I waited to write this missive until today for a very special reason. I'll tell you later...
I finished up my series of genealogy classes last week and said good-bye to a great group of people. I just fell in love with them, for they are from a small town, and I LOVE small-town America. I wished them all luck in their research.
A few days later came my favorite day of the year!! I LOVE Thanksgiving!!! I love the feelings, the smells, the wonderful aromas drifting from the kitchen, the feeling of wanting to return home. Sometimes I wish I could return to my mom and dad's home just for a little bit.
We rode up to sister Ferne's place with Jean and Earl. It just makes more sense to all travel together when we're going to the same place. I wasn't feeling particularly well that day - it all goes back to the bowel obstruction I had a couple of years ago. I did the best I could to keep a chipper face, for I didn't want to be a downer. I didn't really care how I felt. I was just so thankful to be with family - and that I have a family to be with.
The next day at the temple was another one of the busiest ever. The day after Thanksgiving typically is. I'm so glad I wasn't out with the shoppers who braved the crowds on Black Friday. I used to do that with all of my kids, but no more.
And now for the reason I am writing this a day late:
It was 29 years ago today that Kerry and I were holding a sweet baby girl in our arms.
Peter was 2 1/2 years old, and we were ready for another baby. From the very beginning, we knew this baby would be a girl. Don't ask me how - we just knew. So, on the evening of 28 Nov 1981, the nesting urges began and I was washing the clothes and cleaning the house. Bob and Linda Rivers came to pick up Peter, and Kerry took me to the hospital about 9:00 pm.
It was to be a long night. A very, very long night. The pain was the worst I had ever felt, and would ever feel. Due to some complications, they could give me no epidural or pain medications of any kind. I can remember the doctor saying, "We're losing them both..."
We both survived. She was my only child born with hair, yet they had to shave part of her pretty little brown hair off to give her vitamin K.
She played baby Jesus in our church's Christmas play that year. While "Mary" was singing a lullaby to her, she sneezed in Mary's face.
We didn't have much money that year for Christmas, but there is one memory that will always stay in my mind. I had fed her and bundled her up in her little sleeper and blanket and placed her under the Christmas tree. She laid there so sweetly looking up at the lights. Soon, Peter came over and laid beside her. He began talking to her and stroking her little hands and face. I sat there with tears in my eyes as I thought about how rich Kerry and I were.
Now, Mr. Kerry is on his way to Oregon to bring her home. So, once more we will welcome sweet Harmony into our home again. She's been away for a number of years - in the Army, out of the Army, in Hawaii, in Oregon... But now, it's time to come home and recharge for a bit.
And, it's okay. Come on home...
Harmony on her first day of life. I was 26 years old.
Harmony at 3 months
Peter and Harmony, when he realized she was here to stay
Harmony at just about a year
She and Peter all dressed up to go to church
What a happy little baby girl
Harmony at about 3 years old
She liked cats - they didn't always like her
Kerry and Harmony on the day he baptized her at age 8
She traveled all over the country with us
This is my all-time favorite picture of Harmony. We had lots of campouts and cookouts in our back field. Sister Jean had given us some day-old donuts, so Harmony put one on a stick and roasted it. It was actually pretty good...
A happy-go-lucky girl...
She and Peter used to sing together
She was named after her Aunt Harmony, Kerry's youngest sister
Harmony at graduation
She was in the cast in the Hill Cumorah Pageant
She served her country
Come on home, Harmony. Your room is ready and your warm bed with flannel sheets is waiting for you...
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
So many reasons...
Oh, yes. I have so many reasons to be thankful this week.
Sometimes when I really stop and think about all I have to be thankful for, I get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. My blessings abound.
I am grateful that I have a reasonable about of knowledge stored in my brain. I try to keep myself fresh and learning on a daily basis. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn't. This past week, I began a series of genealogy classes at a local library in a small town close by. I'm grateful that people think I may have something to offer.
I'm grateful for the musical talent I possess, and hope that it has enhanced the lives of the people around me. For the past couple of weeks, I worked closely with others in our ward that are talented, and they assisted me in the music for today's services. People were spellbound. Some even mentioned they could have just listened to the music the whole time and nothing else! I'm grate for music and what it has meant to me in my life.
I am grateful for the church that has been a part of my life all of my life. The teachings of the gospel have helped get me through some of the toughest things I thought I would never have to face. Those teachings gave me hope. They gave me strength.
I am even grateful for little Mr. Eddie. He is a little protector of our home. He has his place here. This past week, one of my dearest friends that I've known since I was six years old was robbed. Her dog was put down last week. She was robbed this week. They ransacked her home, and stole her mother's gold jewelry and her father's coins - both of whom are deceased. My heart has just ached for her all week. I wondered what I would do. If I were here, Mr. Eddie would probably alert me, for he even despises Mr. Brown (the UPS man). If I weren't here, he may die trying to protect his domain. He's little - only 8 lbs. But, he's a joy and a comfort to us - and a bit of an assurance to us. Our little protector...
I am grateful for each of you that receives this email. Sometimes I wonder why I still do it. But, each of you has meant something to me, or you wouldn't be included on the list. Forgive me if I get long-winded or preachy. But...you all know where 'DELETE' is.
I am grateful for computers and technology that allows each of us to keep in contact with each other. I have been able to rejoice as I hear about the good news in your lives, mourn when the news is sad, and reach out when a pat on the back is needed.
But most of all, I am thankful for this Thanksgiving holiday. It is perhaps the one holiday that all of us can agree on in commonality. What one of us is not bowing our head in thanks as we look around us at what could be? This holiday is my favorite holiday. We have the opportunity to pause and remember the great blessings in our lives - our families, our children, our grandchildren, our spouses, our parents, our health, our homes...oh, I could make a list that would never, ever end.
God bless you all this Thanksgiving week.
And now, for my memory of the week...
I was six years old, and I was lost.
Quite often, my parents and sometimes my sisters would travel to Palmyra, New York to view the Hill Cumorah Pageant. It is the one of the largest outdoor pageants in America, and quite possibly the world, with a cast of 700. Nightly attendance averages 10,000 and more. Our family had the opportunity to be in the cast on several occasions. It was one of the highlights of our lives.
When I was about six, my parents and I were there with sister Ferne. I can't remember if any other of my sisters were there or not. I just know that we had been sitting in our seats for a long time and were waiting for the time when the pageant would begin.
Since I was young and a bit squirrelly, I was hopping up and down and trying to convince my mom that I needed to go to the bathroom. She was hesitant, for she really didn't want to leave her seat. Ferne said to just go ahead and let me go, and told me the exact route to take up through all of the people to get to the restrooms. It really wasn't very complicated. But, I was six.
I came back out, looked around and couldn't remember the route. It was really just a straight walk down an aisle, but I was six.
I began to cry. There was a light rain that was threatening us. I had on a blue and red plaid raincoat. As more time went by, I began to get terrified. I saw a sea of faces and knew I'd never see my mom again!
I cried more. Soon, a man picked me up and dried my eyes and helped me blow my nose. He had me stand on one of the benches and helped me look out over the crowd.
I soon spotted my mom!!! She had begun to worry and was going up and down the aisles looking for me. When she saw me standing on that bench, she pushed through the crowd, thanked the man, and held my hand tightly back to our seats.
I felt so safe and secure. Relief just swept over me. Mom later told me I looked so forlorn when she saw me - and I was just as cold and blue as the blue in my raincoat.
Peggy at six years old.
I guess as a result of that experience, I worried that the same thing would happen when I began to have my own little family. I thought the best way to help prevent this was to have something identifiable on us so that we could see each other better. Shirts were the best idea.
My good friend, Waunita, told me that when she and her husband took their boys to Sea World, they did that very thing. Except - there were lots of school children there that day and they all had the same color of shirts on!
So, when we went to Disneyland, I had all of us wear red shirts. Sure enough, there was a sea of red shirts there that day! But, there was one man in a yellow t-shirt that I could spot anywhere in the park. (Yellow stands out particularly well for our eyes. That's why we have black on yellow for our "warning" road signs - Merge, Railroad, etc.)
Also, when we dressed alike, not only was it easier to spot my kids, but it was easy for them to spot us, too! They could tell a cop or an information person or a store clerk exactly what their parents were wearing...
I might add that we don't all dress alike now. They're on their own.
Sometimes when I really stop and think about all I have to be thankful for, I get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. My blessings abound.
I am grateful that I have a reasonable about of knowledge stored in my brain. I try to keep myself fresh and learning on a daily basis. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn't. This past week, I began a series of genealogy classes at a local library in a small town close by. I'm grateful that people think I may have something to offer.
I'm grateful for the musical talent I possess, and hope that it has enhanced the lives of the people around me. For the past couple of weeks, I worked closely with others in our ward that are talented, and they assisted me in the music for today's services. People were spellbound. Some even mentioned they could have just listened to the music the whole time and nothing else! I'm grate for music and what it has meant to me in my life.
I am grateful for the church that has been a part of my life all of my life. The teachings of the gospel have helped get me through some of the toughest things I thought I would never have to face. Those teachings gave me hope. They gave me strength.
I am even grateful for little Mr. Eddie. He is a little protector of our home. He has his place here. This past week, one of my dearest friends that I've known since I was six years old was robbed. Her dog was put down last week. She was robbed this week. They ransacked her home, and stole her mother's gold jewelry and her father's coins - both of whom are deceased. My heart has just ached for her all week. I wondered what I would do. If I were here, Mr. Eddie would probably alert me, for he even despises Mr. Brown (the UPS man). If I weren't here, he may die trying to protect his domain. He's little - only 8 lbs. But, he's a joy and a comfort to us - and a bit of an assurance to us. Our little protector...
I am grateful for each of you that receives this email. Sometimes I wonder why I still do it. But, each of you has meant something to me, or you wouldn't be included on the list. Forgive me if I get long-winded or preachy. But...you all know where 'DELETE' is.
I am grateful for computers and technology that allows each of us to keep in contact with each other. I have been able to rejoice as I hear about the good news in your lives, mourn when the news is sad, and reach out when a pat on the back is needed.
But most of all, I am thankful for this Thanksgiving holiday. It is perhaps the one holiday that all of us can agree on in commonality. What one of us is not bowing our head in thanks as we look around us at what could be? This holiday is my favorite holiday. We have the opportunity to pause and remember the great blessings in our lives - our families, our children, our grandchildren, our spouses, our parents, our health, our homes...oh, I could make a list that would never, ever end.
God bless you all this Thanksgiving week.
And now, for my memory of the week...
I was six years old, and I was lost.
Quite often, my parents and sometimes my sisters would travel to Palmyra, New York to view the Hill Cumorah Pageant. It is the one of the largest outdoor pageants in America, and quite possibly the world, with a cast of 700. Nightly attendance averages 10,000 and more. Our family had the opportunity to be in the cast on several occasions. It was one of the highlights of our lives.
When I was about six, my parents and I were there with sister Ferne. I can't remember if any other of my sisters were there or not. I just know that we had been sitting in our seats for a long time and were waiting for the time when the pageant would begin.
Since I was young and a bit squirrelly, I was hopping up and down and trying to convince my mom that I needed to go to the bathroom. She was hesitant, for she really didn't want to leave her seat. Ferne said to just go ahead and let me go, and told me the exact route to take up through all of the people to get to the restrooms. It really wasn't very complicated. But, I was six.
I came back out, looked around and couldn't remember the route. It was really just a straight walk down an aisle, but I was six.
I began to cry. There was a light rain that was threatening us. I had on a blue and red plaid raincoat. As more time went by, I began to get terrified. I saw a sea of faces and knew I'd never see my mom again!
I cried more. Soon, a man picked me up and dried my eyes and helped me blow my nose. He had me stand on one of the benches and helped me look out over the crowd.
I soon spotted my mom!!! She had begun to worry and was going up and down the aisles looking for me. When she saw me standing on that bench, she pushed through the crowd, thanked the man, and held my hand tightly back to our seats.
I felt so safe and secure. Relief just swept over me. Mom later told me I looked so forlorn when she saw me - and I was just as cold and blue as the blue in my raincoat.
Peggy at six years old.
I guess as a result of that experience, I worried that the same thing would happen when I began to have my own little family. I thought the best way to help prevent this was to have something identifiable on us so that we could see each other better. Shirts were the best idea.
My good friend, Waunita, told me that when she and her husband took their boys to Sea World, they did that very thing. Except - there were lots of school children there that day and they all had the same color of shirts on!
So, when we went to Disneyland, I had all of us wear red shirts. Sure enough, there was a sea of red shirts there that day! But, there was one man in a yellow t-shirt that I could spot anywhere in the park. (Yellow stands out particularly well for our eyes. That's why we have black on yellow for our "warning" road signs - Merge, Railroad, etc.)
Also, when we dressed alike, not only was it easier to spot my kids, but it was easy for them to spot us, too! They could tell a cop or an information person or a store clerk exactly what their parents were wearing...
I might add that we don't all dress alike now. They're on their own.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
The home of the brave...
This has been a week to be thankful that we live in America. How privileged we are to be able to worship, to speak and to vote as we feel is the right way. And, what a blessing to be living here. I was fortunate to be born here, as well. I have been blessed richly.
Kerry and I did our patriotic duty by voting, then enjoyed the rest of a busy week. We ran quite a few errands this week, I worked with some people on music for the holidays, and we kicked back and relaxed a few days, too. It was very, very cold on some days, but this week we will be experiencing Indian summer. They call it Indian summer because the pioneers and early settlers would spent the end of summer and early fall preparing for the coming winter. They gathered up foodstores and made clothing that would keep them warm. Then, after a killing frost or a hoar frost, there would usually be one more short gap of warm weather. That's when the Indians would play out their last attacks on the settlers - hence, Indian summer.
Aren't I smart? Well, it appears that way...
Again, I have been surprised by the number of people commenting on the little historical missives I have been putting at the end of my missives. Last week's adventure of a young Kerry in the bathtub seemed to strike a resonance. I am saving all of these and putting them into a separate file. Perhaps someone will want them compiled someday. Who knows?
However, this week's historical missive is one that has been printed before. And, I will print it again and again, for it is near and dear to my heart. It is long. It is my salute to the veterans in my family, whose special holiday we will all celebrate this Thursday. If you know of any that I have left out, PLEASE do not hesitate to let me know. They deserve to be remembered...
I am the descendant, the mother, the sister-in-law and the relative of many, many good men and women who served our country. The older I get, the more I come to appreciate the great sacrifice they were willing to make to make and keep our country safe. Some joined in times of war. Some joined in times of peace, but were ready to defend in case of war. Here is my salute to them:
Chester Clemens - my father, who served at Pearl Harbor in WWII
Orson Lauritzen - Kerry's father, who served on a ship near Japan in WWII
Harmony and Jordan - my two middle children who served in the Army
Erik - our youngest son who served in the Army
Kerry's brother, Bill, who was killed in a Jeep accident in Germany at age 19
Kerry's brother, Steve - who served in Viet Nam
Kerry's brothers, Kelly - Lt. Col. in the Army (w/wife, Marion) and Chris - Col. in the Air Force
Kerry's sister, Charm - who I believed served in the Army (or National Guard?)
Paul, who is the son of Kerry's brother, Chris
Brendan, who is the son of Kerry's brother, Chris
Pete - husband of sister, Betty, who served in the Air Force
'
Jim, husband of sister Ferne, who served in the Navy
Jack Monihan - Kerry's uncle, married to Orson's sister, Olive
Vaughn Kent Lauritzen - brother of Kerry's father, Orson
Wilson Lauritzen - brother of Kerry's father, Orson
This is a true story published that happened to my Dad in World War II as related by the Prophet Spencer W. Kimball. (related by Lita Lauritzen Burton)
Priesthood Power
"Priesthood nor its power knows the limitations of national boundaries. This was demonstrated many times in the conflict known as World War II. This is the story from the lips of Wilson P. Lauritzen:
We were fighting in the 'Battle of the Bulge' near the town of Ammonius, Belgium. By that time the Germans were on the defensive. We had just succeeded in cutting off or surrounding a sector of the German line. They were surrendering in large numbers. As we were disarming the soldiers, one of them said to me in broken English: 'Would you know if there are any Mormon soldiers in your unit?' I replied, 'Yes, I am a Mormon.' He asked, 'Do you hold the Priesthood?' 'Yes, I do,' I answered. 'I was married in the temple.' 'Would you be so kind as to come with me to that shell hole over there and administer to my buddy? He is pretty well shaken up, and pretty badly wounded.' Of course I consented to go. We found that his buddy was in a bad condition and was suffering much pain. Then the two of us, who a few short hours before had been on opposite sides in the bitter struggle, knelt down and administered to the wounded lad. And as we did so, I felt the spirit of the Lord very strongly. I know that that feeling was shared by them, too. As we finished, the litter-bearers were there. We lifted the broken body to the stretcher. Then our ways parted: the wounded boy was taken to the hospital; the German solder was sent back with other prisoners, and I went on with my other duties."
By Spencer W. Kimball Story Teller's Scrapbook Compiled by Albert L. Zobell
Richard Stevens - youngest brother of my mom, Ida Stevens Clemens
Thearl Stevens and wife Bertha - favorite brother of my mom, Ida
Thomas Clemens - son of my dad's oldest brother, Russell
Charles Clemens - my dad's brother
Edd Walker - granduncle of my dad, Chester Clemens
Will Walker - son of the above Edd Walker
Levi Wheeler Cline - one of my grandfathers in the Civil War
Dr. Thomas Walker - an early American explorer who we "may" connect as a shirttail relative
Robert H Stephens - one of my grandfathers who was in the Civil War
John Mullins - another one of my grandfathers
Oh, there are many, many more whose pictures I don't have, but commemorate this missive to their memory, anyway. I have found wonderful stories about them, and will include a couple of those.
!HAMMAN, PHIL. On Saturday, July 3, 1830, the fifty-fifth anniversary of American independence was celebrated at Bellefonte, Jackson Co, AL, at which among other participants were several Revolutionary patriots. After the reading of the Declaration of Independence by Henry F. Scruggs and the delivery of an oration by Hon. Samuel Moore, the company sat down to a plentiful dinner. After this many patriotic toasts were drunk. Only one, and that because of the historic fact it evoked, is here produced:
"By L. James, Esq. 'Capt. Phil HAMMAN: The Savior of Greenbrier - tho' his history is but little known, his intrepidity and patriotism are not let worthy of our commendation.' After the drinking of this toast, the old soldier rose and said: He thanked the gentlemen for introducing his name on an occasion where he had already been too much honored. Tho' his history was not much known, he could not object to have the transactions of his life divulged to the world. For nine years he had been in the wars of his country - during a greater part of which he had been engaged in the most dangerous parts of Indian service. He had suffered much; on one occasion he had been stripped by savage rapacity of every vestige of property he possessed, even the clothing of himself and family - one of his children fell a victim to their cruelty. But not to dwell on the dangers he had endured, he would merely speak of the occasion so kindly alluded to in the toast. When stationed at Fort Randolph, at the mouth of the Big Kanawha, nine hundred Indians set off in a body to make an unexpected attack on the inhabitants of Greenbrier, Virginia. Two men were dispatched to apprize the people in that quarter of their approaching danger. In three days they returned, wounded, and in despair; others were sought for who would carry the express; none were found willing to engage in so dangerous and hopeless an undertaking when he and one John Pryor (who was afterwards killed by the Indians) painted and dressed in Indian garb set off, and in forty-eight hours travelled one hundred and sixty miles through the wilderness; they overtook the Indians within twelve miles of the white settlements, passed through their camps, and gave timely warning to the people of their impending danger. Such preparations were made for security and defense as the occasion permitted. About daylight a violent attack was made on Fort Donley; the conflict was desperate - the door of the Fort was broken open - he stood in it, and resisted the enemy - 'till it could be shut and fasted. The foe were repelled with great loss, and the country saved from savage barbarity. He said that although he was old and poor, and had not received the compensation promised him by his country, yet he thanked God he was in peace and safety, and could live 'without the aid of public or private charity.' He then offered the following sentiment: "OUR RULERS: May they be just men, fearing God, and hating covetousness." Southern Advocate, Huntsville, July 10, 1830.
Zachariah Johnston's beautiful home, which is on the Historical Register and is for sale for $1,750,000 (I WANT it!) was a wonderful patriot.
Johnston was a prosperous farmer by the time the American Revolution began. In 1776, he was appointed a captain in the county militia. Johnston's company actively patrolled against Indian uprisings, and, in 1781, participated in the Virginia campaign which led to Lord Cornwallis' surrender. Representing Augusta County in the House of Delegates from 1778 to 1791, Johnston was chair of the House committee on religion and helped pass the "act for establishing religious freedom" in 1786.
Zechariah JOHNSTON was a personal friend and political ally of Thomas Jefferson. His presentation of the Hanover Memorials to the Virginia Assembly and his advocating the ideas of religious freedom held by his constituents, no doubt, had very great weight with Mr. Jefferson in formulating his bill "for establishing religious freedom," which became law in 1786. Mr. Jefferson, when leaving for a federal appointment, left his bill for religious liberty in the capable hands of James Madison."Mr. Chairman, I am a Presbyterian, a rigid Presbyterian as we are called; my parents before me were of the same profession; I was educated in that line. Since I became a man, I have examined for myself; and I have seen no cause to dissent. But, sir, the very day that the Presbyterians shall be established by law, and become a body politic, the same day Zachariah JOHNSTON will be a dissenter. Dissent from that religion I cannot in honesty, but from that establishement I will." And his name goes down to posterity in favor of the passage of the act for establishing Religious Freedom.One of his famous statements:
"Mr. Chairman, I am a Presbyterian, a rigid Presbyterian as we are called; my parents before me were of the same profession; I was educated in that line. Since I became a man, I have examined for myself; and I have seen no cause to dissent. But, sir, the very day that the Presbyterians shall be established by law, and become a body politic, the same day Zachariah JOHNSTON will be a dissenter. Dissent from that religion I cannot in honesty, but from that establishement I will." And his name goes down to posterity in favor of the passage of the act for establishing Religious Freedom.
May God bless these good men and women. I honor them, and will continue to honor them by posting this missive each and every time it is appropriate. And, as a genealogist, I will continue to look for and will find many more.
Bless their good hearts!
Taken at the Arizona Memorial, Pearl Harbor, HI on our trip to see Harmony, 2005
Kerry and I did our patriotic duty by voting, then enjoyed the rest of a busy week. We ran quite a few errands this week, I worked with some people on music for the holidays, and we kicked back and relaxed a few days, too. It was very, very cold on some days, but this week we will be experiencing Indian summer. They call it Indian summer because the pioneers and early settlers would spent the end of summer and early fall preparing for the coming winter. They gathered up foodstores and made clothing that would keep them warm. Then, after a killing frost or a hoar frost, there would usually be one more short gap of warm weather. That's when the Indians would play out their last attacks on the settlers - hence, Indian summer.
Aren't I smart? Well, it appears that way...
Again, I have been surprised by the number of people commenting on the little historical missives I have been putting at the end of my missives. Last week's adventure of a young Kerry in the bathtub seemed to strike a resonance. I am saving all of these and putting them into a separate file. Perhaps someone will want them compiled someday. Who knows?
However, this week's historical missive is one that has been printed before. And, I will print it again and again, for it is near and dear to my heart. It is long. It is my salute to the veterans in my family, whose special holiday we will all celebrate this Thursday. If you know of any that I have left out, PLEASE do not hesitate to let me know. They deserve to be remembered...
I am the descendant, the mother, the sister-in-law and the relative of many, many good men and women who served our country. The older I get, the more I come to appreciate the great sacrifice they were willing to make to make and keep our country safe. Some joined in times of war. Some joined in times of peace, but were ready to defend in case of war. Here is my salute to them:
Chester Clemens - my father, who served at Pearl Harbor in WWII
Orson Lauritzen - Kerry's father, who served on a ship near Japan in WWII
Harmony and Jordan - my two middle children who served in the Army
Erik - our youngest son who served in the Army
Kerry's brother, Bill, who was killed in a Jeep accident in Germany at age 19
Kerry's brother, Steve - who served in Viet Nam
Kerry's brothers, Kelly - Lt. Col. in the Army (w/wife, Marion) and Chris - Col. in the Air Force
Kerry's sister, Charm - who I believed served in the Army (or National Guard?)
Paul, who is the son of Kerry's brother, Chris
Brendan, who is the son of Kerry's brother, Chris
Pete - husband of sister, Betty, who served in the Air Force
'
Jim, husband of sister Ferne, who served in the Navy
Jack Monihan - Kerry's uncle, married to Orson's sister, Olive
Vaughn Kent Lauritzen - brother of Kerry's father, Orson
Wilson Lauritzen - brother of Kerry's father, Orson
This is a true story published that happened to my Dad in World War II as related by the Prophet Spencer W. Kimball. (related by Lita Lauritzen Burton)
Priesthood Power
"Priesthood nor its power knows the limitations of national boundaries. This was demonstrated many times in the conflict known as World War II. This is the story from the lips of Wilson P. Lauritzen:
We were fighting in the 'Battle of the Bulge' near the town of Ammonius, Belgium. By that time the Germans were on the defensive. We had just succeeded in cutting off or surrounding a sector of the German line. They were surrendering in large numbers. As we were disarming the soldiers, one of them said to me in broken English: 'Would you know if there are any Mormon soldiers in your unit?' I replied, 'Yes, I am a Mormon.' He asked, 'Do you hold the Priesthood?' 'Yes, I do,' I answered. 'I was married in the temple.' 'Would you be so kind as to come with me to that shell hole over there and administer to my buddy? He is pretty well shaken up, and pretty badly wounded.' Of course I consented to go. We found that his buddy was in a bad condition and was suffering much pain. Then the two of us, who a few short hours before had been on opposite sides in the bitter struggle, knelt down and administered to the wounded lad. And as we did so, I felt the spirit of the Lord very strongly. I know that that feeling was shared by them, too. As we finished, the litter-bearers were there. We lifted the broken body to the stretcher. Then our ways parted: the wounded boy was taken to the hospital; the German solder was sent back with other prisoners, and I went on with my other duties."
By Spencer W. Kimball Story Teller's Scrapbook Compiled by Albert L. Zobell
Richard Stevens - youngest brother of my mom, Ida Stevens Clemens
Thearl Stevens and wife Bertha - favorite brother of my mom, Ida
Thomas Clemens - son of my dad's oldest brother, Russell
Charles Clemens - my dad's brother
Edd Walker - granduncle of my dad, Chester Clemens
Will Walker - son of the above Edd Walker
Levi Wheeler Cline - one of my grandfathers in the Civil War
Dr. Thomas Walker - an early American explorer who we "may" connect as a shirttail relative
Robert H Stephens - one of my grandfathers who was in the Civil War
John Mullins - another one of my grandfathers
Oh, there are many, many more whose pictures I don't have, but commemorate this missive to their memory, anyway. I have found wonderful stories about them, and will include a couple of those.
!HAMMAN, PHIL. On Saturday, July 3, 1830, the fifty-fifth anniversary of American independence was celebrated at Bellefonte, Jackson Co, AL, at which among other participants were several Revolutionary patriots. After the reading of the Declaration of Independence by Henry F. Scruggs and the delivery of an oration by Hon. Samuel Moore, the company sat down to a plentiful dinner. After this many patriotic toasts were drunk. Only one, and that because of the historic fact it evoked, is here produced:
"By L. James, Esq. 'Capt. Phil HAMMAN: The Savior of Greenbrier - tho' his history is but little known, his intrepidity and patriotism are not let worthy of our commendation.' After the drinking of this toast, the old soldier rose and said: He thanked the gentlemen for introducing his name on an occasion where he had already been too much honored. Tho' his history was not much known, he could not object to have the transactions of his life divulged to the world. For nine years he had been in the wars of his country - during a greater part of which he had been engaged in the most dangerous parts of Indian service. He had suffered much; on one occasion he had been stripped by savage rapacity of every vestige of property he possessed, even the clothing of himself and family - one of his children fell a victim to their cruelty. But not to dwell on the dangers he had endured, he would merely speak of the occasion so kindly alluded to in the toast. When stationed at Fort Randolph, at the mouth of the Big Kanawha, nine hundred Indians set off in a body to make an unexpected attack on the inhabitants of Greenbrier, Virginia. Two men were dispatched to apprize the people in that quarter of their approaching danger. In three days they returned, wounded, and in despair; others were sought for who would carry the express; none were found willing to engage in so dangerous and hopeless an undertaking when he and one John Pryor (who was afterwards killed by the Indians) painted and dressed in Indian garb set off, and in forty-eight hours travelled one hundred and sixty miles through the wilderness; they overtook the Indians within twelve miles of the white settlements, passed through their camps, and gave timely warning to the people of their impending danger. Such preparations were made for security and defense as the occasion permitted. About daylight a violent attack was made on Fort Donley; the conflict was desperate - the door of the Fort was broken open - he stood in it, and resisted the enemy - 'till it could be shut and fasted. The foe were repelled with great loss, and the country saved from savage barbarity. He said that although he was old and poor, and had not received the compensation promised him by his country, yet he thanked God he was in peace and safety, and could live 'without the aid of public or private charity.' He then offered the following sentiment: "OUR RULERS: May they be just men, fearing God, and hating covetousness." Southern Advocate, Huntsville, July 10, 1830.
Zachariah Johnston's beautiful home, which is on the Historical Register and is for sale for $1,750,000 (I WANT it!) was a wonderful patriot.
Johnston was a prosperous farmer by the time the American Revolution began. In 1776, he was appointed a captain in the county militia. Johnston's company actively patrolled against Indian uprisings, and, in 1781, participated in the Virginia campaign which led to Lord Cornwallis' surrender. Representing Augusta County in the House of Delegates from 1778 to 1791, Johnston was chair of the House committee on religion and helped pass the "act for establishing religious freedom" in 1786.
Zechariah JOHNSTON was a personal friend and political ally of Thomas Jefferson. His presentation of the Hanover Memorials to the Virginia Assembly and his advocating the ideas of religious freedom held by his constituents, no doubt, had very great weight with Mr. Jefferson in formulating his bill "for establishing religious freedom," which became law in 1786. Mr. Jefferson, when leaving for a federal appointment, left his bill for religious liberty in the capable hands of James Madison."Mr. Chairman, I am a Presbyterian, a rigid Presbyterian as we are called; my parents before me were of the same profession; I was educated in that line. Since I became a man, I have examined for myself; and I have seen no cause to dissent. But, sir, the very day that the Presbyterians shall be established by law, and become a body politic, the same day Zachariah JOHNSTON will be a dissenter. Dissent from that religion I cannot in honesty, but from that establishement I will." And his name goes down to posterity in favor of the passage of the act for establishing Religious Freedom.One of his famous statements:
"Mr. Chairman, I am a Presbyterian, a rigid Presbyterian as we are called; my parents before me were of the same profession; I was educated in that line. Since I became a man, I have examined for myself; and I have seen no cause to dissent. But, sir, the very day that the Presbyterians shall be established by law, and become a body politic, the same day Zachariah JOHNSTON will be a dissenter. Dissent from that religion I cannot in honesty, but from that establishement I will." And his name goes down to posterity in favor of the passage of the act for establishing Religious Freedom.
May God bless these good men and women. I honor them, and will continue to honor them by posting this missive each and every time it is appropriate. And, as a genealogist, I will continue to look for and will find many more.
Bless their good hearts!
Taken at the Arizona Memorial, Pearl Harbor, HI on our trip to see Harmony, 2005
Monday, November 1, 2010
A busy, busy week!
This week was a bit busier than usual. But, we had a lot of fun and enjoyed some times with good friends.
Tuesday found me having lunch with my good friend, Pat Bowen. She's my visiting teacher, but she's also my friend. Neither of us had been to Cracker Barrel in awhile, so that's where we met. It was on the day when the wind was blowing hard across the central United States. The gusts were strong. And, while we were eating, it began to rain with a fierceness. Tornado warnings were out everywhere. One of them struck real, real close to Jordan and Melissa's house in southwestern Ohio. It blew their shed down and part of their fence. Thank goodness all of us were safe - including Erik and my sisters.
The next day, I ate with Karen Keck. She and I love to go out to lunch. We don't do it very often, but when we do - we pick up right where we left off. She's a lot of fun, too.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday found us in Columbus. Friday was our temple day, and we enjoyed the time we had both this week and last week with members of the Temple Presidency. This would be our last time working with them, for our new Temple Presidency begins their assignments on Monday.
Saturday, Kerry returned to work at the temple for 8 hours. They had asked if he would be able to, and he readily said yes! We have many new workers that need training, but during that training there is still a need for continuity in the work. We now have over 600 workers for our little temple!
He also didn't mind working, for it was the 66th anniversary of his parents' marriage. He felt that was honoring them, as well.
Orson and Shirley Lauritzen, shortly after their marriage in 1944.
All of the little trick-or-treaters were out and about Saturday evening. It reminded me so much of when all of our little ones would dress up and go out to beg for candy. I usually stayed at the house while Kerry took them out - either in the back of his pickup truck or in our van with the side door and the back door open.
Kerry and Peter and Harmony
Now, it's all of the little grandchildren that we get to enjoy seeing all dressed up!
JJ
Jayden
Justin
From bottom left going up: Shyanna, Bella, Christina, Angel, Ben
It was also a makeover week! I got sick of my hair and had about 4 inches cut off. I'll post a picture of it next week.
And, dear Melissa got 10 inches of her hair cut off and donated to Locks-of-Love. She looks adorable!
Melissa - I love her hair no matter what the length!
Now, it's time to bring all of this election stuff to a close. I'm tired of the adds, the phone calls, the mail, the email, the slandering and mudslinging. I've known who I'm going to vote for since mid-summer. Y'all quit bothering me.
But, I'm also grateful to live in a free country where we have the opportunity to vote.
This month, we wish a happy birthday to:
Ida - my mom - Nov 1 (she would have been 97 years old!!!)
Bill - Kerry's brother who died in Germany at age 19 - Nov 2
Mary Kay - my genealogy friend who died about 4-5 years ago - Nov 2
Ryan - Betty's grandson - Nov 3
Sarah - d/o Kerry's brother, David - on a mission in New Zealand - Nov 12
Noelle - g-dau of Kerry's sister, Content - Nov 27
Danette - d-i-l of Kerry's sister, Joy - Nov 27
Dane - s/o Kerry's brother, Kelly - Nov 28
Brett - s/o Kerry's sister, Joy - Nov 29
Miss Harmony! - our daughter!!! - Nov 29
And a happy anniversary to:
Content and Larry - Kerry's sister and b-i-l - Nov 28
And now, for my memory missive for this week!!!
This memory is not mine - it's Kerry's. But every time he tells me about it, I can't help laughing.
When Kerry was somewhere between ten and twelve years old, he decided to take a bath while his mom was cooking in the kitchen close by. He was #5 out of eleven children, so I'm sure her plate was pretty full most of the time.
Apparently the bathroom and the kitchen were fairly close in proximity, so she could hear when Kerry went in there to begin running the water. She called back to him to ask him how full it was.
He answered, saying that it was halfway. (In truth, it was halfway - but not halfway up - it was halfway to the back of the tub.)
She told him to immediately turn it off. (She thought it was halfway up the side of the tub.)
He said, "But, mom..."
She replied, "Kerry, please just turn the water off!"
Being the ever obedient child, he did it without complaint. This big ol' strapping boy took a bath in about two cups of water!!! He got clean enough, and his mom just never knew...
I'll bet she does now.
Kerry - at just about the age mentioned above...
Tuesday found me having lunch with my good friend, Pat Bowen. She's my visiting teacher, but she's also my friend. Neither of us had been to Cracker Barrel in awhile, so that's where we met. It was on the day when the wind was blowing hard across the central United States. The gusts were strong. And, while we were eating, it began to rain with a fierceness. Tornado warnings were out everywhere. One of them struck real, real close to Jordan and Melissa's house in southwestern Ohio. It blew their shed down and part of their fence. Thank goodness all of us were safe - including Erik and my sisters.
The next day, I ate with Karen Keck. She and I love to go out to lunch. We don't do it very often, but when we do - we pick up right where we left off. She's a lot of fun, too.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday found us in Columbus. Friday was our temple day, and we enjoyed the time we had both this week and last week with members of the Temple Presidency. This would be our last time working with them, for our new Temple Presidency begins their assignments on Monday.
Saturday, Kerry returned to work at the temple for 8 hours. They had asked if he would be able to, and he readily said yes! We have many new workers that need training, but during that training there is still a need for continuity in the work. We now have over 600 workers for our little temple!
He also didn't mind working, for it was the 66th anniversary of his parents' marriage. He felt that was honoring them, as well.
Orson and Shirley Lauritzen, shortly after their marriage in 1944.
All of the little trick-or-treaters were out and about Saturday evening. It reminded me so much of when all of our little ones would dress up and go out to beg for candy. I usually stayed at the house while Kerry took them out - either in the back of his pickup truck or in our van with the side door and the back door open.
Kerry and Peter and Harmony
Now, it's all of the little grandchildren that we get to enjoy seeing all dressed up!
JJ
Jayden
Justin
From bottom left going up: Shyanna, Bella, Christina, Angel, Ben
It was also a makeover week! I got sick of my hair and had about 4 inches cut off. I'll post a picture of it next week.
And, dear Melissa got 10 inches of her hair cut off and donated to Locks-of-Love. She looks adorable!
Melissa - I love her hair no matter what the length!
Now, it's time to bring all of this election stuff to a close. I'm tired of the adds, the phone calls, the mail, the email, the slandering and mudslinging. I've known who I'm going to vote for since mid-summer. Y'all quit bothering me.
But, I'm also grateful to live in a free country where we have the opportunity to vote.
This month, we wish a happy birthday to:
Ida - my mom - Nov 1 (she would have been 97 years old!!!)
Bill - Kerry's brother who died in Germany at age 19 - Nov 2
Mary Kay - my genealogy friend who died about 4-5 years ago - Nov 2
Ryan - Betty's grandson - Nov 3
Sarah - d/o Kerry's brother, David - on a mission in New Zealand - Nov 12
Noelle - g-dau of Kerry's sister, Content - Nov 27
Danette - d-i-l of Kerry's sister, Joy - Nov 27
Dane - s/o Kerry's brother, Kelly - Nov 28
Brett - s/o Kerry's sister, Joy - Nov 29
Miss Harmony! - our daughter!!! - Nov 29
And a happy anniversary to:
Content and Larry - Kerry's sister and b-i-l - Nov 28
And now, for my memory missive for this week!!!
This memory is not mine - it's Kerry's. But every time he tells me about it, I can't help laughing.
When Kerry was somewhere between ten and twelve years old, he decided to take a bath while his mom was cooking in the kitchen close by. He was #5 out of eleven children, so I'm sure her plate was pretty full most of the time.
Apparently the bathroom and the kitchen were fairly close in proximity, so she could hear when Kerry went in there to begin running the water. She called back to him to ask him how full it was.
He answered, saying that it was halfway. (In truth, it was halfway - but not halfway up - it was halfway to the back of the tub.)
She told him to immediately turn it off. (She thought it was halfway up the side of the tub.)
He said, "But, mom..."
She replied, "Kerry, please just turn the water off!"
Being the ever obedient child, he did it without complaint. This big ol' strapping boy took a bath in about two cups of water!!! He got clean enough, and his mom just never knew...
I'll bet she does now.
Kerry - at just about the age mentioned above...
Sunday, October 24, 2010
All the leaves are brown...
Alas, our beautiful autumn has reached its peak and is slowly coming to a close. Our weather is still warm, the days are still bright, the sky is still mostly blue, and life is good.
Kerry and I had another delightful week! I love having him home all the time!!! And, I think he likes being here, too. He gets to work on things that have been put on hold for years - things he likes to do.
Sometimes we go on little day trips. Sometimes we stay home. Sometimes we sleep in. Sometimes we're up quite early.
I forgot to mention a very important thing from last week. Erik ran another marathon, completing 26.2 miles in 4 hours 28 minutes! He wasn't real pleased with his time, but I'm floored!!! I would still be trying to get through it a week later. He did a lot of preparation for it, including this:
Yep. That's Erik soaking in an ICE BATH the night before. I don't know about all of this. I didn't teach him to do this - obviously!
And now for breaking news: Kerry has had another book published!!! Yippee for him!!! The publishers accepted another book manuscript and it is now in print! Here's the ordering information: www.publishamerica.com
Save Our Sam: S.O.S. by
K. Peter Lauritzen
ISBN: 978-1-4512-7577-3, 70 Pages, 6 x 9
Buy $24.95 (His second book)
K. Peter Lauritzen: His Story of the United States by
K. Peter Lauritzen
ISBN: 1-4241-2232-5, 297 pages, 6 x 9
Buy $32.95 (His first book)
I am so proud of him! This is another one of his lifelong dreams, and now he has attained it - with even some more in the works...
This past week, sister Fern was in the hospital for a couple of days. Kerry and I drove up to see her, and she was feeling much better than when she was admitted the night before. Sometimes her pain is very bad. On the way back home, Kerry and I stopped at Planktown, a country store where we buy meats, cheeses, grains, etc.
We also enjoyed a wonderful brunch at a small church in Lucas - a very small town close to us. They really treat the communities well as they try to shore people up during tough times.
The temple was very busy this past Friday. Many people from Charleston, WV were there, and they keep us hopping. I was so tired that night I was almost in tears. I prayed mightily, as did Kerry, that my feet and legs would rest up good and I would be free from pain. I woke up the next morning at 8:00 am and felt great!
I cannot get over the comments that I've been receiving concerning my little memory missives! The funny thing is this - the comments are coming from people that see me all the time! I don't think I've heard a single comment (except for s-i-l Marion) from any blood relatives - the ones they're intended for! >:(
Oh, well! Here we go again:
For as long as I can remember, I have played the piano. Music was always part of my home. My dad played records that contained beautiful music all the time. I believe my talent comes through my dad. My poor mom had no rhythm and couldn't really sing very well at all. But that didn't matter - she sang anyway.
Dad could always keep time very well. His dream was to have been a conductor in a symphony - but that wasn't to be. Perhaps if he'd had musical training, he would have enjoyed it even more.
My sisters were/are all musical. But, when they were growing up in the hills of Kentucky and the hollers of West Virginia, mom and dad just didn't have the money for any musical lessons for them. None of them can play any musical instrument at all. But when the four of us sing, we blend perfectly in several harmonies.
My parents got me a little piano for Christmas when I was four years old. That year, I was pounding out "Joy to the World". My mom often said that was the only Christmas music we had that year. Through the years, I learned how to play a few more songs on that little piano. I still have it to this day.
I put Mr. Eddie in the picture with it so you could see the relative size of it. Mr. Eddie weighs 8 lbs. It's not much bigger than him.
I even played for the children's organization at church for several years right after I got that piano. We had our Primary meetings on Saturday mornings, when it was hard to get some of the other adults out to the church. For awhile, all I could really play was "The Golden Plates" - so that's what we sang for a long time.
My dad was a refrigeration/air conditioning repairman, a skill he learned in the Navy and continued on with more training here. One day, he was repairing an appliance for a woman who taught piano lessons in her basement. He listened for awhile, and asked if she took on new students. She said she did.
About that same time, a lady in our ward was selling her piano. She was getting a new one from her mother, who lived in California. They lived in Danville, a town a few miles away from here.
On the night of my birthday in 1963, I heard a vehicle pull into our driveway. I didn't think too much about it, for I thought it was probably one of my sisters dropping by. Or, since dad was bishop, that it might be someone who needed to talk to him. He did stand at the door and talk to someone for a few minutes.
Then, some furniture was moved, and in rolled my birthday present! My best birthday present I've ever received! My "new" piano!!!! At 8 years old, I thought I was the richest girl on the planet.
I played and played and played. And in the fall, I began my lessons. That was a different experience, for I had played by ear for many years. Now, I was going to have to learn to discipline myself to play the notes written on the paper. It was harder than you can imagine.
My piano lessons began at $1 per week. Mom and dad always found that dollar for me. However, after a few years, my teacher had to raise it to $1.25. That was a different story. We didn't know if I could continue or not. But, dad was determined to provide lessons for me. There were a few weeks (probably more than a few) where I paid in coins, after digging through couch cushions, coat pockets, etc. But, we always found it. And, we always found it again when the cost went to $1.50.
I tried to make sure I kept up with my practicing, for I knew how hard it was on mom and dad to pay for those lessons.
That piano "base" led me on to play many more instruments. When I was in marching band, I found it easy to pick up an instrument and begin to play. String instruments were a bit harder for me, but eventually I could play many of them, too. In my mind, I would picture the piano keyboard, then the notes would be clearer to me on another instrument.
How can I ever show my gratitude for mom and dad's sacrifice? By keeping up what they took the time, money and effort to see that I had in my young life. That sacrifice has led me to play for countless weddings, funerals, Christmas gatherings, family gatherings, and years and years of Church meetings.
It also paved the way for each of my own children to enjoy music. While they were at home, they filled our home with music - good music. They had their lessons on my old piano, and the sacrifice was hard for us, too. But, how I loved hearing them play and work out the melody on a song they had never seen before. How I loved seeing them go on to play other instruments. And how I LOVED when we gathered around the piano and sang as a family. Our six voices blended and harmonized, just like with me and my sisters.
My piano is still in my home and is still being used. It's a little rougher for the wear. It has some battle scars. It's a bit out of tune. But oh, how I love that piano - for the joy I had in playing and accomplishing a difficult piece - and for the comfort it brought me in times of sadness.
Till next week!
Miss P
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Cozy evenings at home...
Autumn continues to be beautiful here in the Ohio! Though the colors are not quite as resplendent as in years past, they still continue to take my breath away. The muted colors usually happen when there has not been enough rain.
We spent some time getting our house ready for winter this week. Even though the days are warm, they're not always going to be warm. Before we know it, the wind will be howling and it will be cold enough for coats.
But, Tuesday we went to the temple with Fern and Betty. They haven't been able to go for awhile, due to some health concerns either they or their husbands have been battling. We had a nice easy day, followed by dinner at Mimi's - one of our favorite Columbus eateries.
Wednesday was one of our favorite days - another rummage sale!!! Kerry and I LOVE rummage sales! We find all sorts of treasures. I particularly like a used clothing store in Bellville, where you can fill your bag for $2. I've discovered some real finds - items from lots of name-brand companies.
Thursday was a fun day - we drove to Washington Court House to watch JJ play tag football. We LOVED watching these little guys play!!! They were so cute. I also fixed chicken, potato salad, and red velvet cupcakes for everyone's dinner. That saved Melissa (who didn't feel that good anyway) from having to worry about dinner for everyone. I think they liked it, for they didn't turn down the leftovers.
Hike!
Look at him run!
Justin and Jayden
Learning about football from grandpa...
The grandboys went to the pumpkin patch to choose their pumpkins.
We had the most delightful surprise a couple of weeks ago. We received a porcelain replica of the Washington Temple from a company in northern Utah. There was no card with it. I told Kerry he must have ordered it and forgotten it. He told me I must have ordered it and forgotten it. No matter who ordered it - it was beautiful!
We later learned that Miss Harmony was the one who ordered it!!! It now sits in a place of prominence in our living room on our "Kerry and Peggy" table. Behind it is a hand-painted Russian egg that Erik asked a member in Russia to paint for our 27th anniversary. We treasure those items - and anything else that reminds us of our sweet marriage.
I really appreciate all of the comments sent to me about my memory of my dad and the coal mines last week. I suppose I will continue these little additions to my weekly missives.
And now for this week:
My mother was a force to be reckoned with! You just didn't mess with mom - or one of her babies.
One night, she and I were on our way home from church, where I had attended my weekly youth meeting. I needed some notebook paper, and we didn't have Walmarts or anything like that in those days. We did have a little corner grocery store, where one could buy penny candy, shoelaces, etc.
She happened to miss the driveway, but it didn't matter, for the next drive also connected to the little store. There was a bit of a grassy field between the parking lot and the store. I walked through the little field and headed for the front door.
Before reaching the door, there was a wall of decorative concrete block. As I rounded that wall, I happened upon 3-4 teenage boys who were circling around on their bikes. I squared up, went through them, went into the store and bought my paper.
When I came back out, those boys were still there. They were off their bikes, and now they circled around me, calling me names and poking me in the chest. I was mortified, for I was sure they were going to do terrible things to me. I was also sure mom couldn't see me because of the decorative wall.
In the blink of an eye, I heard something akin to a bull crashing through the field and headed toward me. It was my mom! Smoke was coming from her nostrils and her ears, and her boobs were swinging back and forth something fierce with her arms pumping away. (You get the picture!) When those boys turned around to see what it was, they saw the look on her face and knew they were dead meat if they didn't get out of there quick. Mom grew up being the oldest of a family that had SIX BOYS, plus a little sister that died at 3 years old. To mom, taking on these boys were nothing compared to what she had grown up with.
I was never so relieved to see my mom in my whole life. I don't know what those boys would have done. But, as long as my mom was nearby, those boys were close to being ground down into a greasy spot!
Till next week...
Miss P
We spent some time getting our house ready for winter this week. Even though the days are warm, they're not always going to be warm. Before we know it, the wind will be howling and it will be cold enough for coats.
But, Tuesday we went to the temple with Fern and Betty. They haven't been able to go for awhile, due to some health concerns either they or their husbands have been battling. We had a nice easy day, followed by dinner at Mimi's - one of our favorite Columbus eateries.
Wednesday was one of our favorite days - another rummage sale!!! Kerry and I LOVE rummage sales! We find all sorts of treasures. I particularly like a used clothing store in Bellville, where you can fill your bag for $2. I've discovered some real finds - items from lots of name-brand companies.
Thursday was a fun day - we drove to Washington Court House to watch JJ play tag football. We LOVED watching these little guys play!!! They were so cute. I also fixed chicken, potato salad, and red velvet cupcakes for everyone's dinner. That saved Melissa (who didn't feel that good anyway) from having to worry about dinner for everyone. I think they liked it, for they didn't turn down the leftovers.
Hike!
Look at him run!
Justin and Jayden
Learning about football from grandpa...
The grandboys went to the pumpkin patch to choose their pumpkins.
We had the most delightful surprise a couple of weeks ago. We received a porcelain replica of the Washington Temple from a company in northern Utah. There was no card with it. I told Kerry he must have ordered it and forgotten it. He told me I must have ordered it and forgotten it. No matter who ordered it - it was beautiful!
We later learned that Miss Harmony was the one who ordered it!!! It now sits in a place of prominence in our living room on our "Kerry and Peggy" table. Behind it is a hand-painted Russian egg that Erik asked a member in Russia to paint for our 27th anniversary. We treasure those items - and anything else that reminds us of our sweet marriage.
I really appreciate all of the comments sent to me about my memory of my dad and the coal mines last week. I suppose I will continue these little additions to my weekly missives.
And now for this week:
My mother was a force to be reckoned with! You just didn't mess with mom - or one of her babies.
One night, she and I were on our way home from church, where I had attended my weekly youth meeting. I needed some notebook paper, and we didn't have Walmarts or anything like that in those days. We did have a little corner grocery store, where one could buy penny candy, shoelaces, etc.
She happened to miss the driveway, but it didn't matter, for the next drive also connected to the little store. There was a bit of a grassy field between the parking lot and the store. I walked through the little field and headed for the front door.
Before reaching the door, there was a wall of decorative concrete block. As I rounded that wall, I happened upon 3-4 teenage boys who were circling around on their bikes. I squared up, went through them, went into the store and bought my paper.
When I came back out, those boys were still there. They were off their bikes, and now they circled around me, calling me names and poking me in the chest. I was mortified, for I was sure they were going to do terrible things to me. I was also sure mom couldn't see me because of the decorative wall.
In the blink of an eye, I heard something akin to a bull crashing through the field and headed toward me. It was my mom! Smoke was coming from her nostrils and her ears, and her boobs were swinging back and forth something fierce with her arms pumping away. (You get the picture!) When those boys turned around to see what it was, they saw the look on her face and knew they were dead meat if they didn't get out of there quick. Mom grew up being the oldest of a family that had SIX BOYS, plus a little sister that died at 3 years old. To mom, taking on these boys were nothing compared to what she had grown up with.
I was never so relieved to see my mom in my whole life. I don't know what those boys would have done. But, as long as my mom was nearby, those boys were close to being ground down into a greasy spot!
Till next week...
Miss P
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Please help me I'm fallin'
Oh, it is SO beautiful at this time of year!!! Ohio is a wonderful place to be in autumn. I was doing a bit of driving yesterday, and on each turn it just got prettier and prettier. I was taking pictures all day. No, I won't put them all here.
This was also my mom's favorite time of year. She also dreaded it. Her father and two of her brothers died during autumn within four years. Mom herself died during this time of year.
Nonetheless, I love it.
Kerry and I continue to work at the temple each Friday. It's a smaller temple, not bit like the ones most people associate with in Salt Lake City. But, it still contains all of the important features that a large temple has - and it's still the Lord's house.
Columbus Ohio Temple
After we finished working there Friday, we met up with our Ohio kids to celebrate JJ's 6th birthday!!! He's such a cute little guy. He's thoroughly enjoying school, and can't understand why it has to stop for the weekend. He's also been playing tag football, with his daddy as assistant coach.
JJ and his football uniform.
Getting their picture taken at Chuck E Cheese
The finished product.
A more traditional look.
Those boys of mine.
Erik and his roommate, Oscar. Oscar is a Fulbright scholar from the Phillipines. He will be finishing up his doctorate at the end of the year, and can return to his native land going right into professorship. If he stays here, it will be a few more years before he can attain that status. He has been an excellent example of hard work.
We also had to go to the final fair of the season - the Loudonville Street Fair. I'm telling you, we love small-town America! Of course, we spent a lot of time in the cow tent. Mr. Kerry and his cows!
He always guides me through the tent very carefully, warning me that cows can and do kick backwards. He kept wondering where all of the dairy cows were, for the tent we were in was mostly beef cows. I kept asking him how in the world he could tell, for most of them were laying down. He just knew. I guess you have to look underneath.
Two sheep all wrapped up.
Look how much this pumpkin weighed! I think it was a pumpkin. It wasn't bright orange, so it might have been some other sort of squash.
Amish farmers gather their corn shocks up. On the road we were on, the Amish farmers were everywhere, working their land the old-fashioned way - draft horses and plows. Out of respect for them, I do not take their pictures. They prefer that we don't - it's a graven image.
I've decided to begin adding something new to my little missive. It will mainly be for my own children and grandchildren, but you are still welcome to read it.
I'm going to be adding a memory from my own past that can help to preserve our family's history.
This week, it will be a reflection on those miners who have been trapped below ground in Chile. Each time there is such an incident, my thoughts go back to my father, who was a miner in the coal fields of West Virginia.
He worked in those mines before I was born, but the effect of it never left him. As a matter of fact, it left him with severe claustrophobia for the rest of his life. Once, our little family took dad with us to Columbus to visit COSI (Center of Science and Industry). It's a wonderful, "hands-on" museum that is especially tailored to young people. We would always pack our lunches and eat in the cafeteria in the basement, where they had lockers to store our food.
Dad enjoyed all of the displays. After our lunch, they had replicated a coal mine close by. It even had a canary in a little cage beside the entrance (to tell the miners if gas had built up inside. If the bird was laying dead with its feet up, don't go in the mine.)
As I showed the mine entrance to dad, I asked him if he wanted to go inside. He took a couple of steps, then backed right out. He couldn't do it. He said it was too real.
I'll probably not ever know how hard it was for him to get into those coal cars that would drive the miners 4-5 miles (or more!) deep into the hills of West Virginia. I'll never know the closeness of the ceiling, for they had to tuck their heads down to prevent serious injuries. I'll never know the blackness of being underground for hours. I experienced it once in Mammoth Cave, but in just a few seconds the lights came back on. It was horrible.
I'll never know hard it was for my mom to try to get my dad's black clothes clean, or how good he felt after a bath. That's where one of our common old sayings came from. The father usually bathed first, then the kids. By the time the baby got bathed, the water was usually pitch black. Hence: "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater".
But, dad did say something interesting. When you went to work, you went with white folks, Indians, blacks, etc. But, when you stepped out after a day's work, you were all the same color.
Bless his heart. And bless the hearts of those miners and their families in Chile. And Pennsylvania. And West Virginia. And Kentucky. And Wales. And Utah. And...
From dad's collection of pictures:
The entrance to the coal mine.
Going to work at the West Virginia coal mine.
Hauling out the coal.
Some of the miners.
A mule and the coal cars.
Dad after a day's work in the coal mines.
The finished product.
I'm grateful dad worked so hard in a job that not many would want. Sister Betty was born in West Virginia when dad worked in those mines. They lived in the coal camps. They had to buy their beans and such at the company store with scrip. The mines really owned you.
Bless his good heart. I miss him.
This was also my mom's favorite time of year. She also dreaded it. Her father and two of her brothers died during autumn within four years. Mom herself died during this time of year.
Nonetheless, I love it.
Kerry and I continue to work at the temple each Friday. It's a smaller temple, not bit like the ones most people associate with in Salt Lake City. But, it still contains all of the important features that a large temple has - and it's still the Lord's house.
Columbus Ohio Temple
After we finished working there Friday, we met up with our Ohio kids to celebrate JJ's 6th birthday!!! He's such a cute little guy. He's thoroughly enjoying school, and can't understand why it has to stop for the weekend. He's also been playing tag football, with his daddy as assistant coach.
JJ and his football uniform.
Getting their picture taken at Chuck E Cheese
The finished product.
A more traditional look.
Those boys of mine.
Erik and his roommate, Oscar. Oscar is a Fulbright scholar from the Phillipines. He will be finishing up his doctorate at the end of the year, and can return to his native land going right into professorship. If he stays here, it will be a few more years before he can attain that status. He has been an excellent example of hard work.
We also had to go to the final fair of the season - the Loudonville Street Fair. I'm telling you, we love small-town America! Of course, we spent a lot of time in the cow tent. Mr. Kerry and his cows!
He always guides me through the tent very carefully, warning me that cows can and do kick backwards. He kept wondering where all of the dairy cows were, for the tent we were in was mostly beef cows. I kept asking him how in the world he could tell, for most of them were laying down. He just knew. I guess you have to look underneath.
Two sheep all wrapped up.
Look how much this pumpkin weighed! I think it was a pumpkin. It wasn't bright orange, so it might have been some other sort of squash.
Amish farmers gather their corn shocks up. On the road we were on, the Amish farmers were everywhere, working their land the old-fashioned way - draft horses and plows. Out of respect for them, I do not take their pictures. They prefer that we don't - it's a graven image.
I've decided to begin adding something new to my little missive. It will mainly be for my own children and grandchildren, but you are still welcome to read it.
I'm going to be adding a memory from my own past that can help to preserve our family's history.
This week, it will be a reflection on those miners who have been trapped below ground in Chile. Each time there is such an incident, my thoughts go back to my father, who was a miner in the coal fields of West Virginia.
He worked in those mines before I was born, but the effect of it never left him. As a matter of fact, it left him with severe claustrophobia for the rest of his life. Once, our little family took dad with us to Columbus to visit COSI (Center of Science and Industry). It's a wonderful, "hands-on" museum that is especially tailored to young people. We would always pack our lunches and eat in the cafeteria in the basement, where they had lockers to store our food.
Dad enjoyed all of the displays. After our lunch, they had replicated a coal mine close by. It even had a canary in a little cage beside the entrance (to tell the miners if gas had built up inside. If the bird was laying dead with its feet up, don't go in the mine.)
As I showed the mine entrance to dad, I asked him if he wanted to go inside. He took a couple of steps, then backed right out. He couldn't do it. He said it was too real.
I'll probably not ever know how hard it was for him to get into those coal cars that would drive the miners 4-5 miles (or more!) deep into the hills of West Virginia. I'll never know the closeness of the ceiling, for they had to tuck their heads down to prevent serious injuries. I'll never know the blackness of being underground for hours. I experienced it once in Mammoth Cave, but in just a few seconds the lights came back on. It was horrible.
I'll never know hard it was for my mom to try to get my dad's black clothes clean, or how good he felt after a bath. That's where one of our common old sayings came from. The father usually bathed first, then the kids. By the time the baby got bathed, the water was usually pitch black. Hence: "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater".
But, dad did say something interesting. When you went to work, you went with white folks, Indians, blacks, etc. But, when you stepped out after a day's work, you were all the same color.
Bless his heart. And bless the hearts of those miners and their families in Chile. And Pennsylvania. And West Virginia. And Kentucky. And Wales. And Utah. And...
From dad's collection of pictures:
The entrance to the coal mine.
Going to work at the West Virginia coal mine.
Hauling out the coal.
Some of the miners.
A mule and the coal cars.
Dad after a day's work in the coal mines.
The finished product.
I'm grateful dad worked so hard in a job that not many would want. Sister Betty was born in West Virginia when dad worked in those mines. They lived in the coal camps. They had to buy their beans and such at the company store with scrip. The mines really owned you.
Bless his good heart. I miss him.
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