper as yet unlined

Awaiting the scribe’s writing of truth.

We seek out stories and poems

To read and ponder and discuss;

With such works we fill our homes

We memories them as ‘thus and thus’

And so it is with an olden face

Sculpted by lifelong adventures

It tells of labour, of love and grace

Which powders cannot censure.

It tells of babies which have been born

It tells of loved ones who have died

Of feelings felt, be they love or scorn,

Of plans made and of things tried.

The beauty of youth is the story untold

The face of innocent anticipation

The beauty of age is told and retold

It is a cause for great celebration.

Doubt not when I say you are beautiful still.

This truth needs no explanation.

DEAR 'Shel' (or George)

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you, 

Happy BIRTHDAY Kimber Casheeeellllyyyy

Happy Birthday tooooo yyyoooooouuuu!

When you were named I thought I might call you by your middle name, Cashel. It never really seemed to fit. I also thought I might just call you K.C. - that never evolved - you just simply were not a 'Kasey'.

Another nickname you had for a while was 'Shel'. When someone, usually me, called you by your full name it often just kept going a bit ... kind of a teasing kind of pet name - KimberCashelllyyy - from which evolved a short and simple 'Shel' because you never liked Shelly. I don't much do nicknames, so it never was used too often. I prefer to call people by their actual name. 

You had an uncle that called you 'George' for a while - I don't really remember who - or why, but it was George that constantly ate cookies. Your other name that superseded George was 'Cookie Monster' just because you could eat a lot of cookies/crackers very swiftly and without caring a lot about crumbs. You made us laugh.

Naturally someone gave you a stuffed 'Cookie Monster' 

And then suddenly we were doing senior pictures.

We were so amazed and proud of our beautiful, and talented daughter

and you graduated from your High School

at the top of your class

saying you had only gotten your feet wet.

You are still gorgeous, talented, and clever, have a family, and much, much more education. Are you swimming in the deep end yet?

Likely not - you always were one to keep your feet on rock solid bottom. However - as nice and realistic as that is, you are also one that dreams of flying like a bird. Be sure to let us know as you soar off to new horizons and vistas. As scary and as dangerous as it can be, there is a freedom and feeling that can not be enjoyed until you float a bit.

Lots of Love Mom and Papa

SWEET !! hearts

finished hor d'oeurves - ready to transport 

As stated previously, "I am not a sugar fan".

I am, however, a fan of 'cute'.
And generally (with a few exceptions) I like holidays.

Someone 'pinned' a yummy kid snack for Valentine's.

It made my brain perk right up.
It was NOT a cookie.
It did NOT have sugar as an ingredient.

I wondered if I could make it into a 'cute'  hor d'oeurve.
Could it be modified to look more grownup?
[But still be cute?]
How could it be bite size?
How could I eliminate the raw pasta?

I thought. I bought. I experimented.

What about ready made dough?
What about cocktail sausages?
What about Lit'l Smokies?
And what if they had a coupon? - Oh sure now they do!

The Lit'l Smokies are a workable idea.  I just cut them in half - more or less - on an angle. Make it a long angle. And if you need to, cut a slice out of the middle.

Each package has abt 39 ish.

Some are long. Some are short. Some are squished. Use them all. Get Creative.

This is art!

Flip one half.
Match cut sides.
Push cuts together.
Viola' - you have a heart!

I hated my first try. I used pre-made canned biscuits. I tried a little knot to hold them in place. The knot slid off. They tasted like - big surprise - biscuits. My husband liked them though.

I made a batch without knots. They still tasted like biscuits. I gave them to my grand-kids.

My daughter suggested a no brainer idea to hold the pieces together. What about frilled toothpicks? Sure enough, you can pick those up at the grocery store.

So I thought about and priced crackers.
Could I just pre-cook the Lit'l Smokies?
No way ... I am too cheap!
Snack Crackers are expensive.

A friend once gave me an excellent Crescent Roll recipe.
Thanks Caye. These are ALWAYS good.
And so easy too.

I made some dough.

I rolled it out and cut out some hearts.
Look at that - works just like making cookies.
Except you need to not stretch them.
Or let them raise too much before placing them.
Just cut out a few at once and then move to the pan.

REMEMBER - this is fun!

Let them be a little this way and that way.

Who said hearts have to be any certain shape?


I enjoyed matching hotdog shapes to dough shapes.

I filled 2 large pans full.
Each pan had about 20 hearts.
The basic recipe made about 80 hearts.

I cut the Lit'l Smokies after placing the dough hearts on the pans. The dough had started to raise a little. I pressed the 'heart' sausage into the centre of the dough heart firmly.

I cut the dough ball  in half, filled 2 pans with dough hearts, added the sausages, then did 2 more with the other half of the dough. Meanwhile the scraps I had kneaded into a ball from the first half had raised.

I rolled them once more. Those tended to 'distort' more and 'shrink' after cutting. No problem - they were just a bit more 'bite size'.

I covered them with a clean damp dishtowel, and put the pans in the cold storage area to raise overnight. It was late. I went to bed. And to sleep!  They raised in the cold about 5 hours.   I got up early. I brought them in the warm kitchen and turned on the oven. I set the timer. Not for the rolls - for me, silly - I went to sleep for half an hour while they both warmed up.

I baked them at about 350 ° F for about 10 minutes - just until golden. [My oven tends to bake a bit unevenly so I turned the pan half way through.] 

After baking I brushed the edges with melted butter (yes it has to be real butter). You can use shortening but that is what they will taste like. I like butter. As they cool the sausage pieces may seperate - do not worry ...

After cooling them I skewered the 'heart' sausage together with the frilled toothpick and put a wedge of cheese on the point.  They now look like Cupid's arrow has struck.

I refuse to tell you how to cut a triangle out of cheese. You can do it. TRY! This is supposed to be ... oh, never mind - just go cut cheese your way.

I shared these with coworkers. They loved them.

They wanted the instructions and recipe.
This is as close as it gets.

One lady is going to use them at a wedding!!

Use any recipe you like for dough.
I like Caye's. [see comments below]

And have a wonderful Valentine's Day.
If you make treats and give them to your 'Valentines' you will.
What - some of you don't think you have any??
How can that be???

Duh - you can go first!
Just do it!
Tell someone you love them.
Seriously!

And if no one sends you a Valentine why not make some for yourself?

Enjoy!

CURL

When I was a kid I was teased about my hair sometimes.

"Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear ..."

Rhymes that could be chanted were a delight.
NOT TO ME.

Kids at school could chant them ad nauseum.

"Once there was a little girl,
  and she had a little curl ..."

Even my loving and kind parents would quote the curl one.

My mother always 'finger curled' ringlets into my naturally curly hair.  At times she would hug me and perhaps give me a kiss on the forehead and say, "Once there was a little girl, and she had a little curl, right in the middle of  her forehead ..."

My mom loved me AND especially loved my hair. She loved to wrap it around her finger and 'pin' it to dry.

Most pictures show it neat and carefully 'guided'.
I say guided because I never could tolerate curlers.

My father quoted many things.
Scriptures, song lyrics, famous saying, and poetry.
He especially got a kick out of witty rhymes.

Sometimes he would scoop me up, swing around like he was dancing while singsong-ing that rhyme over and over again. He especially delighted in finishing the end of the rhyme,
"... and when she was good she was very, very good and when she was bad she was horrid."

I think he likely did that when I was being horrid.

He might look me straight in the eye.
He might modify the rhyme and repeat it a new way.
'... and when you are good, you are very, very good ...'

And then he might set me down.
I would feel determined to always be very, very good.
I felt loved - never horrid.

Sometimes I was horrid.
I cried buckets of tears about my hair.
I notice in many pictures bangs are VERY short.

this look was achieved by taping my bangs
 to my forehead until dry

The main problem was the curl in the middle of my forehead.
My mother told me often how lucky I was to have a "widow's peak".

my long hair pulled back tightly

That is a nice name for a double 'cowlick', in the front on a girl.

I had 2 ways to wear my hair - short or not.
'NOT' was pulled tightly back into submission.

about age 13 ish

Short always has some variation of a curl on the forehead.

about 15 ish

Styles dictated that hair should be straight and smooth.
I tried. I really tried. I truly really, REALLY tried.
I failed. My hair kept its kinks no matter what!

I still waffle - long  is always fuzzy ... ish ..

It keeps it kinks even now.
I often have a literal 'curl in the middle of my forehead'.
A curl that must always be 'guided'.

Hairspray, gel, and mousse coax it to a wave.
I can live with waves.

The curl changes directions occasionally.

I get out of the shower and towel my hair.
I wait a few minutes and shake it a bit.
Will it be left or right today?
I am never sure ...

Sometimes some of it goes left and some goes right.

One thing I do know.
There will be a curl in the middle of my forehead.

Still.

Always.

I promise to try to be good.
Very, very good.
And never horrid! [Fingers and toes crossed.]

VIOLA MELISSA PEARCE death

On 9 February 1899, in Alpine Arizona, my father's grandmother died tragically. Some family records state that, "Viola died in childbirth, when the midwife tried to rupture her water but punctured her bladder instead. Both mother and baby died."

I am so grateful for the medical miracles, medicines, technology, Doctors, nurses, and midwives that have helped my children arrive safely. So many unexpected things can occur so suddenly as lives hang in the balance during childbirth. 

In a short history, compiled by Mary H. Oviatt and Catherine D Hudson in 1965, I learned additional information about these courageous frontier women - both the expectant mother and the midwife that assisted. Stories and information for the short history were collected from Tom Hatch's children, Chloe, Victor, Norah, Della, Reed, and Grant, and recorded by Marie D Templeman. They also acknowledge the journal of Lorenzo Hill Hatch as a source of information.

" Each time a baby was due, it was Tom's duty to see that the team was ready to be hitched at a moment's notice to get Sister Jepson, who acted as doctor. It is hard to say to which the time seemed longest ... to the ones making the trip, or to the mother at home alone. Once when they entered they were greeted by the cry of the new baby - Victor."

I realized that the midwife was not inexperienced or foolish, and that she was doing the best she could when some unknown [to us] factor occurred. I also realized that a previous baby had been delivered safely before that midwife could come.

"In 1897, Tom embarked on a large business venture [cutting timber for mine props] on the Blue River, so he would have to work there. [ The Blue River arises near Alpine and flows south into the San Francisco River just upstream from Clifton Arizona] ... He had twenty-five six-horse teams working for him, and was doing a business of about three thousand dollars a month. He did very well for a while, but tragedy entered his life when he received word that his wife, Viola, was critically ill at home. He lost no time in returning and obtained a doctor."
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Special thanks to Tom Todd on Find a Grave for this photo

Viola is buried in Alpine, Apache County, Arizona.

My father's mother, Chloe, was 13 years old. Viola left her husband, Thomas Hatch, with seven children to care for.

about fall 1894

back row l-r : Thomas Hatch, Victor held by 

       Viola Melissa Pearce, Thomas Layfayette [Faye]

front row l-r: Chloe, Catherine [Kate],  Lorenzo[Wren], Mary

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A journal of her father-in-law, Lorenzo Hill Hatch, records,"Thomas ... and his seven motherless children visited in Woodruff.  My sympathies were touched very much. All of them are bright and as good as could be expected. He [Thomas] was a-going to leave two of them with us, but the oldest girl [Chloe] of thirteen said she could not sleep if she did not have them where she could care for them.”

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I note in this short passage that the children were 'bright and as good as could be expected' during this visit to their grandparents. I also notice that the oldest child is kindly caring about her siblings. I like to think that she learned such kindness and diligence from her parents.

I attribute much of my desire to be more Christ like to my Grandma Chloe's influence.  She was a very kind, gentle person. Did she learn that from her mother?

What life habits and ways of living did your mother or grandmother teach you? If you could teach an important concept or ideal to your child what would you want them to learn? How would you teach it?

ELNA BOHNE death

Elna Campbell nee Bohne
Died: 9 February 2003.

She is my maternal Grandmother.

She was the mother of 11 children, 5 girls and 6 boys.

Her obituary tells many things about her. She had many hobbies and talents. She gave continual loving service to all around her. She volunteered in the community and the LDS church. She loved her family and the outdoors. The obituary could have filled the entire page.

But there is no way to really describe how hard she worked or her verve.

A memory may illustrate character. When I was 14 I missed my school bus by getting on a bus to another town [Hillspring where Grandma lived] with a friend.  I spent the evening with my friend and then, when her family was ready for a meal and I was not invited, I went to Grandma's. Grandma took me in, and then asked me if my mother knew where I was at. She didn't wait for an answer when I hesitated. She picked up a straw broom and chased me all the way to the store where one of the few phones in town was located and made sure I called mom.

She made sure I knew she loved me enough to smack me with that broom if I did not obey AND I was fed, given a bed for the night and put back on the bus (to school in Cardston) the next morning with some stern instructions regarding appropriate behaviors and future possibilities (and probabilities) if I ever 'ran away' again. My grandfather slipped me a 5 dollar bill when she wasn't looking - for a 'lunch downtown with my friends' he said.

Grandma bound us each to her with an exceptional balance of plain spoken, genuine love. She did it with her unique ability to focus on each as an individual.

When family gathered for a meeting the night prior to her funeral the gymnasium at the Hillspring Church was filled with her posterity - and many were not even able to attend. The next morning the family prayer was held in a full chapel. Friends and associates that came for the service had to be seated in the overflow and gym (after folding doors were opened behind the chapel).

My brother Scott spoke at her funeral. He told about her happiness in living. He talked about the joy she experienced in her love of family and the truths she found in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  He reminded us of her love for each one of us and that because of Jesus Christ we will all live again someday.

She knew that. It gave her great happiness.

She also believed that because of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ her family can be together, even after death. She believed that through the sealing ordinances of the Priesthood that it is possible for families to continue their loving relationships forever.

Her greatest hope was always for her family to be loving and united. Family reunions were not saved for the year everyone could make it. They were held every year in the same location and everyone knew when and where, and that they were welcome to join the family 'camp' anytime that week - hundreds attended!

When 54 grandchildren marry and have families, numbers mount quickly. When they begin to marry, numbers increase exponentially.

One of my favorite pictures of her makes me laugh every time I see it. I wish I had a copy. She is 90 plus years old and getting around camp on a quad. What a role model!

The songs listed on her funeral program speak of her beliefs eloquently. The service opened with "O My Father" telling of God as a loving father and ended with "God Be With You Till We Meet Again".

A poem on the back of the program tells of a life well lived. A painting of Chief Mountain by her daughter, Jean - my mother, was placed on the front. This mountain is a prominent landmark in Southern Alberta. Her husband made oil paintings of it and sold them. It is an icon in the area.

In her family she is an icon. Her pervasive presence and example of determination and fortitude can be seen in  her descendants. I believe we will meet again. In my mind I imagine her bright eye piercing me through and through - sizing me up ... and then she will likely put me to work.