Joseph James Pehrson - Dad

At 3:01 a.m. my phone rang.  Mike was calling with the expected news that Dad had slipped the bonds of this earth and been reunited with Mom, his mother and father, sister, and extended family in those glorious courts on high. 

Just a week ago today I sat in the Nauvoo Temple with Felicia as she received her endowment.  My mind was crowded with emotions and thoughts that kept coming, unbidden and not easily dismissed, of her wedding and festivities that were impending the following day.  Rich, Wanda, Joey, Phil, Hannah, Cherstin, Brittany, and Tom were all in attendance.  Carlie, Robert, Dan, and Julia had all elected to stay at the hotel with the children so that their spouses and daughter could be there with Felicia.  Mike was back in Denver with his little brood so that Desi could come...but Desi was en route from the airport in St. Louis, racing to  make that 5 pm session.  My sadness was gut-wrenching when the Temple President decided to close the door and proceed with the session.  I didn't know where Desi was and my sadness was profound.   I thought how that feeling must be so similar to those of loved ones waiting for their spouses, children, parents and siblings on the other side and yet, because of choices and events in this life, the door was closed and eternity rolled on.  I knew that Desi was doing all that she could to be there...but she was missing.

The session continued and I struggled to lose the forboding that continued to envelope me.  I wondered where she was, had she given up and gone back to the hotel, was she okay?  I sat in a session that taught of the greatest love story ever told - of our Heavenly Father and His desire to bring each of His children home and the efforts of our Savior to assist in that great work and I didn't know where Desi was...was she home?  It is not usual that I am the first through the veil - but I was on that occasion and there are not words to describe the joy I felt when I entered the Celestial Room and found Desi, sitting on a couch, waiting for the rest of us.  Again I marvelled at those feelings, knowing that they must be somewhat similar to those who are waiting for us on the other side and for us who are anxious to reunite with loved ones gone ahead.  I thought of Mom waiting for Dad and Dad's desire to be with Mom and wondered how much longer they would have to wait.  I thought of covenants made by each of us and prayed that we would all work with all our might to keep those covenants and to repent so that we could all enter into that glory - to be together forever.  Heaven just won't be complete without each one that I love there.  I thought of how much each of us are a work in progress - and - knowing that salvation is a personal endeavor - prayed that each of us would undertake that work...to renew our covenants, repent, study, develop our testimonies, and seek to know the Lord.  It is not a work that can be done for anyone else...and really...putting aside my own pride and selfish endeavors is hard enough for me.  I also thought of how exaltation is a family endeavor - that we can never give up praying for one another, serving one another, being kind, worrying about, and loving each other with all our might...even when it seems hopeless.  It's really about keeping our covenants and trusting in the Lord - knowing that each of us are His work and desiring to be involved in His work in whatever way He needs us to be.

One day each of us will return "home" just as Dad has done today.  We will see the reality of the eternities.  We will know in every fiber of our being whether or not we qualify for the blessings of being together forever.

On many occasions after Mom passed away, Dad and I discussed these very same principles and doctrines.  He was reading the scriptures voraciously, listening to talks on BYUtv, reading books by general authorities, and searching his very soul.  He had no doubt that Mom qualified for all that our Father has to offer His children...but he wasn't sure that he would ever be good enough.  I bought him "Believing Christ" and "Following Christ" - both by Stephen Robinson, knowing that what he was experiencing was grief and he just needed the reassurance of all that he already knew and the hope and faith to continue to endure without Mom at his side.  What I witnessed in Dad was most remarkable to me.  His prayers were for the Lord to help him understand what he needed to learn and do and to know the Lord's will.  There was NEVER any recrimination or anger - just the tender pleadings of Dad to understand and accept Mom's passing and the desire to do whatever the Lord wanted him to do.  He knows the gospel is true, that Jesus is our Savior and Redeemer, and that we can all be together - forever.  And his most urgent desire is for all of us to receive these truths for ourselves - so that we can be a forever family.  Tonight he has returned home.  It is my prayer that we all do whatever it takes to do the same.  I love you, Dad and Mom.

Birthdays...

June is a month filled with birthdays - Jimmy and Hannah's on the 5th, Mom and William's on the 11th, Shauna's on the 12th, Rich's on the 13th, and Mike's on the 22nd.  Put Father's Day in there and sometimes I feel like I'm "celebrated" out!  But this year I'm just feeling meloncholy.... 

They say that the mother is the heart of a home and that certainly is true for my Mom.  I talked to Dad on Monday but Dad wasn't "home" and I don't think he really will be until he is finally with Mom.  Somehow I wish I could talk to her too.  I actually do talk to her...most often I just ask Heavenly Father to relay information to her...and I know and feel her presence in my life...just wish I could actually see her.  I can't imagine heaven without her. 

Mom was born on the 11th of June 1931 in Ethel, Lewis, Washington to my grandparents, Gilbert and Wanda Bingham Roskelley.  She was named Barbara Jean Roskelley.  She was the fourth child in the family, with Jack 11 years older, Juanita almost 10 years older, and Gale almost five years older.  Vance would be born 18 months later.

I sometimes think I have an impression of the kind of child Mom must have been - a dreamer, kind, in her own world.  She shared with me several times the exasperation that Grandma would have because she just seemed to march to her own drummer. Evidently Uncle Vance would get really frustrated because his evening chore was to dry the dishes but Mom would take so long just to get to the washing that he would be there all evening.  I guess Grandma finally gave her a time limit to get them done or she would have to do the entire work herself because Uncle Vance felt inprisoned by her "lollygagging around".  Grandma told me that she would often tell Mom to go and straighten her room up and get ready to go (wherever they were going) - that she had 10 minutes or something of that sort.  When Grandma would go in she would find that Mom had taken everything out of the drawers and closet and the room was a huge mess because Mom was "cleaning" it.  That propensity stayed with her - I can remember her cleaning closets the same way as a kid.  Dad would complain that the house was destroyed but the drawer or closet was clean!  LOL

When Mom was 7 the family moved to California.  These years were both good and turbulent at the same time.  My Grandfather drank quite heavily at this time and the family dynamic must have been quite stressful.  Mom would tell us that Grandpa had a garage or shed that housed his tools - both garden and otherwise.  Mom would tell us that they were mounted on the wall and an outline was drawn around it as the designated spot for said tool.  As that tool was used it was placed back in its' proper spot AFTER being cleaned, sharpened, oiled, etc.  I guess Grandpa was very meticulous about this and deviation was not tolerated.  Grandma was also very organized and provident living was something the family practiced well.  Rows of canned veggies and fruit as well as flour, sugar, and other stores kept the family cared for, especially during the difficult years of the depression and war.

Mom remembered quite fondly going fishing out on the bay with Grandpa and Uncle Vance.  She loved to fish and she loved the ocean.  Often, when we visited California, she would look out over the bay and there was a wistfulness in her eyes.  I wish I had been more attentive and could ask now about the memories that were evident on her face then....  She would tell us that Grandpa would bring beer out with them when they were fishing and he would give some to her and Vance.  When we lived in Germany she would smell the hops in the brewery behind our home and reminisce about those days with her Dad.  She loved that smell...and she loved beer...or maybe she just loved the memories.

Mom was an extraordinarily creative person - I remember a time in Germany when she and Dad had purchased a second-hand couch and chair for our living room.  It was dark blue...not the best in the world and not the worst either.  They were reluctant to spend a great deal of money on furniture as our situation was temporary and we wouldn't take anything (or much of it) back to the states - temporary for 8 years anyway! LOL  We already had a coffee table, a couple of end tables, and a wooden rocking chair.  It was a hodge-podge of stuff...but not for long.  Mom went to the store, bought some bright yellow flowered fabric and made pillows for the couch, cushions for the rocking chair, and covered the lamp shades and the room looked like a designer had just decorated.  It was truly amazing - and at very little cost. 

I also remember wanting a new dress and deciding I wanted to sew it.  Mom and I selected the fabic but there was only enough to make a size1, the only pattern the store had was for a 16 and I wore an 8...somehow Mom and I got it all done and it became one of my favorite dresses.  When nearly that same episode played out with Desi and prom I had a great deal of enjoyment remembering those times with Mom.  Wanda and I still snicker over Desi's episode and it reminds us all that creativity has more to do with the possibilities we see than the resources we have.

Perhaps the greatest quality my Mom has is her ability to understand and to love unconditionally.  You can tell her anything...and she understands your heart.  She has wisdom, patience, and kindness that is truly Christlike.  My Uncle Vance would often say that he knew the Devil was hoping that she would be his advocate because she would believe in his capacity to change. 

I remember a time when Jimmy and Chad were NOT doing the things they should.  I, older and wiser by 1/2, was sure the answer was tough love...that Mom and Dad needed to hold a firm line and let them suffer the consequences instead of bailing them out all the time.  I stated that emphatically.  To which Mom, with tears in her eyes, stated, "Karen, I just have to believe that charity triumphs everytime."  She was so right and it so did...not right away...but each of us knows that Mom's love for us is pure and true and there is nothing that she won't understand and love us through.

Oh - I so wish I could have a two-way conversation with her...could...actually I know that she is here and understands and knows my heart...I just wish I could hear her voice and listen to her counsel instead of thinking I know what she would say....

I've copied an autobiography she wrote here...but first I want to say how much I love you, Mom.  I hope that you and Dad are reunited soon and that each of us does all that we can so that we can be together forever.  Karen

Personal Story by Barbara Jean Roskelley Pehrson

"My life began at Ethel, Lewis Co., Washington with assistance of one Dr. Ward and my mother, Wamda Bingham, and my father, Gilbert Roskelley on June the 11, 1931 at 1:00 at night. Perhaps this is the reason that I'm a little late at getting started at anything.

"My parents were originally from Smithfield, Cache Co., Utah. I was the fourth child born to my parents and perhaps the reason there weren't too many more. The oldest was Jack Arthur, born on the 15th of Dec. 1919, next Juanita, 19th of Oct. 1921, Melvin Gale, the 13th Nov 1926, myself, then last but far from least, Vance Bingham born 14 of Jan 1933.

"I was blessed at home 3 days after I was born because the missionaries were holding district conference at our house. Our house was known as the "half way house" because it was half way between Portland, Oregon and Tacoma, Washington and the missionaries were regular guests during their travels. When I was about 6 months old the family had a bad siege of illness and mother, though she was so ill herself, managed to bring us all through it. As a result of this illness my father was taken to Bremerton, Washington to a VA hospital to remove the scar tissue from his throat and he stayed there for 3 months. When he was released we moved to Smithfield, Utah. It was here that I attended kindergarten and first grade.

"I can remember taking dancing lessons for which we paid with a pound of butter.

(*Note from Karen - Mom would tell us that she and Uncle Vance loved the freedom they found in Smithfield and played for hours in the fields that were part of this tiny town. When peas were nearing harvest time Mom could easily be found sitting in the midst of the peas, eating them - pods and all. I doubt there was a crop that Mom didn't appreciate!)

"In 1936 my parents got a divorce and my father went to Oakland, California. The following year my mother went out to California and they were remarried by Bishop Cheshire of Vallejo, California. She came back to Smithfield and took us out. My father met us at the train. We lived at 1515 Donald Ave. in Martinez, California. One of the things that is vivid in my mind was sleeping between trains at the Ogden Depot, then also the terrible heat at Roseville, Californa when we stepped off the air conditioned train on a few minutes stopover. We got off to see my aunt.

"We lived in Martinez for a year when we moved to the small residential area of Clyde. Here we lived for 3 years at 162 Norman Ave. There was only one small store called the canteen. From here we took the bus to Concord to attend the Concord Elementary School. It was here that I broke my wrist. Also while we were here, World War II broke out. We still attended the Martinez Ward of the Oakland Stake.

"While we lived in Clyde the missionaries were frequent guests in our home.

"There was an old hotel in Clyed and a large company of soldiers stationed here. They were quite fascinating to me so Vance and I would sit by the hour and watch them drill. Invariably we'd talk to them and I'd tell them I had a pretty sister and they could come down and see her. Some of the characters I brought down to see my sister! We adopted several young fellows and Mother was very good to them. They were so fond of her home-made bread and fried potatoes.

"While we lived in Clyde Jack made several trips on oil tankers overseas. He went to Russian, the Phillipines, Hawaii, and many places. Upon his return from Russia he entered the Air Force. He was sent to the Presidio of Monterey. I can remember spending Christmas 1941 with him there. He had just gotten out of the hospital from mumps and then an attack of appendicitis.

"On Dec. 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor was attacked and in May of 1942 we moved to Concord to a home of our own. It was at 2602 Sycamore St.

"I spent the rest of my grammar school and high school days.

"I graduated from grammar school in June of 1945. Gale was in the service and Jack was in England and France. Jack had married a girl by the name of Hilda Gertrude Marsden. Juanita, at this time, had been in New Orleans, La. as an ammunitions inspector. Gale married Ruth Rhoda.

"My high school years were active but happy ones. Mother worked at the Post Office. I attended Mt. Diablo Union High School. When I was a sophomore mother was in the hospital for an operation, these were difficult years for her as she was having trouble with Daddy besides not feeling well.

"In high school I was active in sports and in journalism. I dated a lot. My life seemed to be centered around our Ward activities. We still belonged to the Martinez Ward.

"One thing that did give me a bad time was poison oak. It is a shrub that grows wild and I was extremely allergic to it. Wherever the pollen would touch me I would break out with water blistes and the affected area would swell. There were many, many times that my eyes and mouth were swollen shut with it.

"We took a couple of vacations about this time. We used to go to Weber Lake, a lake located about 50 miles north of Truckee, California. Then, during the summer when I was a sophomore we took (Mother, Vance and I) a trip to Smithfield, Utah during the summer. While we were on this trip Vance and I learned to drive a car. I nearly took some gas pumps out in Nevada trying to drive the car in the gas stations.

"Also, along in here, Mother and I went by train to Los Angeles. We left about 9:00 one morning. My brother Jack commented on my face, that it was quite flushed. By the time we reached L.A. my eyes were swollen shut. I had been swimming and on a fireside outing the night before. I had poison oak and we weren't able to see a thing until a day or two before we came home. Poor Mom and her vacation.

"During my last year or two of grammar school, Gale was living with and working for a family named Ledfords. They lived in Santa Rita Park near Dos Palos. He went to Dos Palos to school. It was here that he met Ruth, his wife. She taught school at the high school. Gale had a lovely voice and sang in a lot of the school activities. We used to go down for the different things. One time while in the eighth grade I went down and stayed a week with Ruth. This was really a thrill as I thought Gale was tops and I was very proud to go to school and be introduced as his little sister. At this point I am just jotting a few of the things that stand out in my mind.

"My senior year at high school was somewhat of a trying one. I seemed to have been ill quite a lot with just simple things, colds on colds, measles, and poison oak.

"Two weeks before graduation I got a choice case of poison oak and never got back to school. With efforts of one of my teachers, Mrs. White, I graduated. Then graduation night my face, arms, and hands were still quite bad. Mother took me down and drove the car right behind the bleachers (it was held in the stadium). I walked up with the other kids, then right after graduation I went straight home. Some of my friends came over after.

"At the close of the summer in 1949, when 18 years old, I made application to go to the Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. Upon receiving my acceptance, we (my mother and I) made preparations for my trip and stay. I had also received an invitation to visit a family by the name of Russell in Torrington, Wyoming and so it was decided that I might visit them before entering school. During the past summer I had met a young fellow by the name of Jerry Russell and for some strange reason I had it in my mind I wanted to marry him. Mother, being more experienced and wiser than I, realized that he was not the one for me and so felt that if I accepted the invitation and saw this young man in his own home I would realize it my self. Needless to say, a stay of less than the planned time made me aware that though he was a fine young man, he was not of my faith and not the one for me.

"I returned to Provo, Utah and went directly to the dormatory where I was assigned a room. I was there a couple days early due to my terminated visit so very few of the other students had arrived.

"The room which I received was number 339 on the 3rd floor. It was sometimes called the "new dorm 1" as it had just been completed.

"I was to have three roommates who had been there previously and who knew each other. They were Arlene Fernely from Portland, Oregon, Viola Nicholson from Midvale, Utah, and Norma Berrett from Draper, Utah.

"My roommates were exceptionally good to me as they took me in and included me in everything they did. From then on I was introduced and had no difficulty in getting acquianted. Also it was easy for me to learn the accepted procedures of the campus.

"Just before Christmas I made arrangements with the California Club for bus reservations on a bus chartered by them. About two weeks before the vacation I was hospitalized for a nervous condition but on the day school was out I was released in time to catch the bus. I shall never forget the amount of snow that had fallen while in the hospital and the ice cicles which reached from the roofs to the ground. We had a very nice trip home but were in general agreement that we would be happy to get back to Utah and our schooling. A funny things was that even though it wasnt much above 0 degrees in Utah we nearly froze to death in sunny California.

"I continued my schooling and then, on the ninth of March, while studying at the Provo Library I met a young man named Joseph Pehrson. He, along with an old friend who introduced me to Joe, took me home to the dorm that evening. In about a week I received a phone call asking for a date with Joe and from then on I dated him regularly.

"Then about in May Joe asked me if I would marry him. I didn't give him a definite answer as I had been going with a fellow, and was quite fond of him, who was in Tahitit. He had gone with some other return missionaries to take a yacht down to the saints there and would be back in three months. When the time came that Phil was to return I felt pretty sure that it was Joe that I wanted to marry.

"In June when school was out for the summer I returned to my home in Concord, California with the understanding that Joe and I would marry at a later date.

"Along about the 4th of July 1950 Joe made a trip down to Concord to visit with me.

"In August I returned back to Provo, Utah. I came back to school a week early and stayed with my roommate in Draper. I came early in order to be at a shower given for my other roomate who was getting married shortly.

"Along in Oct. of 1950 my parents were applying for a divorce and my Mother was to be operated on so I didn't feel that I could coninue on in school so I withdrew and started working at the telephone company as an operator.

"During the past summer the Korean War had broken and all the young men were being taken into the service so Joe and I felt very unsure as to what we should do about marriage. I continued working and Joe continued his schooling and he also worked at the telephone company.

(*Note by Karen - Mom and Dad had rented an apartment that Mom stayed in during this time and Dad would stay at his Step-mom's or overnight at the telephone company. Mom told me once that she could make Dad angrier than anyone she knew, but she knew he really loved and cared about her. One day they had had a terrible fight. They weren't speaking with one another. Several days went by with no communication. But Dad would always show up with some groceries or make sure a bill was taken care of, leaving a couple of dollars on the table when he left. His efforts to ensure that she was ok and that she had what she needed provided her a great deal of comfort and security, especially considering what was and had been happening at home with her Mom and Dad. His kindness and caring gave her the confidence to marry him.)

"Then, in June, my Mother came through Utah on her vacation. She was going to Yellowstone and Montana. Joe took his vacation and I mine and we went with her. Upon our return I quit my job and returned to California with her.

(Insert by Karen - Mom told me several times that Dad had never really experienced a "vacation" and really enjoyed this trip. He also really appreciated Grandma's cooking and "can do" spirit and joy in finding the good in life - feeling, perhaps for the first time in a long time, a sense of belonging. it was on this trip that my Grandmother realized that Mom and Dad were perhaps more serious than even they knew. She counseled them to get married.)

"About a week later Joe came to Concord, Californa and on July 9, 1951 we were married in my sister's garden at 605 Risdon Road by the bishop of my home ward, Ray Evanson.

(*Note by Karen - Evidently, according to Mom, Dad just showed up. He knew he wanted to get married and he'd traveled to California to persuade Mom. Grandma and Aunt Juanita and Uncle Ted, Uncle Vance, and the rest of the family pitched in to make it happen. They telephoned invitations to family, friends, and ward members. However, I guess they had asked someone in the ward to make the cake but forgot to ask them to the wedding - oops! In the cedar chest is Mom's wedding dress - it is beautiful but down the front of it is a seam encasing red fingernail polish. Mom had decided to touch up her nails just as she was supposed to walk down the aisle, but in doing so she dropped the bottle and spilled the polish all down the front of her dress. Aunt Juanita, ever quick thinking, just put a seam in it and none were the wiser. Uncle Vance also shared a story with me...to the best of my recollection...evidently Dad stayed in Uncle Vance's room...in his double bed. All night long Dad dreamed and slid closer and closer to Uncle Vance...and Uncle Vance spent the night trying to get away from Dad, inching closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Eventually he got up and moved to the couch - wondering what kind of pervert Dad was. LOL)

"After our marriage we returned to Provo, Utah. We lived there about a month in an apartment but then went to Pleasant Grove, Utah and lived with Joe's stepmother until he left for the army on the 18th of Oct. 1951.

(*Note by Karen - Mom related to me that Dad felt a great deal of responsibility for "F" (Grandma Pehrson) and Vere (her retarded or disabled son). By this time Les, June and Faye had all married and gone from home and Dad was all that was left. Grandma Pehrson had a daughter and her family that lived across the street as well as other children from her first marriage, but Dad still felt the weight of their care. Korea and the draft loomed ever present in their lives and rather than be drafted they decided that Dad would enlist, hoping that might give them better chances at a job in the service that would not put him on the frontlines and also knowing that it would give them a chance to establish their own family identity rather than keep Dad feeling responsible. Years later Dad would say that he wished he had not joined the Army but had joined the Air Force instead. He hated the "hurry up and wait" mentality of the Army and the senselessness of so much of what they did. One of his very favorite tv programs was "MASH" and he would laugh and watch episodes over and over again, all the while chortling about how much it was like his experiences in the Army and in Korea. Klinger, Radar, Col. Flagg, Margaret Hoolihan, Ferret-face Frank Burns and all the rest of the cast became emblematic for his experiences there.)

"Joe was sent to Ft. Ord, California. I drove down and it being about 135 miles from Concord, where my mother lived. I shuffled back and forth for about three weeks when Joe was sent to Ft. Riley, Kansas for basic training. He returned to concord on furlough for Christmas, then returned to Ft. Riley. In the meantime I got a job in the Penneys' store in Martinez, California. Joe was then sent in January of 1952 to Vint Hill Farms, Virginia. From there he was transferred to an army post by Ayer, Massachuessetts called Ft. Devens.

"In the middle of February 1952 Mother, my brother Vance, and I drove to Ayer. Here Joe and I found an apartment and mother and Vance returned to concord, California by train.

"We lived in a house in the upstairs apartment at 9 Forest Street. This was a very nice apartent for the amount we paid for it because rent was so high around army bases. The people we rented from were members of the Salvation Army and very wonderful people. They had a 15 year old daughter and the apartment was right in their home. They didn't believe in smoking and drinking and because we were Latter-Day Saints and upheld these standards we were allowed to rent the apartment. We lived here from February 1952 to March 1953.

"In August of 1952 we made a trip out to Salt Lake City and upon our return, on the 13th day of September, we received word that my brother, Gale, had been killed in Korea. His funeral was held the 30th of October 1952 and he was buried in the National Cemetery at San Bruno, California. I was unable to go home for the services as I was expecting a baby and the doctor said he did not want me to travel. Also Joe was to be shipped at any time so we didn't know when or where he would be going.

"On January 16, 1953, in the Ft. Devens hospital, our first little girl was born. We named her Wanda Karen Pehrson. She weighed 9 lb. 3.5 oz, was nearly bald and a beautiful baby.

(*Note from Karen - I was born when the hospital was experiencing a measles epidemic and the hospital was quarantined. Dad didn't get to visit Mom or I in the hospital during the week we were there - just stood outside and waved through the window. Delivery was very difficult for Mom. She lost a lot of blood. She always remembered the "drill sergeant" nurse that would throw fresh bed linens at the patients and expect them to make their beds in the morning.)

"In the middle of March Joe received orders to report to Camp Stoneman at Pittsburgh, California. Pittsburgh is 10 miles from Concord so we returned home. We stopped for a week in Salt Lake City. So at midnight on the 25th of March, after waiting several hours to see our Bishop, Bishop Westover, Joe blessed and named our baby. The next night, the 26th of March, we received our patriarchal blessings and on the following night, the 27th, we took our baby and went to the temple and received our endowments and were sealed.

"We then went home to Concord, California to my mother's home and on the 7th of April Joe reported to Camp Stoneman. On the 14th he sailed on the USS Patrick for Japan from where he was sent to Korea. While he was overseas I stayed with my mother. She purchased a home in Concord, California at 2724 Bonifacio Street.

(*Note by Karen - Dad's time in Japan and Korea would be pivotal for his growth and development and would provide the experiences that would shape his testimoney and steel his resolve to live the gospel. It was here that he actually studied the Book of Mormon and gained an unshakeable knowledge that the Church is true. Dad shared the story of being new to Japan and not knowing how to connect to the Church. One day he was at the infirmary and he saw a guy that he was pretty certain was LDS, however, he wasn't sure and he didn't want to just go up and ask so he decided to whistle "Praise to the Man". He was absolutely delighted when the guy whistled back "Come, Come Ye Saints"! It was a perfect introduction and he was able to learn where the LDS Servicemens' group met for services and attend when he could. Being away from his little family, he has said, was the loneliest time of his life and he knew that he never, ever wanted to be away from them again...and certainly not in the eternities.)

"In the early morning of July 2, 1954 I was called to my father's home at 2602 Sycamore Street by my step-mother (Mrs. Catherine Garvin Roskelley) as my father was ill. Within a couple of hours my father had passed away of a coronary thrombosis (heart attack). His funeral was held July 6, 1954 in the Martinez chapel and he was buried in the Golden Gate National Cemetery at San Bruno, California.

(*Note by Karen - Mom shared that Grandpa had literally died in her arms and his last words to her were to take care of her mother and that he loved her. Mom always wondered how that had made Catherine feel. Mom would tell you that she really thought that Grandpa had loved Grandma all along but through all their difficulties Grandma grew stronger and Grandpa seemed stuck in destructive paths. After their divorce, and through the marriage to Catherine, he had returned to activity in the Church. Grandma would tell me that "the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference or apathy." She had gotten to the point that she didn't care if Grandpa came or went, or anything else...she could invite him into her home and feel absolutely nothing. That was the the opposite of love. To Grandma's credit neither Mom or any of her siblings ever heard a negative thing about their father ever escape her lips...no snarl, no anger, not even bitterness. Mom would say that she was sure those emotions had been there at some points but Grandma had made it a point to never use those emotions against him or his childrens' relationships with their father.)

"On August 25, 1954 my husband returned from overseas. It was such a happy day for us that he was to return to us safe and sound as he had been promised in his patriarchal blessing. Joe's stepmeother, his sister and brother-in-law (Faye and Howard), and his brother and his wife, Marj, came down to see him and meet him. They arrived the night before he was to arrive. That day we arose early after a nearly sleepless night and we all got ready and went to San Francisco to the pier at Ft. Mason where he was to dock. We arrived there just as the boat was docking. When Joe came down the ramp and put his arms around me and kissed me, Karen, then 20 months old, walked up to him and hit mim and told him, "No! My Mommy!" It was some time before she felt it was all right for him to sit next to me or show me any token of affection.

"Joe was stationed once again at Ft Ord, California so I went down with him. We found an apartment in Pacific Grove through the help of "Pop Decker", a kind, elderly Latter-Day Saint there who took servicemen and their families under his arm and helped them.

"We stayed there until October 17, and after a short visit with my mother, we returned to Provo, Utah where we had an apartment waiting for us at Wymount Village on the Brigham Young University Campus. Joe enrolled in school winter quarter. He worked full time at the telephone company and a few months later he was called as ward clerk.

"We spent almost three years at B.Y.U. and they were three trying but truly happy years, for here not only did Joe receive his schooling but we also strengthened our relationship (especially after such a long, difficult separation) and grew together in our testimonies and spiritually. Joe served as a clerk under President Rex Terry, President Theo McKean, and then Bishop Russel D. Lewis.

(*Note from Karen - Mom shared that when Dad returned they had a difficult time readjusting to being together. For a while things had been pretty rocky and Mom had even wondered if the marriage could make it. One night Dad had had meetings with the branch presidency but, long after he should have been home, he finally returned. He told her that the reason for his delay was that he'd stayed to talk to the Branch President. Mom said that she didn't know what they had talked about -although she suspected it was about the difficulties they were having - but from then on things changed. It was a testimony to her that one person can indeed influence everyone around them - for good or bad - and Dad's "change" affected her and their relationship - not that Dad did all the changing - but that because he responded differently she had to change too.

My earliest memories are from this period of time - I went to nursery school while we were there and I remember a kid throwing sand in my hair and getting very upset about it. I remember Mom and Dad taking me to the library on campus to study - I loved it. I remember that is seemed that every morning Mom would fix breakfast and Dad would be holding Mike at the table. Mom would bring over the plates and inevitably Mike would sneeze all over Dad's and he just couldn't eat it after that...for some reason I remember thinking that was funny. LOL Especially because he always reacted the same way, brushing himself off and getting a kleenex or napkin to wipe Mike's nose all the while exclaiming, "Jeez!!!!" I remember riding my trike up and down the sidewalk in from of the apartment complex. One Sunday I got on my bike while Mom, Dad, and Mike were still coming out to get in the car for church. Mom and Dad had told me not to get on it because it was Sunday but I couldn't resist. I promptly lost my balance and toppled over onto the sidewalk. My chin was a bloody mess and needed stitches. (Needless to say we didn't go to church and I just knew that I had fallen because I had disobeyed Mom and Dad and had broken the Sabbath Day). Mom and Dad drove me to the hospital where they proceeded to stitch me up but they had had Mom wait in the waiting room. The nurse ran and got her though because Dad had passed out while they had been giving me the injections...he was always more squemish than Mom. I remember going to see Dad in the hospital when he had his tonsils taken out...while we were there he started to hemoragh and we had to leave...I was pretty upset about that but Mom reassured me that he would be all right. I remember the next day she, Mike, and I went downtown and Mom bought a TV set...our very, very first...and one of the very first in the entire complex. Mom had it delivered and then we went and picked up Dad at the hospital...boy! was Dad surprised! That never happened again, right???? LOL I remember visiting Grandma Pehrson, collecting eggs, picking cherries, and playing with Uncle . I remember that day the Dad graduated...President McKay presenting his diploma...and being a flower girl in Dad's stepsister's wedding that evening. Mom was so right - these were trying times - but really happy times too.)

"It was while we were here that our second baby, a boy, was born. He was born June 22, 1955 and eleven days later Joe blessed him and named him Michael Joseph Pehrson. My mother came to be with me at this time and we so enjoyed having her with us.

"In April 1957 Joe finished his school and was transferred to Salt Lake City with the Telephone Company. We hunted for a house to buy but could not find what we wanted so once again rented an apartment in a duplex at 556 Delno Drive, Salt Lake City, Utah.

"On July 20, 1957 again we were blessed with another baby boy and we named him Derk Oliver Pehrson, after Joe's father as he was born on his birthday. This boy has been a great joy to us also.

"Ten months after we came to Salt Lake my husband was called as a ward clerk to Bishop Robert Tschaggeny.

"In September of 1957 we again began to look for a house and felt we would like to buy the one next to us. We made applicatio for a loan and on February 22, 1958 we moved into our home. It was two years old, a three bedroom block home. We were so happy to have a home of our own.

"On the following July 2nd, Joe was called as Bishop of the MillCreek Second Ward and on the 5th he was sustained. I might add that this was one of the strangest weekends I have spent in my entire life. A time when we searched our very souls seriously and wondered if we were capable of handling the responsibilities. We know now that you can only half realize the magnitude of the calling. We have been so grateful for this experience. It has enriched our lives so much.

"A month after Joe was sustained as Bishop, on August 5, 1958, our third baby boy was born. We named him Brad Allen Pehrson. He was unusually long, 23 inches.

"We have really enjoyed our little family. They are quite close - but now that we have them they are our whole life. What there three boys can't think of isn't worth troubling anyone with. One thing, they sure have fun.

"Karen, at present, is 7, in two weeks she will be baptized. She is taking piano lessons and dancing lessons.

"In August of 1959 we took a 14 year old Navajo girl, named Susie Mae Yazzie, into our home under the Relief Society Indian Student Placement Program. Under this program they come and live with you at your expense for the school year, then they return to their parents for the summer on the reservation. Susie came back to us this year again.

"This life story is part of the requirement for graduation from a genealogy class under Sister Blanche Belcher. I feel it isn't complete with all the things I would like in it, however, it is a start.

Thanks, Des, for changing my blog!  I was going to try it myself but - well - we all know how tech challenged I am!  LOL  You did a wonderful job! And I am really grateful!

I've been working on the Mother's Day songs for so long, studying lyrics and trying to remember them (can't get this brain to do that for some reason), seeking ways to teach and help the children remember them, and each time I go over one of these songs the spirit teaches me.  The power in these simple words and tunes is overwhelming to me.

Last Sunday I printed a "Mother" on a sheet of paper, mounted it on a half sheet of poster board, laminated it and poked holes through the irises of her eyes.  When I was trying to help the children I told them that often mothers cry because we are so happy and we love to hear our children sing to us.  I urged them to sing so well "the mother" cried.  I had a sister help me by spraying a stream of water or mist through the holes.  The kids got a real tickle out of it.  I would say it was a success.

As I have thought about these things I am so humbled by my opportunity to be a mom - especially to my children.  When Rich and I married we both wanted to start our family right away but that didn't happen.  Months came and went without signs of pregnancy...and each time I felt sad, discouraged, and empty.  I remember getting to the point that I believed we'd never have children and deciding that if we weren't going to have any then the most important thing I could do was to focus on the blessings I did have and to cherish Rich's and my relationship.

Obviously children did come to us and always I felt as if the views of heaven and the eternities had just been opened to us.  Each is perfect...and now my children have grown to include more children and so many wonderful grandchildren.  I wonder how it is that I have been so blessed.  I know that is probably not the best way to look at it as I know many wonderful couples who would love to have children, who ache for them as I once did, and yet their lives have not been blessed by them.  But I cannot see or think or hear from any one of "mine" and not feel like I am in heaven...for whatever the reason of their call or visit or thought.  I have no words to express my love and joy.  I wish I did and when you consider that I don't have words - well, that is something all on its' own, right?

The chorus from "The Family Is Of God" goes:
                 God gave us families
                 To help us become what He wants us to be.
                 This is how He shares His love,
                  For the family is of God.

Simple yet profound words.  I think of how much I have learned and grown, at the expense of those I love so dearly.  I thank them for allowing me to learn and for forgiving me of all the pain and frustration I have inflicted on them over the years.  It is truly in the loving arms of my husband and children that I am where I am now and I am so grateful for their patience, support, kindness, love, and teachings - I am so grateful to be their Mom and pray with all the fervency of my heart that we will be able to spend eternity together.

I remember sitting at the table for dinner one night many years ago and one of the kids was gone to a friend's home.  The "hole" was immense.  I have thought about that over and over and over through the years.  I would have never known what I was missing unless I had been willing to have it in the first place.  In a day when we were urged by the popular culture to not have children, to pursue our own goals, and if we were going to have kids then just have one or two, I am so glad I could hear the words of the prophets and the stirrings in my own heart.  I am so glad and grateful that Rich was always there, beaming from ear to ear, at the news of a pregnancy or the birth of a new little one, or the frustrations and worries, or the joys...always there to cherish the moments with me...to share our lives together. 

I wish I had been the perfect Mom.  I wish there were some things I could do over.  I tried to do the best I could and sometimes I didn't try hard enough.  But I would never, ever undo, redo, or change my kids.  They truly are my greatest joys.  I love you Wanda, Joey, Philip, Desiree, Cherstin, Felicia, and with no less joy or distinction - Robert, Carlie, Hannah, Mike, and Dan.  Thank you so much for being the people you are.  I'm so proud of you and the great work you are doing.  I am so grateful to be your Mom.  I love you with all my heart.  Truly you are how God shares His love and I am so humbled and gratified to have you in my life - my joy is full.

I am loving and stretching and stewing and fretting in my calling as Primary Chorister.  It has been a long time since I have had to work at something like this...that's a good thing.

I have taught the kids "I Am A Strippling Warrior" and "I Love To Go To Grandma's House" for the Mother's Day Program in Sacrament Meeting and I am so excited to hear how they do - and worried at the same time.  I know that neither song will be that familiar to the congregation so I hope they will enunciate clearly.

In the meantime - every day seems to be taken up with preparation and effort for me to learn the songs I will be teaching on Sunday.  This week I am teaching "The Family Is Of God" - such a beautiful song and so filled with the spirit - and "I'm So Glad When Grandpa Comes" for the Father's Day Program and "When I Am Baptized," as well as reviewing "Gethsemane".  I searched for ribbon wands yesterday and guess I'll be ordering them online - can find them for $.70 (I could make them but I would spend much more than than and I have lots of other things to do) for the "rainbow" actions.  Rich said he'd help me make rain tubes but I need to get the pvc pipe and get them made before all our company arrives...Marsha and Blair are coming in for the weekend and Joey and Carlie and the kids may be coming too.  Now if there were just some way my mind could remember the lyrics to these songs!!!!  LOL

Musings from Mosiah

Today, in my scripture study, I read Mosiah 5.  I just love Mosiah.  I remember the first time I ever read it - the power, understanding, faith, and love I feel for my Savior seemed to grow miraculously.  It is easy for me to understand why the people said that they believed all the words that he (King Benjamin)had spoken to them and they knew of their "surety and truth" because the Spirit is so strong in those words and I become "changed" every time I read them and have "no more disposition to do evil continually, but to do good continually" too.  I had to smile to myself this morning when I realized that I always feel this way but then having the resolve and ability to actually be this kind of individual seems to struggle when I have to put it all into practice.  King Benjamin certainly knew that when he gave his counsel in the previous chapter to "watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God."

However, in Mosiah 5 much is about me becoming a daughter of Christ and being called by His name.  I sense there is such deeper meaning to these words than I understand...but some pondering gave me some additional insight...perhaps not new to anyone else...but certainly new to me.  In verse 7, "because of the covenant which ye have made ye shall be called the children of Christ, his sons and his daughters" - obviously the baptismal covenant provides us that transformative power - and because of the covenant we become members of his Kingdom, and able to stand on the right hand of God. 

It is verse 12 that caused me to consider - "...remember to retain the name written always in your hearts, that ye are not found on the left hand of God, but that ye hear and know the voice by which ye shall be called, and also, the name by which he shall call you."  Obviously, once we have been baptized and received the companionship of the Holy Ghost it behooves us to learn to hear and know THAT voice if we are to utilize that power to help us return to our Heavenly Father.  What I didn't anticipate was the thought that the partaking of the sacrament each Sunday renews that covenant but the specific wording in that prayer is about our being "willing to take upon" ourselves His name...it is my willingness to enter into His temple...His life...exaltation...and it by His name that He will call me and I need to hear and know the voice by which I will be called.  If I cannot or do not hear and know that voice in my every day walk how will I ever hear and know that voice to enter into His glory and presence?  Do I think that it will be any quieter, easier, less confusing or chaotic then?  I would be no different than the five foolish virgins who thought they had all the time in the world - or perhaps they thought they wouldn't have to wait so long so they had plenty and over time they just didn't listen to that voice above the commotion of the impending feast - didn't hear or recognize and act upon those precious instructions that come but go just as fleetingly to those who will not hear or do not know. What could be more important than to be able to hear and recognize His voice?  This was a "tender mercy" today - a glimmer of the eternities and a musing that helps me see, just for a moment, the eternal round of the gospel. 

A little over a month ago I was released as a Relief Society teacher (I will really miss that calling - so fun and I learned so MUCH!) and called as the Primary Chorister.  I had this calling a LONG, LONG, LONG time ago for a very short time, so it isn't exactly new...but it has been long enough that I don't know the songs that the kids have learned.  To top it off, the previous chorister has been out since about October of last year and they have just been having substitutes so there isn't anyone to really go to in order to learn about what the kids have been doing as there has been so little consistency or continuity.  However, I am loving this calling too.  It is on my mind all the time and I find myself reflecting on the simple truths of the gospel and the love of Heavenly Father and the Savior and the importance of family, etc. all day long.  I am finding that I have no brain though!  LOL  Remembering words to new songs, coming up with ideas for teaching and practicing, even just selecting what we're singing seems to be "over my pay grade!"  Oh well, hopefully it will get better and better as I exercise these portions of my brain that haven't had to learn this way in quite a time.  I am grateful that I have Cherstin, Desi, Wanda, Hannah, and Carlie so I can "pick" their brains and for modern technology as there are a gazillion blogs and yahoo groups to help me along.

Yesterday I spent the day trying to figure out how I might do something that the kids would love, it would involve them and get them moving, but allow for lots of repetition.  I taught a song for Easter, "Gethsemane" by Melanie Hoffman, that ALL the kids loved and so many parents have told me that their children sing it often throughout the week...but I only got one verse taught until last week when I taught the other two...so we need to do some reviewing of it.  And the children are supposed to sing in Sacrament Meeting for Mother's Day and Father's Day so I spent quite a bit of time trying to find something that was different than the usual songs.  I settled on "I Am A Strippling Warrior" and "I Love to Go to Grandma's House" for Mother's Day.  Grandma's House was easy - an old song that tells a story and has easy actions to remember the song - the kids learned it with just a couple of run throughs...but  Strippling Warrior has been another matter.  I taught the chorus last week but even then I didn't feel like it was solidly "there"...close but not solid.  I still need to teach the 3 verses and so I need to come up with some ways to remember the words.  I thought about flip charts - will still probably have to make them as I think the kids will need them for Sacrament Meeting for prompts - but I was trying to think of other things all night long - it seemed that I dreamt about it ALL NIGHT LONG!  LOL  Somewhere in my dreaming I saw the kids with orangish-yellow head bands like the picture of the strippling warriors...and I was trying to figure out how to make them.  When I woke I thought it would be really easy to just make strips of fabric to tie around their heads and I could use fabric glitter to write "brave," "strong," and "true" on them as they are the words to describe the warriors.  Then I thought I need to make a few childrens' sized aprons to represent "mothers" and a shield with "faith" written on it and a sword with "truth and hope" on it, and learn some sign language and make some signs that the kids will recognize for key words and...I think this will work!  Yeah!!!

I was thinking I would create an "Angry Birds" game...but I think I have about decided to do it next week to review.  I have some boxes I'll cover with brown wrapping paper for the bricks, already bought some pink foam sheets to make the pigs, have a strength band to make the sling shot, and just need to buy a few "angry birds" to finish the game...but I know the kids will get into the game and I need them to learn the words so I'll teach the song this week and use the game next week to create the repetition to solidify it in their brains - and hopefully mine!  LOL

Then - I need to figure out a way to keep cool while I'm teaching - at least not sweating buckets.  Maybe a clip-on fan for my music stand?  Anti-perspirant under my make up???  Something has to give!  LOL 

Sounds like I need to get off here and get busy, huh?  Have a great day and sing a song for me!

I'm so grateful for modern technology - even though I am one of the least skilled at it.  I've been thinking about the inventiveness, the ingenuity, stick-to-it-ivness, determination of the men and women who have brought these wonderful advances about and the spirit of the Lord that brooded over them so that His purposes could be wrought.  Today I had the opportunity to talk to and play with each of my children and even some of my grandchildren....  What a blesssing.  I'm old enough to remember that the only way we used to have to communicate was through very expensive long distance and snail mail...yet today I talk, facetime, and play games with them and I seldom really face the reality of the thousands of miles in separation.

Today Cherstin called to talk about her worry and frustration with Ellie.  At two, she is very, very, very busy and often into things that could prove disasterous for her and others.  By noon Cherstin was facetiming me with evidence of her concern - Ellie had put her hand on the burner of the stove and her little fingers were blistered.  A trip to the dr, some silverdene creme and lots of gauze to keep it clean, with a follow-up appointment in a week were prescribed and she is doing better tonight.

In the meantime - Emily has learned to play "Draw Something" on her iPod and she and I have been playing.  It has been so much fun to watch her draw, reason, and spell.  I also play games with Rebekah, Rachel, Mary, Ben and Sam...I just love having these connections!  I wish I had these connections with each of them - in due time I guess.

Wanda and I had a chance to talk today as well - about Nauvoo and ways to involve temple aged kids in preparing names for the temple.  I've been so impressed by Elder Bednar's talk about this subject from October's Conference that this seems like a particularly wonderful opportunity to involve the kids in the work...but I haven't yet figured out how.  Wanda suggested I email each of them and give everyone assignments and homework...I think I will but I'm just trying to figure out how and what to involve them with....  It is just a little over 90 days until we'll be there so I better make some decisions quickly!

Tomorrow is my last synvisc injection.  These have been particularly difficult.  Perhaps I am getting to the point that I will just need to have the surgeries...so much for hoping to not have to have them!  Hopefully tomorrow's will be better than the last two which have left me immobile for 5-6 days afterwards.  I have been swimming the last two evenings and that seems to have helped a little - at least it seems to have loosened the joint up.  But - I will be honest - I'm dreading tomorrow.

When I was a young child General Conference was a three day affair...in all probability it was more likely a whole week with the broadcasts only on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.  I vaguely remember my mother having meetings for the various auxiliaries that she had callings in during the week - they were held in the Church Offices and R.S. buildings and put on by the General Church leadership.  I remember coming home from school on Friday and Mom would be so excited to share a talk that had been important to her...or I was hushed so she could finish listening to the talk.  LOL

Somewhere, sometime it was changed to the two days of sessions that we currently enjoy and now I always think back about how glad I was to have conference over then as I feel sad for how quickly it will be over now.  And, today Rich and I made preparations to enjoy this weekend to the fullest.

Rich invited a good friend, Emily Sammons, and her husband to watch conference with us here at home.  They have usually gone to the Church and we were a little bit reluctant to invite because we know they have family in the area and didn't want to intrude on family time.  However, Rich extended the invitation today and they accepted.  I have been wondering what kinds of food we ought to have because it seems like we ought to have the old standbys - but being on Eastern Daylight Time - maybe not...and all the plans I had for tomorrow have died as tonight Julio, Rich's counselor, was supposed to have his guys over to our home for a cooking group (they were supposed to learn how to make burritos) but not one showed up.  I had cooked a tri-tip all afternoon so that they could have shredded beef burritos, but since that didn't get used it needs to be eaten...so I think that's what we'll have for lunch tomorrow - or between sessions more specifically.

This afternoon Rich and I went to Sam's to get a few extra items for the Priesthood Session.  He is bringing cookies, pie, and ice cream for their little social prior to the session.  We had picked up the bulk of items yesterday at Costco when we were in Chatanooga but we knew we'd want a few things (i.e. peanut butter cookies and double chocolate chocolate chip cookies and the ice cream) from Sam's.  While we were there he found a small TV for the office and a blue-ray player for the family room - both were a very good deal.  I'm hopeful that once we get the office set up we will find ourselves "anxiously engaged" in genealogy and getting through the boxes and boxes of things I have brought home from Mom and Dads'.  I think the TV will help that happen - go figure!  LOL

Today I had a chance to talk to Dad.  I had spent quite some time talking to Mike last night and knew that he was feeling very anxious and worried about Dad and wondering if we'd made the right decision.  As I talked to Dad I was sensitive to those feelings and wondered how I would feel and what my impressions would be.  To be honest - I hearken back to the family conference call on Wednesday morning and I cannot deny the sweetness of Shauna's prayer and the powerful impressions that we were being attended to by heavenly hosts.  It is unusual for us to have unanimity in anything and yet we were one.  All of that was turned upside down when Dad seemed to be coming out of the fog and haze he had been in...but as I listened intently to Dad today I knew the decisions we had made were the right ones and that the time frame may be a little different but the outcome would still be the same...Dad is slipping away and will soon be returning to our Heavenly Home to be with Mom, his parents, Tony, and our Savior and Heavenly Father.  We will miss him...but in reality...it will be a joyous thing.  He said, as late as last Sunday, that he felt like he was in jail and he didn't think he could "do this" any longer...I don't think he'll have to and I am grateful for that.

My knees are very, very stiff and painful still.  This round of synvisc seems to be like the round two times ago.  It was many weeks before I was able to get around.  I'm wondering how I will survive another set of injections on Wednesday but I know that I need to have them or I will never have the relief I so desparately seek.  Right now I am living on hydrocodone and voltaren gel and wondering how many more times I can go through this before I actually have to have the replacements...not too many I think.   I'm sure glad I didn't have the 3 in 1 shot!

Well - it is nearly 11 p.m. so I am hitting the hay - I want to get up early and see if I can get some weeding done before conference...I may not if my legs aren't any better...but I can hope!

Time

This morning, as I sit at my desk to write this, I have such a mixture of emotions and memories.  Time seems to stand still and yet seems to be whirling in rushing eddies down Mill Creek Canyon, all at the same time.  Today, more than many days, I realize that things will soon change and I wish I had done a better job at preserving memories in my daily blog or journal entries.  I remember thinking I will never forget this...but now I wonder what I actually have forgotten and will never recall...at least in this life.  I'm wondering why the prophets and the Lord's counsel to keep a journal has been so casually kept...starting and stopping hundreds of time throughout my life.  Did I not deem it important?  I guess that's not true or I wouldn't have started so many times.  Was it lack of will power...very likely I suppose...exhaustion and lack of habit combined with good intentions but no action have led me here.

How I wish I could go back and read the doings of this day throughout my life - March 30th - what would I find?  How many little acts of kindness have I not recorded or cannot be grateful for because I don't remember them?  How many funny things did my children say that are long forgotten?  What frustrations, irritations, and difficulties did I face and overcome that made me what I am today?  How many poignant moments with loved ones will never be captured except in the sinews and tissues of my body and mind as a collective record?  As with all repentance - I can change - but I will never be able to recapture those precious days...days with my Mom and Dad, brothers and sister-in-laws, my wonderful eternal companion, my precious children and their spouses and my adorable grandchildren, or even neighbors, friends, and acquaintances.

Today I sit here and contemplate my Dad's life and my experiences with him...knowing that there are not many more days to spend with him.  I am torn between genuine health issues here and thousands of miles of travel to get to him.  I'm worried to leave Rich...I know it is crazy and that he'll be okay...but the worry engulfs my heart and brings me to tears.  More than ever I realize that our days are numbered as well...but Dad's are soon to be gone entirely.  What if I wait too long?   Have I already waited too long?  Time...always ticking, always moving, never standing still.   

Cataracts

This is really my first attempt at writing since my cataract surgery on the 18th of this month - a week ago tomorrow.  My vision is still difficult, not because of the lens but because of the disparity between the vision in both eyes, although the new lens, cornea, and pressure in my left eye are still healing and not as clear as it will become over the next few weeks.  However, I have a sense that the further I go in time from this event the harder it will be to recall the particulars, or at the very least, the less miraculous it will become, and I don't want that to happen.  So it is my endeavor at this moment to detail these events here.

I was first diagnosed with cataracts back in 2000.  In 2001, on our way to Kentucky, an optomotrist that I saw in Denver noted that they were pretty significant then but they weren't "ripe" yet.  The years passed and every eye exam noted that they were still present.  LOL 

In November 2010 I was playing for the choir in our ward and was noticing that I was having great difficulty in seeing the music.  At first I thought it was just lighting problems at the piano but even at home I was having difficulty.  These problems were acuity related and had come rather suddenly.  I wondered if it was just "hormonal" changes and adopted a wait and see attitude.  By April I knew I could no longer put it off and made an appointment with an optomotrist at the Eye Care Center here in Oak Ridge.  Upon examination he was astounded that my prescription had changed so dramatically - for the better!  He was at a loss to explain the sudden shift but urged me to see my primary care physician because the most likely reason was blood sugar disturbances.  I saw Dr. May and she ran the requisite tests and determined that my blood sugar was just fine.  I reported back to Dr. Kunemen and he monitored my vision over the next few months but things had seemed to stabilize and I was once again "seeing" with new glasses.

In November 2011 we gathered in Wisconsin for a family reunion at the Dells and spent Thanksgiving together as a family.  It was a wonderful time that I will always cherish.  As that week came to an end I drove Rich to the airport in Milwaukee so that he could fly home to Tennessee and I made preparations to travel to Utah so that I could spend Christmas with my Dad and Felicia.  Rich would join me later in the month.  Desi and Mike left a couple of days earlier than I did...in hind sight I probably should have followed them.  When I got into Omaha it was dusk and suddenly the glare of the lights and the darkness of the night left me unable to see signs, distances, and the road.  I called Rich in a panic as physically I had been prepared to drive for several more hours but my vision left me terrified - I couldn't see where I was going!  He, of course, counseled me to find a hotel and continue on in the daylight and that is what I did.

In December he flew in to Salt Lake and I went to pick him up.  It was nearly midnight when his flight arrived.  When he got into the car and I pulled away from the curb and moved into the traffic he became agitated because I was going slowly.  I hadn't realized that was the case...but I was compensating for my lack of vision.  He commanded me to stop and he took over the driving!  LOL

Over the course of 2011 I continued to notice a decline in my vision.  What had once been only a problem in darkness was fast becoming a problem in daylight.  In November (I'm beginning to see a pattern with the Novembers! LOL) I was playing for Sacrament Meeting and, not having a knowledge of what the hymns were beforehand, I looked up at the Hymn Board and turned to the opening hymn and started playing the introduction.  I had barely finished it when the chorister, Mara Petersen, walked over to me and told me that wasn't the correct hymn and gave me the right one.  All through that hymn I realized that I was in trouble...I was having difficulty with seeing the music and I had definitely not seen the correct numbers on the board!  During Sunday School that very day I tracked down Brother Tommy Dahl, an opthamologist in our ward, and asked him questions about cataract surgery and if he was seeing new patients.  He assured me that he would be able to see me and that I would be able to exercise the day after the surgery, except for water aerobics and weight training...that would be a week to 10 days out.  Sister Loosli, in our ward, works at the Eye Center, told me that she would look on Brother Dahl's schedule and see if she could get me in as soon as possible.  A week later I had my first appointment. 

At the appointment my eyes were dilated and history was taken.  As the exam continued Tommy told us that he had suspected that I would have some problems but he was surprised at how bad things really were.  The cataracts were very dense, especially in my left eye.  Compounding the cataracts were the degrees to which my vision was impaired by both far and near-sightedness.  Rich joked that he would just get me a white cane and a tin cup, to which I responded that my vision wasn't that bad and that plenty of other people had worse, to which Tommy responded, "Not in this country!"  Lol  He told me that I was "Big Letter E" blind and not legal to drive.  I was amazed...even astounded.  I had known I was having difficulty but I wasn't prepared to hear that news.  It explained a whole lot about what I was experiencing.  We left his office knowing that finding a surgical date with the holidays fast approaching would be difficult.  I was also reluctant to have it during the holidays because Cherstin and Dan and Joey and Carlie were going to be joining us. 

As it turned out the pre-op exam was scheduled for the 14th of January with surgery to be done on the 18th.  It seemed like a long time away but very close at the same time.  As I prepared for the holidays I found myself more and more frustrated at little things.  Shopping was difficult...lights, the "fog" or "haze" of the cataracts, and general lack of acuity were tiring and I found that I had a feeling of being somewhat disconnected.  More and more I felt unsafe and uncertain about driving, cooking, sewing, reading, or even participating in the games and puzzles that the kids were playing.  I really think I was beginning to understand how Grandma Bainbridge felt, in small measure, as the disconnectedness was disconcerting to say the least.  It is hard to enjoy the moment when you cannot see the moment well.

As the holidays ended and the pre-op exam approached I found myself wondering what I was going to discover once the surgery was done.  Was I going to find that I was even more morbidly obese than I thought?  Would I discover that the makeup that I had been applying all these years was garish and clown-like?  Was my house clean?  Would I discover that the quilts that I had loved making were ugly and my kids wondering what I had been thinking?  What had I been missing and who had I not been seeing?  What if the mistakes I made at the piano keyboard were not vision related but because I just couldn't play well?  What if the problems I was having weren't the cataracts afterall?

At my pre-op appointment measurements were taken of my eye to determine which type of lens might be most advantageous.  I learned that even though I have an astigmatism it isn't very bad...negligible really...and if they were to put in the toric lens that corrects for it, the astigmatism would actually be much worse.  That was pretty good news.  The difficulty that I have with both near and far-sightedness left me with two options - the basic lens that my insurance would pay for but would only correct for near-sightedness - I would need to have glasses for reading and close work.  Or, a lens that was $2200 that would correct for both near and far-sightedness - and I would need TWO of those lenses!  As I weighed those options, Dr. Dahl shared the fact that people who are basically farsighted adjust pretty well to the basic lens because they are used to having to use reading glasses.  That made perfect sense to me.  However, I have worn glasses or contact lenses for 50 years and it has only been the last 10 years that I have needed to have correction for the farsightedness.  In 50 years I have never misplaced my glasses, never lost them...in fact...they are the last thing I take off and the first thing I put on each day...and if truth be told...much of the time it is Rich that takes them off or I find that I have been sleeping with them on.  And, as the problems have advanced I have gotten in the habit of putting them on my head when I have needed to read or do handwork.  Suddenly I realized that I would probably be looking for glasses a lot...how many pairs would it take to equal $2200...$4400?  Over the rest of my life?  I decided to go with the more expensive lens.  I hope that was a good choice!  LOL

My initial exam had shown that I had an increase in interocular pressure, especially in my left eye.  Dr. Dahl had run a scan to determine what it was doing, if anything, to the macula.  It was causing some degree of "flattening" and left untreated would become a problem.  However, he believed that the pressure might be a result of the density of the cataract and that once it was removed, over time, the pressure would return to normal.  He reiterated that in the pre-op appointment and told me that they would be monitoring it over a period of time.  And, the upper respiratory and sinus infection that I had been dealing with since the first of December would not necessarily delay surgery unless I developed a temperature or my mucus changed to green or other colors that indicated infection.  I was elated with that news!  Everything was a go!

The day of surgery Rich gave me a blessing.  I was truly comforted by it.  Even though I really believed that everything would be okay there is such comfort in having those feelings confirmed by the power of the Holy Ghost.  I prayed for Brother Dahl...I knew from our conversations that he would feel some degree of pressure because of our association.  I didn't want him to feel uncertain, worried, anxious, or hesitant in any way.  I knew there were risks that everything might not go as foreseen but those were my risks to take...not his.

I had been expecting that my surgery would go like my Mom's had gone.  By the post-op the next day she was seeing 20/20.  Dr. Dahl had warned me that probably wouldn't be the case for me, that it would take longer as Mom had just been far-sighted.  Even though he had warned me I still thought otherwise!  LOL  He had also told me that I would probably not find my glasses any help in my post operative state, even with the left lens removed.  He was pretty certain that the visual distortion would be severe enough that I would find it preferable to go without glasses. 

As they wheeled me into surgery I was feeling pretty calm.  I certainly felt like I was in good hands.  I didn't anticipate any real difficulty.  Dr. Dahl had warned me that even though they had taken measurements, the fact was that once they got into the eye the cataract could be much deeper, bigger, and denser than the measurements had shown, and that meant that they would have to "dig" a little deeper to get it out.  And that was indeed what happened.  Even though my eye was open the entire time - I so wish I could have seen it - I didn't.  My right eye was draped so that eye couldn't help and all my left eye registered was a very bright light and and very pink center in that light...I would assume that was blood but I don't really know and didn't think to ask.  The surgery is relatively quick - just a 15+ minute procedure really - from start to finish.  At the end of it I realized I could see little holes in the ceiling tiles...I hadn't noticed them before.

Within a half hour or so I was ready to come home.  Rich was there with me to get the post-op instructions and we left.  It felt good to be home...comforting.  I settled onto the couch with my eye shield and drops that had to be put in every two hours and promptly went to sleep.  I dozed off and on all day and slept well that night.  I think I had been more anxious than I wanted to admit because the sleep that night was really restful - unlike the night before.  LOL

The next day we went back for the post-op exam.  Everything looked good as far as placement of the lens, etc.  However, my visual acuity was not good...it wasn't what I had been expecting.  The interocular pressure had risen 10 points and Dr. Dahl prescribed another drop to be added to the regimen to deal with that.  The cornea was cloudy and swelling was leaving me unable to see well.  That has gradually improved as the days have gone on.  I have a follow-up appointment this coming Friday, the 27th and I hope to be able to resume all normal activity and have a date for the other eye.  Until the other eye is done though I will probably continue to experience a degree of nausea now and then and the frequent feeling that I am walking on shifting sand - both are a result of the visual disparity between my two eyes.

After we left the Eye Center we drove to Wal Mart for Rich to get something.  I would have stayed in the car but I had been wanting to go to a paint store ever since I had the surgery the day before.  Mom had been amazed at how vibrant the colors were after her surgery.  However, what I noticed was how white everything was.  The white was so white that it seemed to glow.  I felt like I could understand Joseph Smith's description of his experience with Moroni - "he had on a loose robe of most exquisite whiteness.  It was whiteness beyond anything earthly...exceedingly white and brilliant."  I wanted to find paint chips that would demonstrate what I was experiencing.  The only problem was that when I got into the paint section I soon learned that it wasn't the "white" that I was experiencing - it was the "light".  Everything in my right eye is darker...yellower...browner...darker.  The whites are not white - they are more beige - and the other colors are deeper - less light.  I cannot find words to describe the light that my left eye sees...it just is...and it is wonderful!  And more importantly I cannot help but recognize the importance of light...something that I thought I understood but didn't.  I thought I had been walking in light...but I wasn't.  Suddenly I want to understand the eye, how it works, the structures, the lenses, the brain...I would love to just call Brother Dahl and have him give me a crash course in opthamology.  LOL  And, just as suddenly I want to understand light, its' properties, refraction, color, wave, how it works.  And, since I have been unable to read, I have been left to ponder for the last week about the significance of what has happened and liken it to the scriptures and to myself.  Suddenly I want to read all the scriptures and study the words of the prophets to learn about the eye and light...and especially about the Light of the World.  Suddenly I "see" and understand more about the significance of "eyes that see" and the "flood of light" that changed the world.  I "see" so many applications on both a macro and micro level that I am afraid that I might miss something.  And, I worry that the further I get from this experience I will take for granted this very special and miraculous gift and my "eyes" will become darkened again with spiritual cataracts.  And I really worry that we, in America, have become "blinded" by our own sophistry and hedonism.  I suspect that as I search and ponder more this will be a subject of great "insight" to me...at least I hope so.

Happy Birthday! and Technology

The years just seem to keep rolling by - and I guess that's a pretty good thing considering the alternative!  LOL  January is always a time of New Beginnings and this January is no exception...except...that I closed 2011 and opened 2012 as sick as I have been in a very long time.  I am beginning to feel better but that is after weeks of not, two courses of antibiotics, and coughing up my lungs every few minutes!  I told Rich, "Could you imagine what I would look like if I didn't know how to 'sniff' or 'blow'?"  I have been nothing short of a fountain of green, brown, yellow, and bloody gunk!  Ugh!!!  I seriously worried that my cataract surgery would be delayed if I couldn't get over this but my appointment last week dispelled that worry and surgery is a go for Wednesday!  Hallelujah!!!!

Back in December I received the following post on FaceBook from my cousin, Gayle May Roskelley Brown.
     "Funny thing happened yesterday!  I was looking for photos that were posted already on the Internet; of my ancestors.  I tried to find one of grandma; but an interesting blog came up instead about somebody's grandma, so I started to read.  Then it hit me...Who is writing about MY grandma Roskelley? ha ha ha Couldn't figure out who you were until I was near the end.  Wonderful tribute.  You shared info I didn't know.  You've got to share more with me, OK? Gayle"

Then, on January 8, 2012 I received another post from Gayle:
     "Dear Karen,
     "My father NEVER talked about his growing-up days, or anything about family.  He HATED genealogy, and was ashamed of polygamy.
      "I know Grandma loved her grandmother, Julia Elnora, and once told me she had a great sense of humor.  Do you know anything about her?
      "What was Grandm's mother like? (Julia Abigail Smith)
      "What did Julia die of?
      "Were the other men she married Mormon?
      "Why didn't Julia keep and raise Grandma herself?
      "How did Grandma and Grandpa meet each other?
      "When did Granpa start drinking?  Why?
      "What was the date of their first divorce?
      "Why did it happen?
      "How did they get back together?
      "What was the date, and where did they get married the 2nd time?
      "And the date of the 2nd divorce?
      "Grandma is still sealed to him isn't she?
      "Can you tell me anything about Grandpa's other wife?
      "Did you know that somebody has sealed her to grandpa too?
      "Can you write a comprehensive history on Grandma for all of us?  :o) LOL
      "Write to me on my email. gbrown538@aol.com  Thanks"

Well - a couple of months ago I started to go through some of the things that I had collected and brought home from Mom and Dad's.  I had copied the autobiographies I found of Grandma and then texted them to family.  My hope was that someone would read them and find important information and get to know her better.  To my surprise they were well received.  I had been under the impression that everyone in the extended family had them - but it appears that is not the case.  So, I have copied them here and will refer interested parties here to get them.  I fully intend to answer all of Gayle's questions but not right now - I had cataract surgery on Wednesday and my vision is really not very good at the moment.  By next week it should be much improved and maybe I'll attempt it then.  In the meantime I hope you enjoy what I do have, Gayle.

Autobiography of Wanda Bingham Roskelley

I've got to the end of my days, till I can hardly tell who I am. I was born, Wanda Bingham, that was the name they gave me, no middle name. My Mother was the second girl, Julia Abigale Smith, of my Grandmother Julia Elnora Smith Merrill. Mother had quite a bit to contend with, with her older brother, and the two gave my Grandmother a really hard time. Mother was headstrong, I guess because she had been tormented by her brother older than she was, each one tried to get the best of the other one.

Mother started going out with Parley Pratt Bingham, Jr., and they decided they wanted to get maried. She was only 15 and I think Dad must have been 17 or something of that sort. My Mother's Mother and my Father's Father got together and talked the situation over and to see if they could disuade these two head strong kids, that they should wait a while and not get married. But to no avail. They were determined they were going to get married. So Grandfather and Grandmother finally decided that it would be best to let them get married, or they may have a situation on their hands that would be worse to deal with. They were married on 4 Jan 1899 in the Logan Temple.

They lived on the Ranch until after I was born, because I was told that my Father was working on the Ranch and my Mother took me out to see what he was doing. He wanted to have a little help from her, so she laid me down on a pile of straw and there was an old sow feeding her babies there. When they came back to get me, I was one right along with babies, as I was nursing the sow - well I don't know if it lasted very long before they found me - so I always felt that I had a little bit of pig in me.

Mother was 16 when I was born. She was too young a mother really. I don't know how long they had been married when they moved to Ogden to live. I was awfully young to remember anything about the house, but I think I do remember something. There was an outside stairway which my mother verfied before she died, when I talked to her about it, that led up to the kitchern. I can remember the door that went out there and Mother trying to keep the screen door closed so that I wouldn't go out and fall down the stairs. That was the only thing I remember about Ogden. My Mother about this time, divorced my Father and she took me back to Smithfield, Ut to her Mother.

Apparently she had communication with her eldest sister, Elnora, who lived in the Teton Basin in Idaho. Elnora had lost two babies prematurely, so she had no children of her own. She waid that she would take me and be happy to take care of me while my Mother found work. I lived with her for two and one-half years and my Aunt was the same as my Mother to me. She did for me all the things that my Mother did for me. My Mother went away from home to work and worked at various places in Idaho and Montana where she met a man seventeen years her senior.

I was visiting in Smithfield, Utah with my Grandmother and next to her house was a stone wall. The stone was put up and kind of plastered over a little bit, but the plaster wasn't very good and it didn't last and the stones were knocked out clear through, making quite a space, as big as the piano there. Grandmother's house was close to the wall, so I crawled through the hole and into the Roskelley property of Aunt Mary Jane. Behind her house and a little to the south of it was a little log cabin, the door was open. I went to sit on the step as I had been picking flowers and here was the biggest pile of asparagas. It had been cut and layed on the step and I thought, "how nice, I'll take this home to Grandma, she likes asparagas." It never ented my head that I was taking something that belonged to someone else. I thought that someone had just left it there for me. I never thought of stealing it, or anything of that sort. I took it over to Grandma and she said, "oh you shouldn't have brought that here, that belongs to somebody else, where did you get it?" I said, "that house over there, through the stone wall." "The log cabin?" she asked "Oh!' Aong about this time came Aunt Maggie and she said, "I just caught a glimpse of this little girl going through the stone wall with my asparagas." Grandma said, "Is this your? She thought somebody had just left it there, that no body wanted it so she brought it home to me." "You will have to tell her you're sorry." she told me. So I told her I was and thought that someone had left it for me or forgotten it. We never had any problem with Aunt Maggie, she was just as sweet and nice as Aunt Mary Jane was contankerous. They are all dead and gone and if she heard me say that she would say, well, so that's how you felt about me.

Mother came down to Utah to get me before the marriage and took me home with her on the train. They were married that late afternoon when she and I arrived on the train. I stood up along side of Dad Hendricks. I held his right hand and Mother was on his left. He was a cripple, as were two of his brothers. They had a disease at the time, which had kept them in bed for a long time, they called it hip disease, each one of them had trouble with their one leg which seemed to shrivle up and not grow any more. My father was the worse of the three and he wore a built up shoe. If he was standing up without his shoe his leg would be about half that of his right leg, so he had this shoe built up about that high. He was never able to participate in dances or anything of that sort, but he would take Mother and me to the dances, because she liked to dance and we would sit and watch.

There was one young fellow there, that worked for the grocery store delivering groceries. He was a tall, lanky guy and we called him "Link." I don't remember what his last name was. He would come up and ask me to dance. Here I was only about six years old and I thought I was about the biggest one on the floor. They had Supper Dances and he would come get me and would say, "Now, I'm your date for the supper. I'll take you to supper." We would go up to a restaurant and have something like oyster soup with crackers.

Over the hill from Kendle, Montana was a place they called "Slab Town." I think the poorer families lived there. Their homes were not as nice as the ones on our street, or on our side of the mountain. When he would go there and happened to see me he would say, "I'm going to deliver groceries over to Slab Town, do you want to go with me?" I'd go. There was never anything out of the way and I thought so many times, you couldn't do anything like that now. Link was a very nice young man and congenial. He thought I would like a buggy ride and so I would go with him over to Slab Town. These were some of the early rememberances of Montana.

Since Saturday was a very busy day for Dad, he worked until 11 or 12 at night shaving and giving haircuts for all these miners, Mother said if he would teach her the trade she would help him, so he taught her.

When I was up in Montana, Mother would take a notion to go on a trip somewhere and she would put me on the train. When I would get off the train in Cache Junction I would look across the valley to the Logan Temple and I could almost cry, with the feeling I had. I would think, "That is my Temple and this is my home!" I was coming back home. I learned to shift for myself from the time I was six years old. She would put me on the train in Lewistown and the train would go to Butte, where I changed trains and then I would get off the train at Cache Junction and catch another train and go over to Smithfield. She may have said something to the Conductor, but I was on my own and I got to the point where I felt I knew as much where I was going as anybody else. I was independent and didn't need their help. I guess that's where I got my independence from.

My Mother's second husband was, James Howell Hendricks, and they were divorced in 1911, because of the age difference. He was very good to me. He was better to me than my own Father. When I would go back to Smithfield, my Grandfather Bingham would come and get me and take me to see my Father, my Father never came to see me, but I was always taken to see him. My Father maybe would give me a nickle, that was the size of it. He never kissed me or anything of that nature, or showed any affection.

I still kept in contact with Dad Hendricks through letters and I continued to see him.

My Mother and I moved to Minden, Montana, about eleven miles East. Mother worked as a barber, a trade she learned from my Step-Father.

My Mother married Walter Louis Geering, in Southern Utah. They moved to California and from then on it was move from one place to another. He was from New York City, and his parents had money, but he had been a wilful boy in his younger age and I guess decided to leave home. I didn't like the fellow and I didn't like the marriage. He was a miner at the time and Mother was working as the cook at the Wild Bill. I was eleven years old and they wanted to send me away to school and I wouldn't go, so I stayed with them. My job was to make the cake and puddings occasionally. That's all I had to do and I was free to go for the day. I wandered the desert, and Mother never knew where I was. Since I have had children of my own, I can't understand it, because I could no more have let one of my younsters off in the desert where there were rattlers all around. There was no school, and no other children. She would send me back to Grandmother's every once in a while, putting me on the train in Milford, Ut. I was not close to my Mother, I was not a part of her life. I was closest to my Step-Father.

That was my Mother's last marriage, he killed himself, and she put his body on the train back to New York to his brother.

Mother was working in a hotel restaurant where she cooked. The floor had been mopped and it was still wet, she slipped and fell and cracked her hip bone and pinched a nerve and they sent her home on a stretcher. After her accident she was sent to Smithfield and Aunt Bardella took care of her. That was in October and she died in March. The Death Certificate said "Nervous Prostration," she was thirty-one years old.

I was living in Smithfield when my school teacher, Sadie McCracken, asked me to sing in the choir. I said I couldn't sing, but there were no young women I chased around with except Fontella, my Father's sister, and Margarette Roskelley, Aunt Mary Jane's oldest son's daughter. I went to choir practice and Emma Roskelley (Hansen), Aunt Maggie's daughter, played the organ. I turned the music for her. I always managed to get in on what they were doing somehow. I met Gilbert at choir practice. He could sing when he wanted to and he had a good voice. He walked me home, across the street, I was 15 or 16. We put on a show and took it all over the valley and Logan. I went out with Gilbert a few times before my Mother died. She asked me who I came home with and she turned her head and said, "Oh, my Lord, it's a Roskelley!"

Mother died in March 1815 and Dad Hendrick adopted me in August. He sent me to school. I was going back to Iowa to school, and there was a Golden Wedding Anniversary on the 19th of October, so he took me back in September. I started school in Cincinnati, Ohio and was very unhappy with it. Dad went down to the dentist office one day and his secretary said she had a friend going to school in Valparaiso, Indiana. So Dad asked her about the school and then asked me if I wanted to go there. I wanted to go so I went and packed up my clothes. I stayed a year and then came back to Smithfield and married Gilbert Roskelley.

We were married August 29, 1917. I had come home in June. He had written to me now and then when he was in the army. I wasn't particularly interested in him, but we were married in the Salt Lake Temple.

I went to Bishop Winn to get a recomment and then I had to get the Stake President to sign it, of course, so I went to Lewiston, and after I got there I found he had gone out into the field and so I walked out there and found him on his tractor in the plowed field. He signed it and I tried to get back in time to catch the inter-urban back to Smithfield. I went to church on Sunday and the Stake President came to Smithfield. Gilbert had the Bishop and Stake President sign his recommend right there in Smithfield. I could have kicked myself all over the place.

We went to Salt Lake with Mother Roskelley and to the Temple. After the wedding she went to her sister's. We went to the hotel and no sooner got there when somebody came to the door and said he had a call from the camp. Somebody had missed him and he better get back as he was AWOL.

I stayed in the hotel by myself, and Gilbert went back to Fort Douglas. Later, I went out to Fort Douglas and we had our Wedding Supper out of a mess kit, sitting on a box in front of a tent. That's the way it was all through my life!

Gilbert was transferred to San Diego and I worked for the telephone company there after he went to France. It was 1918 and everyone had the flu. Every other position at the phone company was empty, we had to work our position and half of one on each side. Everytime we went to the restroom, we had 15 minutes every two hours, and every time we left the board we had to give up our mouthpiece. When we came back we had to have our throat sprayed and we would get a new mouthpiece for our headset and go back on the board. When we went back we were trying to reach all the positions and then all of a sudden the board lit up for the armistice.

History of Wanda B. Roskelley

by Wanda Roskelley

Born January 10, 1900, Smithfield, Cache County, Utah. Father - - Parley Pratt Bingham, Jr., Mother - - Julia Abigail Smith. Lived on a farm at Trenton, Utah my first year and then my parents moved to Ogden, Utah. Father and Mother divorced when I was two and on half years old. Went to live with my Mother's oldest sister, Elnora Jane Richardson at Driggs, Idaho. Lived with her until I was 5 years old when my mother came from Montana, where she had been working, to get me. She was married again. Her second husband's name was James Howell Hendricks. He was a cripple -- one leg being much shorter than the other. It did not hinder him for making a good living for my mother and myself. He accepted me as his own and was very good to me. When I was quite young I used to say I was married to him too, as I had stood beside them when they were married.

We made our home in Kendall, Montana, a thriving mining town at the time and it was here I started my schooling at the age of five.

The children I played with were all starting school and I was feeling rather left out as I wouldn't be six until January, so my mother told me to go to school and tell the teacher I was six years old. So when asked my age by the teacher, I replied that I was five, but my mother told me to tell her I was six. The teacher let me stay and I finished the 4th grade at Kendall and moved to Maiden, Montana for one year.

Then my Mother and Step Father were divorced. There was too much difference in their ages to make a compatible marriage. My stepfather was 17 years older than my Mother and my Mother was quite a young woman, having been married when she was just sixteen years old.

She went to Milford, Utah and cooked at a mining camp that year and I was out of school. She wanted to send me to live with a family in town so I could go to school but I didn't want to leave her so she let me stay out that year. From then on until I graduated from the 8th grade at Smithfield, Utah I attended eleven different schools in five different states. Mother died in March 1915 before I graduated from the 8th grade. I had my first year of High School in Smithfield, Utah, then I went east to Cincinnati, Ohio to school, but was disappointed in the school, so my stepfather sent me to the Valparaiso University, Valparaiso, Indiana. They gave high school courses along with university couses. I thoroughly enjoyed my year there and fully intended going back for the next year, but when on vacation to Smithfield I met Gilbert Roskelley, whom I had gone with while in school in Smithfield. He was on furlough. We decided to get married - we were married in the Salt Lake Temple, August 29, 1917. He was in the Army, and stationed at Fort Douglas. When I came down to Salt Lake City from Smithfield I found he had been confined to quarters for some infraction of regulations. The morning we were married he took a company of buglers out to Mt. Olivet Cemetary and told them to practice and he slipped away to be married - I went out to Fort Douglas later that day and had my wedding dinner out of a mess kit. I returned to my hotel room alone.

There really wasn't much of a honeymoon. I returned to Smithfield at the end of the week and then got a job in the confectionary where I worked for a while - Gilbert was sent to Camp Kearney - down by San Diego and I joined him there by Thanksgiving of that year. We rented a little cottage in the rear of a home. It had three small rooms - another soldier's wife shared it with me and we paid the sum of $10.00 per month rent. Our allotment was only $30.00.

In August the next year Gilbert was sent to France with the Regiment, the 145th Field Battalion. I then went to Los Angeles and stayed with the Aunt who had me when I was 2 1/2 until 5. Whille Gilbert was gone, I worked as a Telephone Operator. I was at the switchboard when the armistice was signed. It was quite a puzzle when all the lights came on at one time, and supervisors and the managers came around and told us to not become excited or panicky and just answer what calls we could. After about two hours the chief operator came to my position and said I might take the rest of the day off. I asked why - she replied that since my husband was overseas and the armistice had been signed I might like to celebrate with the rest of the people. That was the first I knew of the cause for the lights on our boards.

I went downstairs and once on the side walk found I had no choice of direction. You could only go one way with the crowd. In January of 1918 the war being over Gilbert returned to the United States and was sent to Logan, Utah for discharge. He then came to California and obtained employment. Gilber found work with an electrical contractor and made that his work.

In the following December, my first child was born, Jack Arthur - December 15, 1919.

On October 19, 1921 my second child was born. A girl, Juanita. When she was about two years old I took her and her brother Jack to Montana to visit my stepfather. We visited there for three months and then returned to Los Angeles. We moved to Inglewood - or just out of town about one mile. There were seven Mormon families living on one acre of ground. We built a garage, 12 by 18 and stored our furniture in one end and lived in the the other end. Gilber had broken his ankle while I was in Montana and was out of work so we were forced to live on a very meager allowance. We lived there for almost a year and then rented us a house in South Gate and moved there. We were only there about eight months and I got a divorce and again went to Montana. This time to Helena. I shared a house with my stepfather's sister. I learned the marcelling business and did marcelling in my home or often went to patrons homes. Gilbert came up to Washington then over to Montana and we effected a reconcilliation. Gilbert worked for the Anaconda Copper Co. We lived there about one year and then moved to Snohomish, Washington, where Gilbert had bought ten acres of ground with a small house. My stepfather went with us and lived out there about five months. Work was scarce and we lived out so far it was impossible to get a doctor. About time my third child was due I went to Ethel, Washington to be with another Aunt of mine. My stepfather became ill and he went to a small hospital for treatment of a bowel and leg ailment.

My third child, a boy, named Melvin Gale was born at Ethel, on November 13, 1926. We returned to Snohomish, when Gale was ten days old. It rained all the way. When we reached home, about 150 miles, I was sick with an abcessed breast and the baby got pneumonia. We tried to get a Doctor and none would come out. We worked over the baby and he was improving and I got word from my stepfather's hospital, he had passed away at Vader, Washington. I left the baby sick, and I was sick and went to Vader to make... (missing page)

...to Utah to look after her. We decided we would go. We had a half-ton truck which we covered with canvas and packed with our trunks - Barbara's high chair and sleeping quilts and a grub box fixed on the back. We sold the few things we had and had about $30.00 to make the trip on. When crossing the Blue Mountains the wind blew so hard we stopped the truck and propped it up with poles to keep it from blowing over until the wind subsided.

When we reached Smithfield we found my father had gone to my mother-in-law's and had plowed up the garden spot so that we could plant a garden as soon as we got there. My father also gave me a young heiffer. My mother-in-law's land had been rented out for so long and all machinery had either been taken off or was not worth trying to fix. My husband mortgaged the land and borrowed from the Government. We built a barn and bought some cows. It seemed we just weren't meant to succeed at anything. The depression came along and times were hard. I received clothing from the county, coats were made over for my children, underclothing I made from flour sacks. I was able to can fruits and vegetables from our orchard and garden. We had plenty of potatoes and we had enough wheat in the mill for our flour and cereal. In fact the persons in charge of county extension bureau came and took pictures of our cellar. Cash was sosmething we didn't have. We didn't have funds for purchases from the store or for buying coal.

Occasionally my husband would get a days work on W.P.A. which would help pay our light bills and coal. My mother-in-law died in September after our moving to Smithfield in April, 1932. January 14, 1933 my fifth child, Vance Bingham was born. That year we had a lot of illness in the family. Vance was a tiny baby in poor condition when born as I was not well myself. My blood count had gone down to 42 and I was under the doctor's care. We were unable to find a food to agree with Vance and he contracted whooping cough from Barbara who had got it from a neighbor boy. After we had gotten over the whooping cough Gale came home with scarlet fever. Our house was quarentined all fall and winter. I had cleaned the house with lysol and fumigated and had gone to Logan to shop for a few toys for Christmas and came home. The next day, after the children had their nap, I discovered they all had measles.

In 1937 my husband left and went to California and found employment at the Associated Oil Co. as an electrician. In the summer of 1938 we moved to Martinez, California. We lived in Martinez one year then moved to Clyde, just three miles out of Concord. It was while living in Clyde that I was set apart as President of the Relief Society, 1938 thru 1942. We then moved to Concord. In December 1943 I went to work at the post office - after working at the Camp Stoneman Hospital and the storehouse at Benicia Arsenal. I then worked as the inspector in the Testing Labratory of the Associated Oil Co.

In 1941 Jack made a trip to Russia on the oil tanker, Associated. They were followed by Japanese ships - it was a dangerous voyage. He joined the Air Force upon his return and served 3 1/2 years overseas. While in England he married Hilda Gertrude Marsden. He returned to us in October 1945 and his wife came to the U. S. in May 1946.

Juanita was an ammunition inspector supervising the loading of ships with ammunition in New Orleans in 1944 and 1945. She was home for a vaction from October to December 1945 when Jack returned.

Gale had married Ruth Ellen Rhoda of Berkeley, California in May of 1944 and had just completed his officer's training in Georgia so went with us to Camp Beale to meet Jack. We had a wonderful family reunion.

Juanita and Ted renewed their courtship and were married February 2, 1946.

In 1950 I obtained a divorce from my husband and made a trip with Juanita and Vance to Provo, Utah to visit Barbara who was attending B.Y.U.

In June of 1951 Vance and I met Barbara and Joe at Provo and went to Yellowstone Park and on up into Montana where I spent my girlhood. On July 9, 1951 Barbara and Joe were married. When Joe went into the service and after finishing his special schooling and their first baby was born - Karen - they came back to California. Joe was being sent to Japan out of Camp Stoneman so Barbara and Karen came to live with me.

September 6, 1952 Gale was killed in Korea. Vance had joined the Navy in 1952 and he was appointed Honorary Escort at his brother's funeral. Gale was brought back from Korea October 29th. His funeral was held in Martinez October 31, 1952 and he was buried in the Golden Gate National Cemetary, San Bruno, California.

In the fall of 1952 I bought me a home on Bonifacio St. in Concord, four blocks from the post office where I still work.

July 2, 1954 Gilber died of a heart attack and Vance came back from Alaska where he had been stationed for 1 1/2 years for the funeral. Gilbert was buried July 5, 1954 at Golden Gate National Cemetary, San Bruno, California, almost directly opposite of Gale on the far side of the cemetary.

Vance was about due for return to the States so was assigned to Moffett Field, California. It was close enough that he spent considerable time at home which I appreciated for Barbara and Karen were gone and I was alone.

In the fall of 1954 Joe came home and he and Barbara and Karen moved back to Provo where he rentered B.Y.U. to complete his schooling.

When Vance received his separation papers in May 1956 we took a month's vacation to Mexico which we both enjoyed immensely. Vance was married 9 April 1960 to Shirley Mae Johnson in the Los Angeles Temple.

I am visiting Barbara during the Christmas holiday (1960) and having a wonderful time both at her home and the Library where I have made a few additions to my genealogy.