1801

I was very small the day we stopped at Rick’s Springs in Logan (is that right?) Canyon.  Everyone waded off toward the cave and left me at the ice-water’s edge on a rock.  Which would have been much better had it been a level rock, but as it was, it was a slanty rock that sloped down into the water.  I sat and called for help and tried to remain static to no avail.  I kept slowly and steadily slipping down to the water.  Each time I nearly touched the water, Anne (no one else cared) would come and get me and set me back up on the rock where I had originally been set (she didn’t care enough really fix the situation).  This cycled I don’t know how many times, but I remembered the lay of the land ever after.  I again saw Ricks Springs when I was 21 and recognized it was indeed the place.

I grew up aware more of the brat I had been than the cute little addition.  In recent years, Anne has shared stories of the cute things I said and did that I didn’t know about and I have become aware of her particular fondness of me.  Thank you, Anne.  Elden pretty much the same.

Elden held me before his mission.  I remember that too.  No one should believe me, but as for myself, I just don’t know any better.  I remembered it, plain and simple.  He was standing in the French doorway that leads from the living room to the front porch.  I seem to recall some apprehension in both of us.  My boys have similar tales to tell of early early memories.  Whatever - I don’t know what it means.  Yes I do.  Like I was saying, thank you Elden.  ‘Course, we should not make no big thing out of it or anything else I write - I’m only 48 years old.  Been here only a speck.

This doesn’t belong here and I apologize for the sloppiness, but FYI, Russ’ vette was a ‘60, I believe, not a ‘64.  In my other post, I only cited the ‘64 vette to paint a picture; I didn’t actually know anyone who owned one at the time.

I could easily sit here for a week and a half and tell stories about everyone from Benjamin to Becky, but I have a scout camp to go to.  ta ta

It was about 1963.  Someone can correct me.  Sister Anne (sometimes called ‘Aa’)  was getting married.  Sue and I knew about it because she (Anne) tried on her wedding dress in the living room.  It was like a big white bell.  We crawled underneath and played house under there.  Something new and different around the house always excites the little ones.  Like the time we were painting the inside of the house and dad had his long wooden ladder that he made running from the front lawn in through the front NorthWest window.  It served as a low scaffold for painting the ceilings.  Once we also painted the basement and that was fun.  I don’t know whether that or the time we painted Anne’s room (the closet) blue, was when one of us painted a bold stroke on Joe’s knit cap.  I remember having my picture taken sitting on that fold-up bed of Anne’s.  And the booties they had me wear.  Wait a minute - was that picture taken on that bed, or was it taken in a studio somewhere uptown????  Oops, I may have discovered a flaw in my memory.  Anyway, I do remember sitting on her bed wearing those clothes I have on in that portrait of me that used to hang on the wall with all that curly hair on top.  Anyway, we were playing under her dress and then later we were at the ward cultural hall and I threw up on the floor after some nice refreshments and two older (safe term to use) women came wearing white dresses and carrying white mops and pails and cleaned it on up.  Then Ben or John took me home.  We went into the house through the front door that in later years was always blocked - the one that leads from the front porch to the front room where we all (except Anne) slept.  It is always exciting for the little ones to have something new and different around the house.  Having that door unblocked - or the memory of it unblocked - was very exciting.

Perhaps my all-time favorite memory that almost brings tears to me was the day (and similar days from that same summer, probably 1963) dad had the car-top carrier out back and was doing whatever with all that camping equipment.  I thought the car-top carrier was a metal raft.  Someone said it was.  Whatever big people said, I thought it was.  Like the dark night (oh don’t get me started about the dark nights!  I have stories of ultimate magic and wonder of dark nights going here and there with the family!  Oh!  Just let me mention Uncle Jim’s garden parties with the little Japanese bridge over the ditch!) at Lagoon when Mom wanted to go on the hammer plane (someone can correct the name - it was that long arm that spun in a vertical plane and had enclosed cockpit, two-seater ”planes” without wings, fore and aft, that faced in a tangential direction and spun on an axis tangent to said tangential direction) but she had to look after me and I was afraid to get on, so she told me they would fly us to Ogden and we could visit Aunt Therma and Louise (why was it always “Aunt Therma and Louise,” not “Aunts Therma and Louise”?) when we landed.  So I got on.  Hairy ride and then we landed and guess what?  You guessed it - we were the same place we started.  Anyway, we were all in back on the lounges and the sun was very very bright - but not too hot.  I got ants all in my diaper.  I had my siren bolted to the handles of my trike.  I still have the box in my attic, in perfect condition, that the siren came in.  It is in this condition because it served for many years to hold Christmas decorations after the siren itself was long gone.  My cloth diaper with pins.  My cloth diaper from the middle drawer in the kitchen - the one with the metal sliding lid.  My diaper with the zig-zag cut (saw-tooth) edges.  Anyway, words may not be the best medium to paint this memory; other than the “raft” being out, not much was happening, but we were there, all together and the paint smelled fresh, and so did the sweeping, and the coming and going, and one of the older boys was going or coming in a car, down or up the so shady driveway, and the picture window was washed, and the ivy - well, the ivy below it, you know?  I get fleeting feelings of just how I felt then!  The world - our neighborhood - was so FRESH.  The morning sun was SO BRIGHT.  Brighter than it has ever been since.  Not a glaring bright, but like a brand-new 1964 Corvette ride on a COOL summer Saturday morning with the smell of brand-new rubber Bright.  With the water running and gurgling in the ditch while Russ was taking me somewhere exciting Bright.  Sitting on Mrs. Miller’s stump out front in the morning (I actually have a color photo of me doing this in addition to the memory) Bright.  Coming home from Relief Society on Wednesday morning, eating Starburst (Mother was sometimes a renegade), to do my mail plane route (in the swing) while Mother did the dishes Bright.  Some kid rounding the NorthEast corner of Coatsville and Second East in the street on his Schwinn Sting Ray, making a motor sound with his mouth and twisting both hand grips like he was revving it Bright.  No knowledge at all of anything sinister - that they were actually covering our entire country with fallout from nuclear testing Bright.  No sir, it was 10 trillion miles from knowing anything about pollution, greed, profanity or violence.  It was a scrubbed fresh by Mother Bright.  If you ever wonder whether you look forward to the millenium, think on these things.  Bright sun, cool willows and running water.  Sandwiches on a platform over the ditch, feet in the water.  I’ll tell you this:  no kid ever experienced greater fun and excitement at Disney Land than we did playing in our ditch.  Guarantee it.  And dad knew it; that’s why we never went to Disney Land.  But my family is going some day, we think.  Here or there, we just have fun being together.

Sometimes Sue and me got to stay overnight with Anne and Elden up near the U on that one hill.  It was always fun and to anticipate.  Didn’t Kenneth break his arm there?  But there were gooseberries to eat in front.  They weren’t all that tasty because they were only gooseberries, but they were berries on a bush and that was almost like going up to dorus and virgie’s.  But there was a hitch:  Anne was a pretty young thing and had to watch her figure, so there was always oatmeal in the morning - but with no cream.  Me n Sue really hated that.  Another drawback I recall about Sleeping Over at sibling’s apartments and rented houses was, you never could sleep because it was never your own bed.  But we loved to do it just the same.  It was fun staying with or doing things with my brothers or sisters and their wives or husbands; I would pretend they were my young, hip parents - a nice “grass is greener” change from having old people for parents.  Now I have a daughter who was born when I was about the same age as dad was when Sue was born.  Kinda scary - but not really, in light of my other post today.  Speaking of Emma and babies, I pointed out to Sharon that if we were to have a little boy about now, our family would be very similar to Marwin and Ethel’s: same number of boys and girls and roughly the same spread in years and ages of the parents when they were born.  I would be the same age as dad was when I was born.  Plus, the tail end would be a girl that was a total surprise but that had been hoped for, followed by a boy that was simply an utter surprise. 

Only real difference would be that ours went boy-boy-girl, boy-boy-girl, boy; theirs went boy-girl-(boy x 3)-girl-boy.

 I’ll just close by saying Starburst used to taste like it did back then.  It was off the market, to my knowledge, for many years between my Relief Society days and my college years.  It was quite a blast from the past when it reappeared on the shelves and still had that unique pasty flavor I remembered from my mail plane days.  They changed the flavor only recently.

Perhaps you won’t mind me posting something a little lengthy that I drummed up this evening after meeting with my family.  It seems to be relevant to our extended family because its roots are in something I got from my parents and because we now have (literally in my case at least) countless young expanding the earthly posterity of Mom and Dad.  I mainly speak to these young (that may sound a little funny to my brothers and sisters).

 Matter of fact, it seems relevant to the whole mission of this blog.  So here goes:

 I have a message to every person I know. It is what I taught to my children this evening. As you get older (those of you who are still under the age of 20), you will find that time passes slowly at first, then it picks up and goes faster, and faster, and faster, and then faster than you were even able to imagine when you noticed it was accelerating. It will do this whether you are having fun or not.

If you base your happiness in what you enjoyed for breakfast and what movie you will enjoy this evening, and your favorite song, you will experience anxiety in having to wait for many of the things you are trying to obtain in life as you go up the hill to middle age (at first, because time moves slowly; later, because it’s going by quick and you are falling behind schedule). Then when you hump and descend, you will feel regret and sadness as you begin to notice wrinkles forming on your body, your hair turning gray and kinky or disappearing, your knees stiffening up, etc. You will feel an emptiness and wonder what it’s all for as death approaches.

Your joy will be Time-Dependent.

If on the other hand, you pray, study the Book of Mormon and the scriptures and love and serve other people, the Lord will give unto you His Spirit which will cause joy in your spirit and health in your body.

And a special gift: The Gift of Timelessness.

You will continue through life with the sensation that it doesn’t matter when. Or even where. Maybe not even who. Only what. It will only matter to you what you did, what your spirit has. You will not be sad to think of your 6th birthday party and your high school prom being so many years ago. You will not be sad about your favorite things from the good old days changing or disappearing. It won’t even bother you too much that the government and society are going to pot - as long as you are doing your best to help slow or prevent it. You will not be sad about the past going fast into the distance nor will you look to the near, intermediate or far future with anything but anticipation and enthusiasm. You will see your entire life, not as something past and gone but as something tangible - where your 6th birthday party is as real and near as the present, and where death is just one more thing in your bright future. It will not bother you that there are people younger than you. When loved ones pass on, you will not be sad.

Your joy will be in the good things that happen - independent of when they happen. This joy in its absolute form is only available through the Gift of the Holy Ghost. And just so that you know I am not kidding, I tell you these things in the name of Jesus Christ.

Here’s a verse or two from 2 Nephi that strike me as possibly the very best invitation to the gospel:

Come, my brethren, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and he that hath no money, come buy and eat; yea, come buy wine and milk without money and without price. Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy. Hearken diligently unto me, and remember the words which I have spoken; and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness.

To every person I know, I say this is real.  Real.  And, he that is happy shall be happy still, when he’s one of those carved dried apples and beyond.

click on the image below to view or print a larger version…

the self-portraits of marwin and ethel below only cover sketches through the 1970’s. many of you have experiences and events that took place with them in later years. would you write them up and share them here for the benefit of all? thanks!

      It seemed that Mom and Dad were always insisting on this or that.  We must keep our room neat.  We must hang up our coat and cap.  We must wear our rubbers or galoshes in the winter, and our coats, and our long woolen underwear.  We must go to Primary on Monday, and Religion Class on Wednesday, and to all our meetings on Sunday.  We must weed the garden, dig dandelions, mow the lawn (power mowers for domestic use were not yet invented), fill the coal; bucket and lug it from the coal shed into the kitchen, chop the kindling wood, pump the water out of the furnace pit in the cellar, empty the pan under the ice box, shovel the snow from the walks, help with the house cleaning, etc.
      Our cooperation in these regimens usually left something to be desired; but somehow, with the help of the hired girl and Mother’s and Father’s patience and persistence, the household managed to stay together and run with a reasonable smoothness.
      Mother was the personification of punctuality mixed with a good deal of love, parental devotion, and culinary and home making skills.  If we were tardy for school, it was never because breakfast was late.  The finest foods from the local stores and farms were provided for us in abundance, deliciously prepared, graciously served, and on time, with snacks in between if desired.
      Mother had a quiet, unassuming, but unshakeable faith and would listen any time we had a problem to discuss.  She usually came up with the right answers, although we may not have realized it at the time.
      Father provided a home that was, both literally and figuratively, a rose garden with a piano, Victrola, good records, and plenty of good books inside; and plenty of room for marbles and other games both inside and outside; also dirt  to dig in, and boards and bent nails to make things.
      Here goes a list of random memories: (Not in chronological order)

Sitting on the front steps on a summer evening, slapping mosquitoes, while Mother sits in her rocking chair on the porch sewing and saying hello to friends walking by.

Trips to Wyoming, and once to Idaho and Yellowstone, with Dad.  The bedroll was tied onto the fender of the Buick.  Sleeping nights on the ground under the stars or in a hay barn.

Trip to Yellowstone with Mom.  Sleeping nights in cozy tourist lodges.

Riding double with Dad on my bike so he could get to his meeting on time at the Weber Academy.

Hiking with Dad over Mt. Ogden through Snow Basin to Pineview (no roads up there at that time).  Also many walks with him to Malan’s Heights on Saturday afternoons.

Our dog, Keno, a beautiful friend.

Swimming parties with Dad in the Ogden and Weber Rivers, and at the Hot Springs.  Rides in the Grant Six; walking the back roads from Riverdale to home with Dad while Mom took the car home.

Taking five from working in the yard to drink cold lemonade brought out by Mom.

Roast leg of lamb, brown potatoes, and gravy served on clean linen, after our bath most every Saturday night.

Cold lamb sandwiches on Sunday.

Pillow fights; jumping on the bed (not approved); the smell and feel of new pajamas.

Life at 831 was a neat experience.–M.L.S.

(The first portion of this history was recorded Monday, September 26, 1977 at a Family Night… A few months later, Marwin finished the writing of his history. The manuscript was typed by Anne Lucille). 

To read the rest of his history, download this file: marwinhistory.pdf

[This history was recorded Monday evening, January 30, 1978.   … On February 27, 1978 the narration was continued …  Then Ethel edited and added additional information to her story.  The manuscript was typed by Anne Lucille.]

Okay everybody, we’re going to have a family home evening now, and I’m going to tell you about when I was a little kid.  The earliest recollection I have of when I was really young was when my little brother, Amos Lawrence,  passed away when he was about two weeks old and I remember Mama being in a bed in our dining room after she had the baby at our home in Huntsville, Utah.  This little boy caught pneumonia and died.  On the day of the funeral, I remember people coming into the house, but can’t recall going to the church.  The thing I remember most about it at the age of four was watching the people’s feet as they walked in and out to see the baby and the family.  I remember the long skirts and the women had black shoes that buttoned on the sides with about eight buttons, pointed toes, and high heels.

Another early recollection was my grandmother Petersen’s house burning down one night. We all went outside the back door and looked over toward the north and two blocks away.  We could see the flames shooting high and the house just burned completely.  They supposed that someone set it on fire.  Then my grandmother had to move in with my Uncle James and Aunt Clara; and later before she passed away, she came to stay at our house and my mother took care of her.

[to read the rest of this history, download this file: ethel-original-history.pdf , and you can also enjoy this letter written later by susan: susans-letter-2009.pdf ]

We are running out of the boys to send on missions. Since Scott is the last one, this is the last time you will have to listen to one of these talks. As I speak, you will have to sift the chaff from the wheat to tell what is doctrine and what is opinion. It President Kimball were talking, you wouldn’t have to do that.About 2000 years ago, Ammon, the son of Mosiah, and his brothers Aaron, Omner and Himni, gave up their rights to the kingdom for the word of God, which they had received by searching the Scriptures. They had fasted and prayed and so they had the Spirit of prophecy, revelation, and taught with power and authority of God. They were good missionaries and they taught the Lamanites for 14 years bringing many to a knowledge of the truth. And they walked. 80 or 100 years later, Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, on the other side of the world, carried the same message to the people. He went by boat. In this last dispensation, Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, John Taylor, Heber J. Grant, David O. McKay, Spencer W. Kimball, and Duane Knowldon all carried the same message. This is kind of a good outfit. These are people who have their names written in the eternal biography of mankind where they will never be erased. There is another group of people like Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini & Roosevelt who set out to conquer and dictate to the people, and built Empires which do not last. Such a difference there is between these two groups — the second have their names in history books; but the message of the missionaries lasts because it gets to the hearts of individuals. There is a hymn by Rudyard Kipling called “God of our Fathers, Known of Old.” The second stanza expresses the same thought:

I’m grateful for the time we lived in Walkersville, MD, if for nothing else for meeting and loving my VA cousins.  (There were other things to be grateful for: Carriage House cakes, Bisquick, cowcorn sunsets…)

Uncle Russ provided my introduction to Trader Joe’s and organic food, spelt, carrot juice, and Bonner’s Peppermint Soap. Russ let me use his mac to make pictures, it was my first exposure to a computer that could do more than word processing, and planted seeds that later sprouted into interests (and talent) in computer graphics.

I was 11 years old that first trip to the house in Alexandria. I can remember eating cornflakes out of the Bonjour! bowl and feeling so very cool and important for the attention my older cousins gave me.  Asher got to use the rider mower.  We jumped on the trampoline and fed chickens.  Chris and Ben listened to Bob Marley and watched the Simpsons with us.  I saw my first ever Camelback water bag and was amazed.  I had my first Krispy Kreme. Jenny gave me a journal with a lock and key.  Thank you…

I love and miss you all.  You are in my heart and prayers.

Amity