WILLIAM DAVID CAMPBELL death

Died:  13 July 1990 Cardston, Alberta, Canada

Buried: 17 July 1990 Hill Spring, Alberta, Canada

Before my maternal grandfather passed away a few circumstances that were a bit unusual occurred. My grandmother had an appointment with a heart specialist. Grandpa, was to all appearances a very healthy 89 year old.  One of my first cousins had driven them to that appointment. Grandpa had a massive heart attack there at the hospital in the waiting room and was quickly attended to and eventually resuscitated.

Grandpa was not expected to live and visitors were limited to his wife and 10 living children. They were permitted to visit with him for a very short minutes each, one or two at a time, for those first few days. He was a man of strong mind and body. He continued to live for several weeks despite minute by minute medical predictions of demise. 

I paraphrase here an interesting story from shortly after he awoke, as I heard it from several sources. It seems that he was ascending a long stairway and at the top of it were his mother and father with their arms reaching out to him. He said that Parley Merlin and Pearl, his deceased brother and sister, were also there and so was Uncle Ted, a brother he was very close to, and many others he knew and loved. I heard several family members say that he kept saying how good Uncle Ted looked, and that he was still wearing 'that same brown suit'. They were all crowding forward in excitement to see him and greet him but he realized the Grandma Elna was not at his side. He wanted her to share that reunion with him but she was not with him. Finally he noticed her at the foot of the stair and motioned repeatedly for her to come and join him. He was very cross with her, and kept asking her why she would not come, because he felt he could not go without her by his side. 

Elna and Bill [William David] Campell

What a wonderful thing to know how deeply he loved and cherished his wife. How wonderful to know loved ones wait there for us with longing and excitement at the prospect of our coming. I think of excitement in our family at the arrival of a new baby. We bring and send gifts and greetings and are delighted to see pictures or hold them in our arms. Our family, that we miss so much now they are gone, surely watch for us to join them there.

During those last few weeks of life his many, many grandchildren were permitted to begin to visit him in ones and twos, oldest to youngest. I am somewhere in the middle. My turn never came and I never felt like I got to say good bye. At his funeral, I lingered at the chapel after the family left the viewing to go next door to Uncle Allen's for supper. Eventually I was alone with him and the potted plants and other flower arrangements. I needed that time there. 

My grandfather was a big man. Years in the timber, and of hard physical labor, made him rugged and strong but he looked slim. He was so tall that you never noticed how broad he was. He filled his coffin end to end and side to side; his white hair touched the top of the casket and his shoulders grazed each side. Someone later told me that a larger custom build casket would have taken weeks to order and been very expensive. I was glad his last moments showed what a big man he was. 

William David Campbell in camp at Westcastle

Grandpa Campbell, to me, was big in every way: he was kind and gentle and soft spoken, except when he threw back his head and laughed. His laugh just boomed out of that man as grand as he was. His sister Elsie told me once that their father laughed the same exact way. 

He had a wonderful sense of humor. As I stood there by his casket, at a loss of how to say good bye, I suddenly heard a sound like water running. Startled I looked around trying to see what I was hearing. It sounded very near. Just then my cousin, Barry, came in. We espied a single stream of yellow water shooting out from the bottom of a potted plant, onto the floor from about waist high. It looked like the plant was relieving itself. We laughed and laughed and laughed.  It was the kind of joke Grandpa might have thrown back his head and laughed about. I felt like we had said good bye but were still connected by the threads of family that can never be broken. 

Funeral Program of William David Campbell

- I came to know because of these things that happened at the time of my grandfather's passing, of the reality of life beyond here and now. I look forward to the day when I leave behind the pains and cares of this world to be greeted by loved ones there. Maybe he will greet me. I can just imagine that: his eyes would light up and a smile would tug the corners of his lips wide. As I think on it I can almost feel his strong arm pulling me close to his side as he sometimes did - and I would need to reach up and up to put my arm around his waist. 

I know, because of Grandpa Campbell, that we do not cease to exist when we meet death and we will live in happiness in that place, 'at the top of the stairway' with those that we love. They wait there for me.

62 AND COUNTING

Today,
14 October 2010, my parents will have been married
for 62 years.

They expect to remain together forever,
through life and after death - through all eternity.

I have one outstanding, wonderful memory of my parents from 1980. It is from the day their house burned to the ground. I remember my father putting his arms gently around my sobbing mother and beginning to sing softly in her ear:

"Hey, hey, good lookin'
Wa-what-cha got cookin' ..."

And then they laughed, so did all the firefighters, neighbors and family helplessly standing by.

I don't even know if that memory is real.  Was I there? or did I only hear someone describe it? I was somewhere: I just honestly don't know where at that exact moment - doesn't matter, really.  It is as alive and real in my memory as if I were there. I can still smell the smoke and see the glowing red of our burning house as piece by piece it fell into the basement pit that would glow for days.

1980 - sigh - too many memories there, but this one memory of my parents I sift from the others and cherish.

May 19, 1980 dawned beautifully sunny in Southern Alberta.  As we ate breakfast, sent the children out to play, and began a typical 'small-farm-Monday-in-the-spring' busy day we did not know of an event that had occurred in Washington State that would impact our own lives. At 8:32 a.m. PDT on Sunday, 18 May 2010 Mount St. Helens catastrophically erupted.

Television signals did not really reach under the hill to the small rural property, in the quiet valley we called home, and news on the radio usually consisted of hearing the latest prices for wheat, rye or alfalfa hay, and cattle or hogs. That day, and the next, were not different - the radio had no unusual news.

New home on same site

About 10 a.m. MDT that Monday morning a strange murky white haze appeared in the SW over the mountains. As I stood looking out the west kitchen window, watching some of my children and several of their cousins playing outside, the haze quickly became a cloud and suddenly the day became oddly overcast - not dark, not cloudy. It did not feel or smell like rain.

Soon an extremely fine, powdery, grayish white dust began to be visible on dark woodwork. We puzzled and thought and discussed what it might be. We gathered into the house and closed off doors and windows but in that old farmhouse it made little difference.  The dust continued to filter in.

Was there a disaster?
A bomb?
Was the world as we knew it ending? changing?
WHAT? Especially the dust!
Was it dangerous?

My mother continued to work outside planting and then watering some poplars near my brother's across the valley. She said it wasn't making her cough or affecting her in any noticeable way so until she was told otherwise she had work to do.  She did agree the children should be sheltered and suggested calling the local radio or TV station.

Noon became as dark as most evenings at dusk.

Local media knew nothing. Signals originated from approximately one hour north in a larger city and the day there was still clear and sunny. Even later in the afternoon they still had no news except what people in our area were calling to tell them.  Although we stayed indoors for the remainder of that day no answers could be found. There was no Internet, no Google, no Ask.

Eventually we learned about the volcano.
Was the dust safe to touch? inhale? No one knew.
The skies cleared, the sun returned.
We dusted and life went on as always.

Until June.

Several rural families in the immediate area (at least 4) lost their homes to fire without apparent cause that spring.  One insurance agent speculated that volcanic dust had settled into everything and may have shorted out ancient electrical wiring.  My parents home of 30+ years was one.

THAT was a strange day.  The baby was already down for a nap when my mother called up the stairs and asked me to accompany her to town.  I was reading my 4 year old our usual pre-nap story. I told mom, "no, too much trouble etc. etc." She went to the truck, and then returned to the house and called to me again.  She just 'felt' like she needed me to come. I finally loaded up the baby, and a very 'happy-to-skip-a-nap' preschooler, to go to town - a 15 minute drive.

Later on, while we did business and errands, a man walking down the street said to my mother in passing, "Jean, was that your house that burned in Kimball today?"

In my heart I knew it was.  I think she did too. We went immediately home. We could see the column of smoke away and over the foothills as soon as we left town. My mother drove. My father was many hours away at work. He often worked out of town and returned on weekends or even only once a month.

There was little water from their shallow wells. Everyone did all possible - it was as nothing in quelling the roaring orange and yellow swirling flames.

Late afternoon had not quite given way to early evening when my father arrived.  Most of my 10 siblings had come quickly. The one that lived across the valley was there from the onset. His wife helped care for the children. I remember I stayed there with her mostly, but otherwise we stood around at a distance not really knowing what to do or say.  The neighbors stayed too, and came and went - so many people! So much coming and going - and already they were bringing whatever they thought we might need.  (Meals were provided around the clock for several days, at first to all the family  and firemen, and then to all helping hands.)

We knew dad was on his way.  Kind friends had tracked him down and called.  His boss owned a small plane and flew to the nearest airport.  I suppose we just waited.

My father and mother often sang; as they worked, as they drove to and from here or there, and especially as they relaxed.  An evening bonfire gathering was always an occasion for song, we knew many, our family often sang. My father used quotes and songs on all occasions. He loved to tease and sang many teasing love songs to mother.

His heavy cowboy boots drug into the gravel before the truck halted completely.  He went directly to mother and wrapped his arms around her from behind before she even knew he was there.  He was just shy of 6 feet, she was barely 5'2" - the top of her head did not even clear his shoulder.

As he began to softly sing, at first we could hardly hear. Then, as she turned to him, we heard his voice as she laughed - "Hey, hey good lookin', wha-whatcha gotta-cookin" - we all laughed. We still laugh.  That song has become an 'inside' joke ... a 'time-of-trouble' comfort to fall back on - it is an easy and answerable question - "Hey good lookin' - whatya got cookin'?

I have been born of choice 'goodly' parents.

Their powerful examples of faith and fortitude have continued.  With good cheer and determination they have overcome many, many difficulties. October 14, 2010 they will have been married 62 years. In trouble they seemed to turn to each other and to Heavenly Father instead of away.

What a bonfire that was.

 Hey Good Lookin’  Hank Williams 1951

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSozIEo-Fuk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjCoKslQOEs

Say hey, good lookin’. Wha-wacha got cookin? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?
Hey hey, sweet baby, do-o-on’t you think maybe, 

We can find us a brand new recipe?

I got a hot rod Ford, and a two dollar bill; 

And I know a spot right over the hill.
There’s soda pop and the dancing’s free, 

So if you wanna have fun, come along with me.

Hey hey, good lookin’, wha-wacha ya got cookin? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?

I’m free and I’m ready, so we can go steady,

   Hows about saving all your time for me?
No more lookin’, I know I been cookin”,

 Hows about keepin’ steady company?

I’m gonna throw my date book over the fence, 

And buy me one for five or ten cents
I’ll keep it till it’s covered with age, 

cause I’m writin’ your name down on every page.

So hey, good lookin’, wha-aat ya got cookin’? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?

20/20

I have wonderful vision. To me that was normal.

I could see clearly, in exquisite detail, even at considerable distances. I observed that I saw highway signs before anyone else seemed aware of their existence much less their content but did not think beyond that to any of its implications. 

Examining intricate stamps or coins has been a pleasure that required no aid.  Bring on fine print – no problem.  I gave no thought to simple tasks of reading, sewing, and being aware of all my surrounding near, far and in-between.

I had no problem seeing animals several miles away on the ranch when I was growing up. While riding, if my father said, “Mr. Soandso’s cow is at such and such a place,” or  “has a calf laying nearby” I could see the brand or markings to observe he was correct and confirm if the calf was moving and what color it was. I could tell if the motion on a far slope was an antelope or deer, and if the bird gliding on the updrafts over the hillsides was an eagle or a hawk and what it had picked up in its talons after a sudden swooping dive. 

I also could thrill to the texture of the tiniest parts of flowers or stones, fur and feathers or even the varied bits of soil that clung to uprooted weeds, crumbled away from rushing waters or flipped aside for scurrying insect legs. My mother noted such things and taught me to look for the barbed structure of a feather, the glinting texture on moth or butterfly wings, the subtle structural parts of leaves or grasses and such things as the translucent wonder and never ending changes reflected by so many different creatures’ eyes.

She taught me how their eyes did not see the way mine did but I took it for granted that most people’s eyes saw pretty much the same. I knew some people needed glasses to help them see better but comprehending the complex dynamics that entailed was significantly beyond my ability and experience.

I now admit I thought a lot of people made a lot of fuss about eye care and glasses and felt a bit blessed that I didn’t need to – and yes I admit to vision snobbery.

Somewhere near age 50 a radical change began.  My arms held objects a bit farther away and I liked to have stronger light and …

and then my arm got too short.

RIDICULOUS! My life became ridiculous – and continues to get worse. Reading became work and somewhat tiresome – but I love to read so I got reading glasses.  Now I have to have the right pair to even see across the room – and a much stronger pair to do handwork.  I just don’t do much of it anymore – and there is little pleasure in needing to set up a production to look at a single stamp or coin – such things now fall into the category of ‘time consuming hobbies’.

All this to say, wow – did you ever consider all the things your body does without you needing to consider it is doing it?  And what about the eyes or ears or limbs that other people have that do not do what yours can do?

If I wore earplugs for a shopping excursion or to watch TV would I appreciate the difficulties my husband has every day or at least become more aware of how irritating a hearing aid can be? What if I had to hear everything in my world through my cell phone's speakers? – YIKES!

If I put on dark smudged glasses and went to the library or watched a movie could I learn greater patience for those that are sight impaired?

Recently I suggested a family home evening lesson to my daughter.  If specific injuries, diseases or handicaps were assigned (or randomly drawn) for each family member and they agreed to the limitations of that assignment for several hours – like through a day, an afternoon, or even just a couple hours of specific activity time – what would result? 

I suggested things like casting an arm or leg, blind folds, or the earplugs as well as invisible things like heart disease, diabetes, or allergies.  Each would receive some instructions about their limitations and during a discussion time all would be free to notice additional difficulties they might think could be faced or ways to overcome the limitations.  The family would then try to help all family members to participate fully in the activities of the day.

Near the end of June as I weeded, walked, and worked in my home and yard I became acutely aware of the movements of my muscles – especially in the leg that would have a surgical procedure on 2^nd July. I carefully considered many things I would not be able to do and made sure I had prepared activities that might be pleasant ways to while-a-way a few hours or days. 

Almost a month has passed. I haven’t done anything.  Looking at the light and shadows has been sufficient entertainment some days. Physical Therapy and personal hygiene marathons make watching the back of my eyelids a pleasant option.

Do you know that standing is a pleasure, that sitting on a chair (or any other place)  is a thrill or that being able to ride in a car as it bumps along the street is to be treasured?

How many things can you see 20/20?  How long since you noticed you are able to walk, eat, hear, talk, dress, think, learn or feel? Yes, even feeling is a privilege – it is so much better than being numb.

Each day I notice new things to be grateful for.  I am especially grateful for people – friends, family, medical staff, and even complete strangers that are encouraging or courteously considerate. I am so happy to have educational opportunities, clean water to drink, delicious food to eat, and loved ones to share it all with.

And I know the reality of God and the gospel of Jesus Christ. There is nothing greater than that. There are so many without so much.  I am rich! I am blessed - I am in awe! My vision is so much better than it has ever been. 

How's yours?