Just Cataloging Pictures -

Did all of us remember our brother when he was young and debonair.  Was this the infamous car from Earl?  Where was this picture taken, Dwight?  I will try to find more pictures from the file that are reminders.

Happy Birthday to Dear Dwight

There is one very important thing about these family pictures.  You can see the smiles and laughter that occur when we are together.  Dwight has probably had a witticism to share in each one of these pictures, taken at various times and places.  On this very important birthday, we all sent our happy birthday to you.  You are a most beloved brother, father, grandfather, uncle, etc., etc. etc.  We love you and hope that this day is good for all.

Ann and Dwight Make a Trip to Layton to See Louise June 18 2013

Ann and I went to Layton yesterday to see our sister Louise.  We visited extensively and Louise gave us a tour of her extraordinarily well organized home, with a room for scrapbooking, a room for sewing, a room with the quilting frame and computer, and a living room for watching TV.  Amazing.  She has made dozens of wonderful scrapbooks with photos and writing, and she estimates she has made at least 150 quilts.  We lament that our mobility, or lack thereof, keeps us from more frequent visits but we cherish the time we can spend together.  

Fun Stuff In The Mail

About the first of the week I received a large brown envelope from Dwight.  I was somewhat apprehensive as I pondered what could be inside.  It wasn't my birthday and I hadn't asked him for any photos, but I did know their move north from St. George was either to take place soon or had already taken place, so was he just cleaning out his office and getting rid of stuff or what?

To my surprise, when I opened the envelope, therein was a magazine titled Mother Earth News Wiser Living Series.  Beneath that title is the subtitle(I guess that is what you call it) "Guide to Growing Your Own Food" with 5 Keys to a Weed-Free Garden as a featured article.  I was so excited because this just seemed like such a thoughtful thing to do.  I carefully read the different articles and did learn some new stuff to add to the old stuff I had forgotten about.

Now, here comes the kicker.  I don't mean to attribute anything untowards (that is a Downton Abbey word, I am sure) to Mother Earth News, but I think they have a centerfold photo in this magazine.  When I hit page 54-55 there it was.  The title of that article is "Backyard Chickens For The Best Eggs Ever".   The photo is of a very contented looking mother hen with baby chicks running around her.  (I would have copied it and posted it here, but was concerned about copyright issues and I didn't want to wait to receive a written ok to use their photo.)  In my mind it suddenly became more obvious why Dwight sent this very informative magazine to me.  The first sentence in this article written by Cheryl Long states:  "The minute you crack open a homegrown egg from a hen that's been able to eat grass, seeds and bugs,you'll never settle for pale, tasteless factory-farm eggs again."  She is so right.

So, I am now thinking, in spite of Dwight's class in college about the economics of raising a few healthy, happy chickens, there is a longing on his part to come down and sit on the back porch and listen to "chicken talk" and enjoy the world of real eggs.  We must get together sometime soon!

Dealing with Losses

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning" (Psalms 30:5)  I had been thinking for awhile about realizing that for every loss we have, we gain something in return.  Some times what we get is not what we think we want, and some times we think we are getting punished in return.  Then I read Daniel Peterson's weekly column he writes in Mormon Times in the Deseret News last week.  Dan was our long-time neighbor, church associate, study group colleague, and friend when we lived in Orem.  He is easily one of the smartest people I know, if not the smartest.  He is a professor of Arabic which, alone, is enough to make him an imposing intellect, but he has also lived all over the world, traveled all over the world, edited and written countless scholarly works, and read about everything.  And yet he carries all of these credentials lightly, almost transparently.  He writes last week about losing his half-brother, who was more his brother, and the bereft and orphaned feeling he had when the loss came.

My thoughts working through my mind before I read Dan's column surfaced anew.  I thought of the many kinds of losses we experience, both when we are young and as we age.  When we are young, we lose the innocence of childhood as we struggle to become adolsescents and then adults.  We may lose hope, we may lose first loves, we may lose our perfect health, we may lose parents and family members, we may struggle with our faith.  As we age, we begin to lose those around us, and the older we get, the more of those who have been dear to us leave before we depart ourselves.  We lose mobility and agility, and we lose our pain-free bodies.  We suffer transcendant disappointments and crushing losses and defeats and we wonder if we should let our faith wither like last year's sunflower, once so bright and yellow and cheerful, and now brown and sere like our broken hearts.

And the longer I thought about all of these things, the more I realized that I was missing something that was right in front of me all the time.  While our courage may grow in adversity, we ponder our losses and wonder how we can ever cope with them.  And then at some quiet moment it comes to us:  We realize that we are not alone.  And, as time goes by, we will never be alone.  The indelible impressions that those we have loved made on our lives last for eternity, and we continue to be guided by their words, their smiles, and the permanence of the bonds between and among us.  We always remain together.  And we may finally may be willing to acknowledge, confronted with tragedy and crisis, that some power beyond us is also our constant companion through the troubled nights and the cloudy days.  And one day, the sun shines again, through our tears and through our pain..

Would Mother Think This Job Was Good Enough?

One time while I was assigned to mop the kitchen floor on my hands and knees I thought I was finished after working on it.  Big mistake.  Mother, the eagle-eyed inspector, thought I had done an awful job and told me to do it over again.  Ever since then, I have had a subliminal prompting when doing similar jobs that asks me to ponder: "Would Mother think this job is good enough?" 

Mother always expected no less than our best.  When I was in the fifth grade, I missed school from December 1 until late March with mysterious after effects of chicken pox and mumps.  Louise brought my assignments, lessons, and materials home for classes.  Mother, who had taught elementary school before her marriage, was my teacher.  I can guarantee that I got straight A's (we were graded 1's, 2, 3, 4, 5) in every subject.  I wonder what I might have learned if Mom had home schooled me all the way through school, much of which was a waste of time.  I could have learned more in two hours a day than I did all day in school.  The main thing I learned in sixth grade, for example, was to draw and color a map of France.  I have disliked France ever since and, especially, when I had to pass a reading knowledge of French for my Ph.D. at the University of Michigan.  I thought then of that map of France I spent so much time on in the sixth grade in between pestering the girl who sat in front of me.  We learned to color inside the lines in the first grade and, besides, Louise taught me to read before I went to school so there wasn't much to do but piddle around.  I got expelled (promoted?) out of the second grade.  By Junior High, I discovered I had a "bad attitude" which kept me out of the National Junior Honor Society even though I had one of the highest grade averages in the class.  Problem was, I had no idea I had a bad attitude until I got my report card.

I still wonder as I mop the tile on the kitchen floor if Mother would think I had done a good enough job, or if she would tell me to do it over.  "Any job worth doing, etc., etc., etc., is worth doing well."  It wasn't worth trying to put anything over on her again.  Another teaching ingrained for life.

Going After the Cows and a Lifelong Munchie Habit

Has anyone besides me acquired a lifelong habit of needing a few munchies or goodies to take with you when you go on a walk or for an errand?  My wife asked me where I got this compulsive behavior of thinking I needed something to suck on, chew on, or eat when I leave the house.  I explained that it came from going after the cows.  When we lived in Ralston during WWII, the cows pastured on a boggy field by the canal just above our home.  We had to go up the lane near the ditch rider's house, open a wire gate, collect the cows, and drive them home.  Since it was summer, we found a lot of what we took with us to eat from the garden.  At various times, I remember plums, sand cherries, and carrots.  We didn't have much candy in the kitchen cupboards, but usually there was a bag of hard lemon drops and maybe another variety once in awhile.  In Penrose, Eliz was promoted to chief cow collector and she became the expert, although I do remember going a few times.  Before I went, I had to find something to eat on the way.  Now I have a bigger variety of options for goodies, but every time I go I remember going after the cows.  And that is why I look for something to munch on before I leave the house.

More Carts

There were a couple of photos posted not long ago showing a much more "modern" cart, however, this cart was a true treasure. Home made is always best! And what a great way to keep little ones in one place for a long walk. I am assuming Mother walked from the little house up to Grandma and Grandpa's house. Is that correct? Some of the fun things about this photo are the fact Grandpa made the cart, wheels and all, the great view of the hills in the background, a familiar gate, and is that a garden growing along the path. The cart Grandpa made in later years was patterned after this one.

Ode to Dwight

I know this guy named Dwight,

whose life, so he says, has been quite a plight.

He struggled, he loved, he laughed, he taught,

He desired, among other things to never be caught

Without the newest or "funnest" gadgets his siblings had first,

Or to be last on the list to be told the "latest dirt". (so what does rhyme with first?)

Over the years he has tried,

to be whatever being "big brother" implied.

Setting an example for all to contemplate,

Should I? Or shouldn't I, Oh, I think I'll just wait

To see if he's serious before I take the bait.

Multi-level bargains, wigs and pantyhose, and a calming potion,

Are just some of the adventures he helped put in motion.

But when all is said and done,

What would I change? Not one.

We have shared laughter and tears,

Dreams, frustrations and fears,

And since today is the start of your new year,

My wish for you is quite sincere.

May you continue to find laughter, and see the good in each day,

No matter what challenge may come your way,

Your life is a gift, that makes our lives more complete

So, please, be a good boy, go rub Vicks on your feet.

Enjoy lots of birthday treats, and get a good night's rest,

BYU plays tomorrow, you need to be at your best.

(Ok, dumb attempt, but am out of photos! Happy Birthday, Dwight. It was fun seeing you for a few minutes yesterday. I hope you made it home safe and sound. Love you, Annie)

Summer time - Get out Your Hoes!

How the memories last of significant times in our lives. The character building aspect of thinning (finger thinning with short-handled hoes), and hoeing impossibly long rows of sugar beets and beans remains in my memory forever. In retrospect, there is a fondness for those times when Dwight and I forged long-lasting relationship as brother and sister, and all animosity and differences were forgotten in our common labors. as we drank out of the common jug of water at the end of the row. They really are good memories, if one can forget the heat, the sweat, the mosquitoes, the gnats, the horseflies and deerflies.

FFA Banquet, probably 1948

A Look at the Past

I don't want to mess up Dwight's getting us to round up memories about what early mornings in Penrose were like, but I am cleaning out a major catch-all, and came across a small orange spiral notebook of Mother's, which has some interesting things in it. However, this one won't wait - sorry I didn't find it in December when we were talking about Dwight and Velna's wedding. These are the statistics from the trip from Penrose to Laramie, to Salt Lake, Provo, and back home again, as written down in the little notebook in both my handwriting and Mother's:
Mileage at home was 34,895.2
Thermopolis 35,019.7 - 6 gal. $1.82
Douglas 35,212.0 - 9 gal. $2.70
Wheatland 35,228 - 3 gal. .95
Laramie $1.50
Rawlins $2.00 (D)
Rock Springs $2.20
Evanston $2.10 (D)
Salt Lake City 35,808.3 $16.27

Provo 35,890 - $3.20
Evanston 7.7 g $2.25
Rock Springs 5.9 $1.80
Thermopolis 10.8 $3.29
Lovell 5.7 $1.70
30.1 $12.24

And, for expenses: (Obviously, we had packed food for the trip to Laramie and to Salt Lake.)
.53 - apples & ice cream
4.00 - Motel (S.L.)
1.15 - Temple
4.00 - groc. in SLC
4.50 - 1-1/2 bu apples
4.04 - 2 hats
1.10 - Nonsense

Why did we buy two hats? I can't remember - and I love the last item - So typical of Mother.

Steve and Mary Lynn Meet Us in Palmyra

We were so pleased when Steve and Mary Lynn came to Palmyra to see us.  There were a few problems, however.  Steve called to say they were in town and would soon be there so we told them to meet us by the Catholic church a half-block north of the corner with four churches on it, across from the 39 stone steps up to see the grave of Alvin Smith, which we did not attempt.  Steve, however, neglected to tell us he was in the other Palmyra south of the true Palmyra and that it would be some time before he arrove.  I saw him go whizzing past the four-corner-church aggregation, realized he was not oriented correctly, so to speak, and then returned.  Whereupon, he shooed the dog in the back seat, who was not anxious to go there, but went peacefully, and we headed for the Hill Cumorah.  Several of the tour members remarked that Steve and I looked identical.  That could have one of two meanings:  (a) I really look young and handsome, or (b) Steve looks like an old geezer.  After Hill Cumorah, we drove south to Canaindaigua  and looked at the mansions on the end of one of the finger lakes and had dinner.  I felt a little surreal to be so far out of place and still have my little brother around.  We had a great time, agreeing that he and I missed our conversations with our Dad.  For my sisters, Steve looks shaped up in each and every regard, so rest easy.  This visit was definitely a major highlight of our trip.

In this photo, Steve is considering whether it will be worth it to make some little noises that might irritate me.  Note the original Hole in the Wall, from the doorknob, which fit perfectly into the hole.  I did not learn this until the last couple of months, but Steve and Ann were the original Hole in the Wall Gang, dumping pea pods and other treasures down there.  An anthropologist would have a field day tearing this house apart.

Happy birthday,, Dwight!

Happy birthday a day late. I tried to put this on yesterday but I couldn't get my scanner to work, so I had to get some help from my personal tech. I love this picture of us. It was taken in front of my house on Green Street in the summer of 1965. I just want to say "amen" to all the other accolades and to say how much you have meant to me then and still do, and even though my eyes are closed in the picture, I hope it conveys that feeling. I'm blessed to have you for a brother and that we were so close in years that we were able to share the high school years together. I was always so proud to know you were my brother. Love you.

I had to include this picture, too.

Isn't this a great picture of our young families all lined up? It kind of takes you back a year or two, doesn't it?

Happy Birthday Dwight!

This is by far, not the best picture, but I wouldn't part with it for anything. Nothing else records my little child admiration for my big brother as this does. That admiration has never changed, but has only grown through the years. At the exit of our parents, and even before, you have led your siblings "where the angels fear to tread." Your writings are treasured and will be for generations to come.

These are a few of my favorite things.......When I think of Dwight and his belongings, they are very specific and very few: marbles, Lincoln Logs, comic books, borrowed library books, pigs, knot boards, Boy Scout book, FFA jacket, model airplanes and glue, Later, there was the typewriter and the old Ford.

And then there were the possessions that you could hear: his collection of cowboy music on 45s, his own singing voice and the wonderful yodel! Can you still do that, Dwight?

Today is your day. And this is a poesy for your birthday along with wishes that health and happiness will go on forever!