Finding Christ at Christmas

It's the day before Christmas, 2007. It's my seventy third Christmas...fifty fifth as an "adult". And still I struggle with the same earnest desire to become so close to my Savior that I can feel Him close to me, feel His love and peace, and more importantly feel the deep love and gratitude I know I should have for Him and my Father in Heavenly for the great sacrifice they both made that I might return to their presence. Don't take me wrong. I DO love the Savior and my Heavenly Father, but I guess what I desire is to feel more than the earthly love that I feel for my children and spouse, which is the deepest love I have yet to feel. I guess what I want to feel is true charity...the true love that Christ has for us especially during the Christmas season. You would think that at this season of the year when we as Christians and members of His church should focus on His birth and mission as the center of our celebration that drawing close would be easier. I have found it just the opposite. It has become the time that we get so encumbered with relatively unimportant things, so stressed by the demands on our time and energy, even so engaged in trying to do good things for others that we have no time left for peaceful solitude and reflection, for quiet and sincere study and prayer, to be alone out among God's beautiful creations and feel His presence there. I guess I'm talking about us wives and mothers.

This year I have been thinking back at Christmas past and trying to remember if perhaps there have been glimpses of this feeling that I desire that I may have missed because I wasn't paying attention. These are some of the things that came to mind.

• Christmas Eves as a child with family - definitely warm memories, but more of childhood excitement.
• The year I received the most beautiful doll in the whole world - definitely childhood excitement. No spiritual memories here.<>
• <>The year my little brother (Jr. High age) told mom he wanted to give the money that would be spent on him for Christmas (all of $10.00) to help a needy family that was adopted by his home room class. I was proud of him, but I'm sure it was he that had the feelings of love from the Savior.
• <>The first Christmas we were married. My mother had passed away that October and no one stepped up to planning a family Christmas. It had been mother who had always done that. The most sad and empty Christmas of my life. It could have been so different if I had stepped up to the plate.
• The next Christmas after our little Jeanie was born. This one became one of the best. Why? Jim was in school and we had next to nothing to spend on Christmas. I think that is one of the keys to having a more spiritual holiday. You become so grateful for what you DO have. And we had our little family. I remember buying three toys for Jeanie...a little four-piece plastic train (no track), a stuffed animal, and I can't remember what else. I just remember hiding them in the bottom of zip-up clothes bag...as if I needed to hide them from a nine month old. We managed a small tree, one string of lights, a dozen glass ornaments and finished decorating it with our Christmas cards as we received them. Definitely one of our more spiritual Christmas's.
• The year our landlord died and our low-rent house was put up for sale. We needed to save money for a new house so only gave the small children dime-store gifts (they didn't mind a bit) and the adults did white elephants, a tradition still going on today. Then our children gave us the best Christmas ever. They pooled their hard-earned money and gave us a down payment on a new house. How blessed we felt for having such wonderful, loving children.
• As our family grew and our Christmas traditions became established, we tried to make doing for others a part of those traditions. Each year we tried to do a service for someone in need. Surely this would bring those burning feeling of love I desired to feel. But even service projects require planning and shopping. I spent so much time and effort in preparation that I left no time for myself for those quiet reflective moments. I have often wished I had a grove of trees in my back yard where I could find the peace and quiet.

There are many more Christmases I could write about. But I want to get to this year. This year I have had brief glimpses of that elusive burning in the bosom type love of and for God and His son. And it is because I made the effort. I completed my preparations by the first of December so I could really concentrate doing what I needed to do to be truly worthy of the feelings I desired. I earnestly studied the New Testament this year and even completed the Institute manual on the New Testament. It was my desire to really get to KNOW God and His Son. It is hard to love someone you do not know. It's hard to describe how I felt as I read and studied. Christ became a person, not a story. I cried over the pain and suffering He went through and truly wanted to show my love and appreciation. Did I feel true charity as I desired and in return did I feel His love? Maybe my expectations aren't realistic, but I did have one experience in which I knew for a brief instance how that love feels. I was visiting one of the inactive sisters that I visit teach. Her inactivity is due to the fact that she feels she can never be forgiven of past transgressions. She has had a incredibly difficult life but has raised a good family. I felt inspired to buy her the book "The Miracle of Forgiveness" for Christmas. I wasn't sure how she would react, so I prayed hard before I went to give it to her. Although, since day one of meeting her four years ago, I felt a special bond today I felt such consuming love for that sister that I broke into tears as I hugged her. I thought to myself, "This is what it must feel like to have Christ-like love". I've really tried to serve God's children this year, and I've tried to give myself time alone with my Father and my Savior to express my love and feel Their love for me. They are always there for me. It is I who does not open that door to them by what I do or do not do. It is my hope and prayer that before I die I will have that constant burning love in my heart for not only my Heavenly Father and my brother, Christ, but for all of my brothers and sisters here on earth. May you all have the same desire and may you be blessed always for all your righteous efforts.

The Most Important Decision of my Life

I enjoyed my new classes at BYU following Christmas break, but as for my social life, that was a different story. I had no desire to date, so I just concentrated on my studies. That quarter I took an archery class along with my academics. My dad was an archer and made all his own equipment including his bows and arrows. He had taught me how to shoot when I was pretty young, and even made me my own bow. So I was not new to the sport. I guess that gave me somewhat of an advantage, and I ended up being the intra-mural archery champion in competition that year. I still have my medal. I still enjoy archery and have taught at several girls camps and was a merit badge counselor in archery for the Boy Scouts for quite a few years.

I believe it was towards the end of February that I was tired of thinking up excuses for turning down dates. I definitely had not been having any fun up to now and had no desire to keep trying. In my next letter to Jim I wrote that I loved him and was waiting for him whether he liked it or not. Actually, it was the first letter I had written in about a month because I was trying to decide what to tell him about those dates, what not to tell him about them, and if I was being a little presumptuous about his feelings for me. I had no idea how his lack of mail from me had affected him until he later told me that he had gone out in the nearby woods to pray. He asked the Lord to help him forget about me if I was not the right one. The very next day he received my letter and felt that he had received an answer to his prayer. The next letter I received from him was a proposal of marriage. We were pretty young to be talking marriage...I just eighteen and Jim just barely twenty. But it wasn't like we had just met. We had actually known each other for over five years.

About two weeks later, on April 1, 1953, I received a ring in the mail. (Jim still teases me that it was all just an elaborate April Fools Day Joke... getting engaged that is). Actually, he sent the set of rings because he had no place to keep the wedding band safe on the base in the Philippines. I didn't know until later that Jim had been saving his money to buy a motor scooter to ride around the base and to do some sight seeing. He gave up that motor schooter to buy those rings. I was so excited that I took a bus home to show my parents who were about as thrilled as me. I expected that of mom because she so wanted to see her children settled before she passed away. She knew she was living on borrowed time. But my dad surprised me. Everywhere we went he would hold up my hand to show off the ring...even to near strangers. It was embarrassing at times. I knew that they both liked Jim, and from their reaction to my engagement I knew that they approved.

It would be a wait of over a year before I would see Jim again. I spent the time finishing that year at BYU and then home to work. I knew I wouldn't be able to return to school that fall because I would have to earn the money for a wedding, which I knew I would have to pay for. And I wanted to have a trousseau before I got married. For you "young'uns" who don't know what a trousseau is, it is a collection of linens, dishes, silverware, etc. that all newly weds need. But back then we embroidered everything...sheets, pillow cases, even dishtowels. AND we crocheted the edges of the embroidered pillow cases. I had a beautiful cedar chest which my parents had given me for high school graduation, and I wanted to fill it up. But first I had to find a job. That was my next task.

Time to Count Your Blessings

During this Thanksgiving week my thoughts have frequently turned to the many blessings I have received throughout my life...not just the big obvious ones that we often dwell upon but the small daily gifts that we way too often overlook. Then today our lesson in Relief Society from Elder Henry B. Eyring's conference address, "O Remember, Remember" reinforced what I have been thinking. Every night before he retired he made it a habit to ask himself this question: "Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?" Then as he thought about his day and pondered that question he began to see evidence of what God had done for him or one of his family that he had not recognized in the busy moments of his day. And he would write those things down for his children to read sometime in the future. I would encourage you to read that talk if you haven't already done so or read it again if you have. I think if we took the time each day to do what Elder Eyring did, each one of us would realize how the hand of God touches our lives on a daily basis.

As I have reflected on the many many things I have to be grateful for, the ones which came to my mind first were those that were very obvious and for which I express gratitude on a continuing basis. But as I have given time and thought to the more subtle blessings I came to realize that many people had touched my life in small but powerful ways, and I came to understand how God has used His children as instruments in His hand to bless and enrich my life on a daily basis.

So here are some of the things for which I am so grateful today.

• My Heavenly parents and my Father's great plan of salvation
• My life. The blessing I have of coming to this earth to receive a body.
• My parents who gave me life and loved and taught me.
• My eternal companion whom I love so dearly
• My special, special family (that includes all of my extended family)
• The Restoration of the gospel and the prophet, Joseph Smith, who suffered so much to establish Christ's church once again on earth
• A prophet to guide us through these troubled times
  
• The beautiful "paid-for" home that we have at this time in our life. This has been a true miracle to me being that we were so late in life being able to purchase a home.
• The beauty that surrounds us here in Tehachapi

These are the big obvious things. Now the smaller ones that have come to my mind.

• My sister, Georgia, who was my friend and confidant for many years before her death. Although Jim complained about the high telephone bill because of my long talks with her, I would tell him that it was cheaper than having to pay a psychiatrist. He soon quit complaining.
• The first person that said, "Hi! My name is Frances Bennett. Welcome to Tehachapi".
• An orthopedic surgeon who did micro surgery on my back even though he knew my insurance would not pay for the "micro" part of the operation. And he didn't charge me the difference.
• A Sunday School teacher who motivated me to read the New Testatment with a whole new depth of understanding and feeling of gratitude for our Savior and the great leaders of His church following His death who were so dedicated and committed to the gospel to suffer and die to spread His word throughout the known world. How I learned to love and appreciate these great men!
• A home teacher who dropped by to give us a pumpkin pie the day before Thanksgiving and his wife who baked it.
• A mission call to Uganda for a grandson who made the choice to go on a mission rather than to go back to Africa on his own to work for the people he learned to love.
  
• The animals and birds who frequent my back yard. I love watching them out the window
  
• Having grandchildren run up to me and yell, "Grandma, Grandma!" when they see me
• The close friendship and love I feel for and from my Jim. I love having him at home all the time.
• Technology that helps me stay in such close touch with the family (even though I have a love-hate relationship with computers)
• A sister in our ward who has many debilitating health problems but when asked, "How are you today?" always answers, "Blessed". She has become one of my pool buddies.
• The Christmas season and the joy, peace, and happiness it brings
  
• Puppies and kittens

I could go on and on the more I think about it. My goal this season is to write some over due thank-you notes to some of the people who may not realize that they have been instruments in God's hands to bless my life in small but important ways. May you also take time this season to count your blessings and give gratitude to those through whom they come.

Dating Can Be Fun?????

College was more difficult than I expected, especially since I was (am) such a perfectionist. Anything less than an "A" on any paper or especially on an exam was very traumatic for me. It didn't take too much effort in high school to get A's, but now it was a different story. I don't remember my grades that year, but I'm sure it they weren't a 4.0. And trudging to class at 7:30 in the morning in snow up to your knees wasn't a piece of cake either. I remember a few times just putting a long coat over my warm pajamas to head for that class.

I tried to go home as often as I could on the weekends. I needed to see Mom as often as I could because she had sacrificed my help in order for me to get more education, and I appreciated that. I felt better about being gone when my sister, Claire, and her family moved into a house about a block away from Mom and my Grandma Knapp (Mom's mom) moved in with her. They became readily available to help out on Mom's increasingly frequent "bad" days. No matter how bad she was feeling, she would always make the necessary effort to go to church every week, and even taught Relief Society one day a month from her wheel chair. In her weekly letters to me at school she would often bounce ideas off me regarding an upcoming lesson. Once in a while she would ask me to draw an illustration for her to use. I remember once drawing a large picture of Lehi's dream of the Tree of Life and the "iron rod". I didn't have anything to look at so had to draw it strictly from my interpretation of the scripture as a reference. That was a real challenge for me because I was never good at getting a picture from my mind transferred to paper. But Mom was happy with the results, and that was all that really mattered to me.

On one of those weekend visits home I had an experience that still makes me laugh. From the time I was a child I had always been told that I should never take anything out of the refrigerator to eat unless I asked. This was a rule I obeyed (most of the time) even as an adult. But this day I opened the fridge to look for something to drink. There, right in front of me, was an opened bottle of 7-up. "That looks good", I thought. "I'll just take sip and nobody will know the difference." So I did. My reaction to that sip was to spray it all over the interior of that open refrigerator. It wasn't 7-up...it was beer! I was in shock. What was beer doing in a 7-up bottle in OUR refrigerator. Mother had to confess that the doctor had prescribed a little beer each day to stimulate her enlarged heart and to help increase her appetite. She was too embarrassed to keep a beer can where it could be seen, so she transferred the beer to a pop
bottle so no one would know what she was drinking. Serves me right for breaking the rules!

Did I do as Jim asked and accept dates at school that year? Yes, for a while. I wasn't asked out a lot, but one stand-out date was with Dwight Stucki. Yes, I remember his name for several reasons. First, he was the student head honcho (I don't remember his rank) of the Air Force ROTC for which I was a sponsor. It made me feel special to think that this "important" guy, a senior to boot, would ask a lowly freshman out on a date. Actually there was more than one.
The second reason I remember his name is that it didn't take me long to find out that he was a total jerk! He began trying to take me alone to his apartment (I refused) and trying to become too familiar on dates. I dropped him FAST. Another man I dated whose name I also remember was Jerry Moss. I had good reasons for remembering him as well. He was a returned missionary who served in South Africa. I was initially interested in him because of his last name "Moss". It was a James E. Moss that who was the initiator and head of seminary at Granite High School. He was a much loved and respected man, and if Jerry was a relative, he just had to be a great guy, too. Well, he WAS a grandson, but definitely not like his grandfather as I found out after dating him a while. I became a little suspicious of his intent when he tried to convince me that it was OK to participate in more intimate activities on dates because "they weren't forbidden according to the temple ordinances". Even though I had no idea about what information was in a temple endowment, I knew this wasn't right. My own conscience confirmed that. Then his mother made me this gorgeous formal skirt for Christmas. Since when do mothers make fancy gifts for a son's "casual" date? The next thing that gave me more concern was when the large diamond that he had purchased in Africa and had set in ring which he wore suddenly disappeared. He had told me that he bought the diamond for an engagement ring when he met the right one. That did it. I was dating for "fun" and I knew he was getting serious. I planned to tell him that I didn't want to see him anymore on our next date which had already been set. I was in Salt Lake that weekend and we had a date to go somewhere up there. I don't remember where. But on the way home, driving through Parley's Canyon, I gave him the news. I never anticipated the reaction he would have. He began driving like a maniac on that curvy icy canyon road. It was in January. Needless to say I was very scared but kept my composure enough to reach over and pull the keys out of the ignition. I opened the car door, jumped out, threw the keys on the seat and told him I was walking home. He calmed down and promised that if I got back in the car that he would drive me home in a sane way. I wanted to believe him because it was 12:00 o'clock at night, freezing cold, and we were at least five miles away from my home. He kept his word and I got home safely. I watched him from our front window and was concerned to see him standing in the middle of the street instead of driving home. I was concerned about his frame of mind because he was acting so irrationally, so I woke my parents. I had told them about my feelings towards Jerry, and they knew I was breaking it off that night. My dad was wonderful. He got dressed, went outside and talked to him for quite a while. I have no idea what he said, but Jerry got in his car and drove off. I didn't see him at all after that...not even at school. I believed once again that God had protected me from "evil designing men" as my patriarchal blessing had stated. I don't believe that Jerry was evil, but his thoughts and actions were not the best.

All these months I had been writing at least two or three letters a week to Jim. I loved his letters which came just as often. They were always so up and supportive and loving in a friendly way. Those letters helped me keep a positive perspective towards men when I had those negative experiences. It gave me a greater understanding and appreciation of what a special person he really was. I was seriously contemplating what my next step should be.

BYU Here I Come

Tearfully I said good-bye to Jim and began packing to go off to college. Several friends from school and I rented a little old run-down house (all we could afford) about a mile from campus. None of us had a car so we needed a place within walking distance. A few days before school started we took in a "cutie", Carolyn Joyner, from South Carolina who was desperately looking for a place to live. She was really the "life" in that old house, and we learned to love her a lot. We would take her home to Salt Lake with us on the weekends that we went.

There was no pre-registering on phone back in 1952, and no computers. We had to stand in long lines to sign up for each individual class, and, of course, by the time you got to the front of the line the class would be filled and you'd have to start all over trying to get into an alternate class. By the time you finished registering your schedule didn't even resemble the original "perfect" one you had planned. Those early 7:00 AM classes that you definitely did not want were all too prevalent, and the time between classes was ridiculous not to mention the distance from one class to another. Back then classes were still held on "lower campus" which was the old original BYU building on University Avenue which I think has now been preserved and turned into a library. Upper campus was composed of the Maeser Administration Building, the Brimhall Building (library), the Joseph Smith Building, and the brand new Science Building...the one with the Foucault pendulum. There were a few miscellaneous small buildings that housed classrooms and some dorms (I think Helaman Halls). That was it!

School was divided into quarters rather than semesters, so you were able to take more classes during the regular school year. Some of the classes I remember taking that year were Spanish, English, bacteriology, geology, sociology, interior decorating, American history, and Book of Mormon. I think my favorite was geology. I still remember a great deal of what I learned and find I still notice and am able to identify many geological features in the environment. I loved the field trips we took around the Salt Lake valley where so many geological events occurred.
My favorite professor was Marden Clark, my English teacher. Actually he is the only one I remember by name. That should say something. I really don't like the writing part of English, and that is probably all we did the first quarter. And literature isn't my favorite, either, and that was mainly the second quarter's curriculum. I had to write my very first research paper that year in English, and my second for sociology. Talk about being thrown into the fire! I had never had to do a research paper in high school as you do now, so I was oblivious as to how much work it was, especially because of what was expected on a college level. Writing that paper for English was the hardest thing I had to do that year, but it was what gave me the greatest feeling of accomplishment as well. The subject I chose to write on was, "The Effects of Literature on the Civil War". I still have that hand written paper...yes, hand written. There were no computers then, and I didn't own a typewriter nor did I have access to one. Not that it would have done me any good, anyway, because I couldn't type. But can you imagine writing a long paper with footnotes by hand trying to anticipate how much room you were going to need at the bottom of each page for footnotes? It was CRAZY! But I did it, and I even got an "A". The sociology paper wasn't quite as bad because it came later on in the quarter, and now I had had a little experience. The subject I chose for that one was "Man's Pugnacious Nature as a Cause of War". I think I still have that paper as well.

At the beginning of the school year I applied to join the Sponsor Corp, a women's service auxiliary to the Air Force ROTC there on campus. It required filling out an application form, going through several interviews, and then finally meeting with a board of high ranking officers in the ROTC for a final selection. There were only a few spaces available for freshman applicants so the competition was pretty tough. I was lucky enough to make the cut and was issued my formal uniform. As I said, this was a service organization, and as such we ushered at school events, helped with activities sponsored by our male counterparts, help plan service projects on campus, and interacted with other Air Force ROTC units at the University of Utah. We even had social activities with them, one of which they matched up the Sponsors at BYU with the cadets at the University of Utah for a dance...you might say a "blind date" affair. That was interesting! The only thing I remember about my date was that he was barely as tall as I was...maybe even a little shorter. I was a little uncomfortable with that, but I had fun anyway.

It wasn't long into the year that we met several young men who lived in the house next to ours. They let us know that they weren't eating too well, so we arranged to feed them the evening meal for a price, of course. They were willing to pay thinking that they would get a good home made meal each night. What they didn't know was that none of us were the greatest cooks, even if we had the time to actually cook. I remember eating and preparing meals that weren't so great. I think our guests soon realized that, too, and made other arrangements. I think they did meet one of their secondary goals, however....that of getting to know several of my roommates well enough to ask for dates...which they did.

Did I have a career interest when I started college? Yes, I had a goal major that I knew was not available at BYU, which was Occupational Therapy. Through counseling I was informed where I would have to go to complete that major, the closest of which was the University of Colorado. I knew my chances of making it that far were pretty slim, but I decided that I could at least finish my basic requirements at BYU. And I was on my way.

The Seeds of Love are Planted

The summer following my high school graduation was very eventful. My Uncle LeGrande (my dad's younger brother) and his wife, Aunt Myrt, treated me and my sister, Georgia, to a trip to Southern California. They had recently moved there with their two small children and were anxious to show us the sights of their new city. It was my first time to see the Pacific Ocean, or any ocean for that matter, to visit the famous San Juan Capistrano where the swallows return on the same day every year (we only saw pigeons and lots of them), to drive through Hollywood and Bel Air to see the homes of the rich and famous, to see all the stars on Sunset Boulevard, and eat for the first time in a cafeteria where you walk down a line of food and choose what you want to eat. It was a wonderful vacation for me before returning home to work.

Since I would be leaving for school in the fall, my parents decided to sell our house and move to a smaller one with less property to take care of. Only Georgia and J.D. would still be at home. They purchased a small home on Dearborn St. nead Stratford Road. There was only one bedroom, a kitchen, living room, and bathroom upstairs, and two finished bedrooms in the basement. Georgia and I shared one bedroom that summer and J.D. the other. Our new house was within a short walking distance to the church, Stratford Ward, and was closer to my work at the bakery. That was nice.

It was only a few weeks after moving that I was called to teach Junior Sunday School (Primary was held on a weekday). I remembered that special teacher I had had who made books for all of us and decided to do the same for my little class. I spent a lot of time cutting and pasting and writing reminders of each lesson I taught. It was fun for me even though it only lasted the three summer months. I continued to work the whole summer, putting away most of the money to pay for housing at BYU and only buying a few new clothes. My parents waived my paying room and board, as we were expected to do once we turned eighteen and were working, because I was saving for school. I don't think my sister thought that it was fair as she was paying her monthly "dues". But she was making a lot more money than me working in an office.

The best part of the summer was when Jim came home on leave from the Air Force. He had been gone for a year for basic training and to attend electronics school. He was going to be home the whole month of August before being shipped overseas to the Philippines. I heard that he was back, and really wanted to see him. But I knew he wouldn't make the first move to see me since we hadn't dated that last year he was in school, and I hadn't even written to him as a friend the whole year that he had been gone. Soooo....being the wuss that I was, I had my sister call him. She told him that she thought I would go out with him if he would ask. I was standing right next to her the whole time she was on the phone. Well, it only took a few minutes before the phone rang, and you can guess who it was. We went out that night and two or three nights a week the whole month of August. He took me to movies, to dinner, on walks, to the top of "I" street which looked over the whole valley, and invited me to his home for dinner. He introduced me Mexican food which I had never eaten before and which I found a little too hot(spicy) for my taste. There was only one Mexican restaurant in Salt Lake, Cordova's, and we went there several times as Jim assured me that the taste of Mexican food would "grow" on me. It took quite a while before I learned to really like it....only if it wasn't too hot. During that month Jim would often send me flowers. It wasn't until later that I discovered he was also sending them to another girl, Pat, a friend I knew and really liked. It seems that he had another "friend" that worked at a florist and would give him wholesale prices on the flowers if he bought enough. I guess he was covering all his bases just in case I got flakey again.

By the end of the summer we were getting pretty serious, but being the great guy that he was and still is, he told me that since he was going to be gone for two years, and I was going to school, he didn't want me to just sit around and wait. He wanted me to date and have a good time. I reluctantly agreed, believing I would be hard pressed to find anyone with whom I could have fun when I was feeling the way was about him. But I was young and Jim was young so I thought that this might be my chance to compare and be sure of my feelings. It was really hard to say good-bye when Jim left. Two years seemed like such a long, long time. But fortunatly the time for me to leave for school was just days away, and I was excited about starting a new adventure in my life.

Last Memories of Childhood

Thinking back to the many changes and advancements in technology that have occurred in my lifetime, I stand in awe and amazement. I thought of some things that were so different at home and at school as I was growing up. And risking that you may think that I am much older than I really am (73 years young and not born in the Stone Age) I'll share a few of those things that have changed so much.

• Telephones - Growing up we had dial phones and party lines. Most of you probably have at least seen a dial phone, but I'm sure not too many have experienced a party line. A party line meant that four people shared a single phone line. If any of the the four were using the phone, none of the other three could. AND you could listen in on any conversation going on by the other parties. If you could afford the extra cost, you could opt for a 2-party line. If we got bored as kids and if a parent was not around we would pass the time listening to others on the party line. The idea of cells phones was still out there in space somewhere.
  
• Furnaces - The furnace in our first home operated on coal. Each month a truck would deliver coal and the driver would shovel it through a basement window on to a shute that carried it into a a storage bin. The furnace was not just a small metal box that we see today but a large cement fire-burning oven that took up a whole small room in the basement. (I think it was cement. It could have been heavy metal of some sort) Dad would have to shovel the coal into the furnace morning and night where it would burn and heat would rise into vents that took it to rooms in the house. Before we moved from that house Dad had a stoker installed that automatically fed the coal in to the furnace. He then only had to fill the stoker with coal once or twice a week depending on how cold it was. Our next house was heated with oil instead of coal. I can't remember what that furnace even looked like. I only remember the oil truck delivering the oil each month.
  
• Washing machines - We've already talked about that.
• Automobiles - No automatic transmissions, push-button window openers, signal lights, seat belts, sun roofs, power steering or brakes (no power anything...not even the engines seemed very powerful.) The only car we ever had while I was growing up was that little ford club coupe that Dad bought from Uncle Ken.
• School Supplies and Dress - No computers, not even calculators. We were very good at doing math in our heads and very fast at using a pencil and paper to do problems. I can still do math as fast and more accurately on paper than with a calculator. We had no ball point pens, backpacks, tape recorders or players, memory sticks, i-pods, etc. etc. Girls only wore skirts to school. No pants were allowed. Boys wore jeans or slacks and nice shirts...no T- shirts.

I'm sure there were other things if I took the time to think about it. These were just things that popped into my mind this week.

Foods I never had at home (never even heard of some of them)

• Broccoli
• Artichokes
• Jicama
• Tortillas (actually not any kind of Mexican food)
• Fresh herbs
• Nectarines
• Leeks
• Squash of any kind
• Yogurt
• Romaine lettuce (or any other kind of lettuce except Iceberg)

Foods I ate (and hated) that you probably have never tasted:

• Parsnips - my mom loved them.
  
• Clabber milk (milk that is left out to sour until it actually thickens then sprinkled with sugar.
  
• Endive - a leafy vegetable (very bitter)
  
• Asparagus (You've probably have eaten this, but I gagged on it as a child. I still hate it.)
• Kippered herring - raw herring (a fish) in a milky white sauce. My dad loved it.
• Hutzpot - Potatoes, carrots, onions, and bacon pieces all mashed up together. My dad said that the Dutch people survived on this during the World War II. I guess you could say that we survived on it, too, since it was cheap and we had it real often. I have never made it during my married life and don't plan to (unless we're starving and had nothing to eat but potatoes, carrots, and onions.
• Lots of fried rabbit - I did like this. It was our usual Sunday dinner.

So goes some of the memories of my childhood. When I graduated from high school I began a whole new phase of my life as I became and official "adult". But I still had so much to learn.

An End to Childhood

I guess I was kind of excited at beginning my final year of high school. However, there were still twinges of disappointment at being a senior in high school instead of a freshman at the University of Utah. AND, although I hated to admit it, I found myself looking to catch a glimpse of Jim on the bus or walking down the halls at school. I didn't see him at church anymore because the ward had been divided and we were now in different buildings. Then it would dawn on me that he had graduated and was now in basic training somewhere in the U.S....someplace that I didn't even know. The Korean War was waging and rather than being drafted into the army, (a draft was in place at that time) Jim had chosen to enlist in the Air Force. This meant a four-year commitment and the likelihood that he would have to give up a mission for the Church. Many young men would have to do the same because there were only a small number deferments given to men of draft age to go on missions.

I should have been excited about the possibility of getting a driver's license, but I really wasn't. Actually I was old enough a year ago at age sixteen, but I had watched my dad try to teach my older sisters to drive, and it wasn't a pretty picture. I was not too anxious to go there. Dad didn't have a whole lot of patience, and cars back then didn't have automatic transmissions or signal lights. So you had to shift gears, and use hand signals when making turns. To pass the driver's test, you also had to parallel park and park on a hill...not easy things to learn. I decided I could wait a while before learning. And besides, we only had one car which Dad drove to work, and with two other drivers waiting a chance to use it, I would probably never have a chance, anyway.

The good things which I remember that year were:

• The chance to actually be a part of that year's musical production of "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court". As part of the Physical Education for senior girls was modern dance. Our P.E. instructor picked six girls to dance in the show. I was one. We danced as court slaves which meant we had to darken the skin of our whole bodies with this awful theatrical paint. It was horrible trying to get it off after every performance. But since I have always loved to dance, it was worth it.
• Attending my first and only school dance with my dad. It was a special Father-Daughter dance, and I really have to give it to my dad for going with me. You see he didn't dance. But what made this night so incredible was that we won the waltz contest. The only reason why is that we were the only ones actually doing a waltz step. I taught Dad really quick what a waltz step was when they announced the contest. He was scared to death, but was a quick learner. He was one happy father when we won.
• A date with Hugh Pinnock, president of our student body. Everyone loved Hugh. He was kind, considerate, sensitive and a friend to all. He recognized that I was not one of the "popular" crowd and didn't date much (actually not at all that senior year), and although everyone knew he had a girl friend, he still asked me out to a movie at the Villa Theater. Imagine how I felt being asked out by the president of the whole school. It did wonders for my self esteem. He used to call me, "Whaanita, my leetle flower." It was not at all surprising to me that he became a general authority (a member of the seventy) years later. After seeing him at our 30th class reunion, he sent me a special letter that will always be special to me.
• Being assigned by my art teacher (yes, I was still taking an art class) to design and make the crown for the queen of the Harvest dance, and to design a letter head for the Lion's Club which they had requested. I made the crown out of orange satin to look like a pumpkin (it looked better than it sounds) and I can still picture that letter head in my mind. The Lion's Club actually used it.
• Although not school related, I had become an aunt for the first time the year before. My sister, Claire, had given birth to a little girl, Maurine, who was a doll. When Easter came that April of my senior year, I found out that Maurine didn't have a frilly Easter Dress, so I stayed up all night making her one with a matching bonnet. I can't describe how I felt to see her all dressed up in that yellow organdy dress.
• Graduating from seminary, a formal affair in one of the church buildings near the school. Yes, the girls wore long dresses and the boys wore suits. I wore the lavender dress that I wore for my sister's wedding. Besides receiving a certificate we were given a beautiful pin with tiny rubies and pearls and the letters "LDS". Attached to the pin was a tiny chain and the numbers "52", the year that I graduated. I still have my pin with a few stones and the "52" missing.
• Graduating in a white cap and gown on the football field of my alma matre, Granite High School, one of the oldest high schools in Salt Lake City. No Disneyland afterwards, only a dance that I did not attend.
  
• GETTING A SCHOLARSHIP TO BYU!!!
  

<><>

Life Is Full of Joys and Disappointments

It was in my junior year that a new program was introduced at Granite High School. Known as the Civil Air Patrol (CAP for short), it introduced a class in aviation for the first time. The program was kind of like ROTC but was civilly rather than military program the purpose of which was to train cadets for air search and rescue. I was instantly interested in the program because I always had a fascination with aircraft technology. I wanted to understand how airplanes could fly, and that was part of the aviation class. So I joined along with about five other girls and about three times that number of boys. No, that was not my motivation!

Although the CAP was not a military based program, we had army-type uniforms and earned army-type rank. By the end of my first year, which included a summer field exercise at an Air Force base in Cheyenne, Wyoming, I had earned the rank of first lieutenant. (Rank was not too hard to come by.) We flew to Cheyenne in an army prop-driven transport plane (C-47) which was nothing like the commercial ones we fly in today. But I was excited anyway because it was my first-ever flight in an airplane. We lived in barracks on the base (separate from the boys), had regular inspections, ate in the mess hall, learned to fire rifles on the fire range (I had a very sore shoulder after that experience), and had flying demonstrations of various kinds of aircraft. It was a fun experience.

That year the school also acquired a Link Trainer which was by the military used to train pilots on in-cabin instruments by simulating of various flying conditions. You were closed in this small unit and had to fly using instruments only. The trainer would respond to whatever you did with the controls. Unfortunately there was really no one qualified to teach how to use it correctly, so mostly we just played around with it. All members of the CAP had access to it during our own time. An Aviation Club was formed this year and we even sponsored a school dance.

In order to make time for my aviation class in my junior year I had to give up orchestra, but I continued on with my art class. I had to make a choice, and art was it. Learning to oil paint that year made that choice exciting. I bought my first oil-painting set, pallet, brushes, and even made my own painter's smock to wear. I had my first painting framed and gave it to my parents for Christmas that year. (It really wasn't that good, but at the time I was proud of it.)
We also learned how to do leather tooling that year which gave me the opportunity to tool a belt for my dad which he wore for as long as I can remember.

Other highlights of this year were the production of Brigadoon (awesome performance even though I wasn't personally involved this year), dating Jim off and on (mostly off by the end of the year), and an opportunity to attend the University of Utah on a full four-year scholarship.
I'll explain this last one. The Ford Foundation wanted to fund an experiment to see if high performing students in their junior year could succeed on a college level if they skipped their senior year and enrolled in a local university. Tests were given to top students selected by the faculty and two were selected on the basis of their performance on that test to receive the scholarships. Jamie Lyon (twin brother of Laurie Lyon whom I had dated) and myself won the honors. I was shocked, excited, and scared by this amazing opportunity. But that was all short-lived when my father wouldn't let me accept the scholarship. I don't want to be critical of my Dad because I honestly felt he made that decision for very valid reasons. His main concern was for the welfare of my mom. I was pretty much the only help she had since Claire was married, Georgia working, and J.D. only ten years old. He knew that with the additional travel time to and from school, needed time in a library to do work, (no computers with internet), plus the time that would be required to do homework, I would have very little time to help with the needed work around home. And besides, he never felt the higher education was that important, especially for girls. Although I know Mom was always interested in higher education and even seemed excited about this opportunity, she would never oppose my dad. She never did. What he said was the final decision. She tried to soften my disappointment by accenting the things I would miss by giving up my senior year in high school such as Senior Prom (I never went), graduating from Seminary, being able to participate in high school graduation ceremonies with my friends whom I had known for twelve years, etc. I didn't want to argue, either, because I knew it would only have made Mom feel more guilty for being the main cause of Dad's objections. She often expressed her sadness and feelings of guilt for not being able to be the kind of mother she wanted to be.

So I went on to complete my senior year.

Spiritual Feast

My, how with age comes increased knowledge and understanding, increased faith in and testimony of the Savior and His restored church, and an increased desire to learn at the feet of God's chosen prophets, seers and revelators. As I listened to the sessions of general conference this weekend, my thoughts drifted back to my early childhood and up to my teen years. I hated those conference weekends. It meant spending hours sitting on the couch, listening to "boring" talks on the radio which I couldn't understand nor appreciate no matter how many times my mom told us kids what a privilege it was to be instructed by living prophets. I could tell that SHE was drinking in every word but not me. I'm sure she hoped that at least we could feel the Spirit as these men spoke if we couldn't understand the words, but I didn't. On occasion, especially when we got a little older, Dad would take us down to the temple grounds for one or more of the conference sessions, and if we got there early enough we were even able to get inside the tabernacle. I admit that I really enjoyed that a whole lot more because you could actually see the speakers and the tabernacle choir as they sang, and I have to admit that I could even feel a special spirit that was there. I remember standing and singing, "We Thank Thee O God for A Prophet, as the prophet entered the building. That's when I really felt something very special. There was even a very spiritual feeling that permeated the beautifully manicured temple grounds during conference sessions. I loved being there.

When I started seminary in high school, my understanding and testimony of the gospel increased and I became more interested in what the leaders had to say, and I listened more carefully to conference talks. I have to admit, however, that I still would often fall asleep. Maybe being able to wear pajamas while I listened had something to do with it. And although television had been invented, only the more wealthy could afford it. That excluded us, so we still had to listen on the radio. Once in a while a group of friends would get together and go to the tabernacle to attend conference. I remember going with Jim several times.

As I listened this week to these special spiritual men and women speak, it struck me as to how fast the time went. I didn 't want the sessions to end. I felt so uplifted, my soul so spiritually fed and enlightened. The Spirit so strongly confirmed the truthfulness of the words they spoke, and I felt such gratitude to my Father and to Jesus Christ for giving me the opportunity to hear and accept the gospel. I also felt a debt of gratitude to my progenitors who received this message and remained faithful, giving me the opportunity to be born under the covenant. Although we all at some time have to gain a testimony of our own, I feel they gave me a head start by making it possible for me to grow up in a gospel centered home. I know now how my mother felt when she tried to help us feel the importance of listening to those "boring" talks.

As I tried to remember all of the prophets that I have been privileged to hear over the years, I remember at least nine beginning with Heber J. Grant. That was the first one that I remember. The others were George Albert Smith, David O. McKay, Joseph Fielding Smith, Harold B. Lee, Ezra Taft Benson, Spencer W. Kimball, Howard W. Hunter, and Gordon B. Hinckley. I don't know if they are in the right order or if I left one out. Ask your Primary kids. They will know.

I want all of you to know how much I love the Lord...how much He has blessed me over the years. I stand in awe at the love and peace he has brought into my life and to lives of my family. I have a renewed desire to serve Him and to remain faithful to the covenants I have made. May this be your goal, too. I love you all.

The Flame Begins to Flicker

The trip to California on a Greyhound bus seemed long and boring. There was really no one to talk to because I was traveling alone and no one interesting occupied the seat next to me. Christmas with my family had been special as usual, but the "high" of preparing for and celebrating on that day was beginning to wear off. But I was excited about taking my first trip to California, Walnut Creek in northern California, even if it was by myself. And I was anxious to see Nick and his family again. They had invited me to come down during Christmas break, and I had saved my money so I could go. Looking back I can't believe my parents would even consider letting me travel alone at age fifteen.

The first thing that struck me when I arrived at the Snel house was the Christmas tree. It was not very large, but what seemed strange to me was the type of tree it was. I had never seen one like it before. It was one of those that had a single ring of branches around the trunk, then a space of bare trunk and then another ring of branches. etc. etc. I don't know the name of that kind of pine tree, but to me it looked so bare and ugly. I thought, "they must really be struggling financially not to be able to buy a nice tree." I've since found out that this style of tree is not necessarily cheap, just different, and I guess some people like them.

I actually don't remember a whole lot about what we did while I was there. I know that Nick was working at a theater as an usher. Back then movie theaters actually had ushers that used flashlights to usher patrons to their seats. No more! I remember that he gave me a set of dishes that he had won in some incentive program at his work and a record (no CDs or tapes back then) of Mario Lanza, my favorite singer who was also an actor. He sang light opera and performed in several movies before he died at a young age. What I remember most was that I just didn't have that good a time...the spark just wasn't there anymore. When I got back home I gave the dishes away, but I did listen to the record a lot. I still like Mario Lanza.

Eventually I quit writing, and so did he. When Jim saw that I was dating other guys, he asked me out more often, usually to group activities. We would go to the drive-in movies with friends (one time we drove our car in backwards and told the man at the ticket booth that we were just going out. He laughed and let us in free), play "tag" in cars (we only did that once because we were almost in an accident. Jim was driving...very dangerous play), to seminary parties at Saratoga Springs (a favorite resort and swimming pool), to parties of mutual friends and church firesides. During one fireside in January it snowed so hard that all the cars were snowed in. No one could get out, so everyone there had to spend the night. That turned out to be a fun night. We had a lot of common friends because we all attended church together. Some of those mutual friends were Leah Rae Green after whom our own Lea was named, and the Maxfield triplets, Merrill, Dick and Geniel. He was best friends with Dick and Merrill while Geniel was one of mine.

I always had fun when I went out with Jim, even though he was a little wild when he was a teenager. He used to see how fast he could drive to Brigham City (sometimes cutting school) to see a girl he knew there. I was never went with him on those trips, however, but he would let me know when he had set a new record. I wasn't impressed. I thought he was pretty stupid to risk getting a ticket or losing his life. I wasn't with him either when he rolled the car one night while driving down a canyon road. Fortunately he wasn't hurt, but the car didn't fare so well. There were times when I thought I should just wait a while to date him until he grew up a bit. Our off and on dates continued into my junior year. You can tell that nothing serious was developing by his entry in my yearbook.
"Jonita (no dear),
Writing in your book brings back a lot of pleasant memories dating about three
years. We had a lot of fun and it was great knowing you and your whole family.
Well, I'll be seeing you around. Best wishes in the future.
As always,
Jim Mortensen"

Jim was then a senior and was planning to join the Air Force, so I knew I wouldn't be seeing him for a while. That made me a little sad, but I was still young, and there was still time.

A Day at the Bakery

I worked my first two years in high school at Dunford Bakery in Sugarhouse. That chain still exists today. If you can picture a waitress in a restaurant in the early fifties, that would be how we had to dress...stiff white dress with maroon cuffs and collar and a little maroon head piece. The uniforms were provided but kept at the store. So we had to change when we went to work.

My first assignment was as the "cookie girl". It was my responsibility to fill all of the cookie orders that came in each day and keep the front counters stocked with fresh cookies. Back in those days there were no bakeries in the grocery stores (we didn't have super markets, only grocery stores) so bakery provided wooden boxes with glass fronts to hold cookies which they could order. It was my job to fill those orders. The favorite cookie was date nut. After filling all the orders I would then take the rest of the freshly baked cookies (racks and racks of them) off the cooking trays and arrange them on trays to be put out in the display cases. When all this was done I could go home. I enjoyed my work unless it was a day that they baked chocolate cream filled cookies, about once a week. Besides my regular work, it was my job to fill all of those cookies with vanilla icing by squeezing it on one wafer and topping it with another. It was very time consuming which meant longer working hours on that day. If I had a lot of homework on those days it was very stressful.

Later on I was taught how to wait on customers out in front. That was a lot more fun. We used a regular old cash register which didn't figure out change like the computers today. So we had to use our own math skills to make correct change...something that I find younger clerks today just cannot do. I laugh quietly inside when I see them get so confused when you give them extra bills or coins so you won't get back a lot of one dollar bills. I think you know what I mean. We had to operate a bread slicer to cut whole loaves of bread. It could be a little dangerous if you weren' t careful. The new ones I've seen today are a lot safer. On days when my eczema kicked up, they would find work for me to do in the back as I'm sure customers who would see my inflamed skin would have some concerns. I'll always appreciate the manager of that store making accommodations so I could work. My salary started at $.75 an hour and worked up to $1.00 an hour.

The best part of my job was that we were allowed to eat anything we wanted as long as it was on our own time. I only took about a week before I could hardly stand the sight of all that sugar. I admit I gorged that first week, but hardly ate anything after that except hot bread right out of the oven slathered with lots of real butter that we also sold in the store. I think our boss knew the wisdom of his "eat all you want" philosophy. Employees and their families were able to buy products t 50% off, which was a nice bonus that my mom appreciated. While working there I actually bought a musical wedding cake topper that I saved for five years until it finally found its' place on our wedding cake.

Working at Dunford Bakery still brings fond memories. I worked there for two years, then quit working during my senior year. Mother's health was deteriorating and she needed more of my help since Claire was married and Georgia was working full time. I feel there is great value in young people working and paying their own way as much as possible. I know it was the case for me.

A Haunting Day in My Life

I have heard and read that when writing about your life you should not just include the things that make you look good. You should include the less than positive experiences that will make the reader know that you were human, that you made mistakes, and that hopefully you learned from those mistakes. I've mentioned several of those mistakes already, but I want to include an experience that I had at this point in my life that I will always remember with regret.

I had been taking cello lessons from an older man from a foreign country (I don't know which one but it could have been Germany because of the accent.) He lived alone on the northwest part of town in an old, old, dreary dark house. I really didn't enjoy going there, but he was an excellent player, but not that good a teacher. He was first cellist in the Utah Symphony Orchestra and seemed to have little patience for us less talented and less committed students. And he had a dislike for Mormons as I discovered one day when he began talking very negatively about the Church and its' members during my lesson. Then he turned to me and said, "You're not one of them are you?" Instead of standing tall and defending my beliefs, I began making excuses like, "Well, my parents are Mormons so I didn't have a say in where I went to church"...or something like that. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I began to feel terrible, but still wasn't valiant enough to correct what I had said. Although I was just fifteen, I did have a growing testimony of the church thanks to the teachings and strong testimonies of my mom and dad. Had I personally studied and prayed for a testimony of my own? Not really...not yet. I think I felt like the apostle Peter must have felt after denying Christ three times. And here in a different but similar circumstance I was doing the same thing. My thoughts also went to the prophet Joseph Smith who at the age of fourteen was spiritually mature enough to be permitted to actually see and talk to the Father and the Son. He had studied and inquired of the Lord for answers to his questions. He had paid the price at the age of fourteen. I will never forget how I felt that day. But the positive thing that came from this experience was that committed that day to pay the price to get my own personal conviction of the truthfulness of the restored gospel and not to depend so heavily on the testimony of my parents, especially my mother.

I continued to take lessons for a short while until one day as I was on the bus on the way to my lesson when I had a strong impression not to go. I got off the bus to make a transfer as I had always done when that strong feeling came again not to get on the next bus but to go back home. At this point I listened and obeyed and never went back. I don't know what would have happened if I had ignored that prompting and never will. But knowing the spirit that I had felt while in that home taking lessons, I knew the Lord was warning me of some impending danger if I continued to go.

Once again I reflected on my patriarchal blessing and its' promise that I would be "protected from evil designing men and women" all the days of my life. I truly believe that it was the Lord keeping His promise to me that day. And as I thanked Him that night in my prayers, I had a feeling of great peace knowing that He still loved me and had forgiven me.

My Sophomore Year

Although I was still a little apprehensive about starting high school, my sister, Georgia, had prepared me somewhat as to what to expect. She was a senior this year, as would have been my sister, Claire, had she not gotten married that summer. Claire was a year older than Georgia, but had been held back a year in elementary school. She married a returned missionary whom she
had dated a few times before his mission. (I had been a bridesmaid.)

I enjoyed my classes, especially art and orchestra. The arts department at Granite was exceptional. They put on a class A musical production every year which involved the students in the art department painting all the scenery and the music department providing all the vocal and instrumental music. There was SO much talent at that school! This year's production was "Song of Norway", the life of Edvard Grieg. Because I was in the orchestra we practiced the music for months, and how I loved it. But because I had begun to work after school, I was unable to be at all the practices so I wasn't allowed to play for the actual performances. But I did volunteer to usher so I could just be there each night and listen to that beautiful music. I give credit to the music department, especially the orchestra for developing in me a love for classical and semi-classical music.

Just a few months after starting school, I was able to get a job at Dunford Bakery in Sugarhouse where my sister, Georgia also worked. With a work permit, fifteen year old students were allowed to work. (I was fifteen) Permits were issued by the school dependent on
having and maintaining good grades. On the days that I worked I would take the public bus to work and to home afterward. I was now expected to buy all my own clothes and pay all my own expenses. That was OK with me as it gave me a feeling of maturity and independence which all teens want. It also gave me valuable experience in managing money, setting goals, and establishing priorities.

Did I have a favorite teacher that year? Yes. It was Mrs. Hollingsworth who taught American History. I loved her philosophy of teaching. It seems that she had a personal relationship with every student. Each one felt that they were the most important...that she really cared about you. I think what I like the most was that she never failed anyone on a test. She believed and often stated that the things you miss on a test are the things that you will most likely always remember. Tests were a teaching tool for her, so she would always give you a second chance to pass it. With my last "boyfriend", Nick, in California and with no "going steady" commitments, I actually went on a few dates that Sophomore year. To mention a few and the outcomes:

• Laurence (Laurie) Lyon - ( If you look, you will see his name as a composer or arranger of some of the hymns in our LDS hymnbook.) Knew him since grade school. Took me to a movie on a bus...too young (15) to drive. Had wandering hands. Never dated him again.
• Warren Burton - Fellow cello player in the orchestra. From a well known musical family at the time. Several OK dates. Invited me to his home for dinner one Sunday. Mom left to run errand. Asked us to watch rolls in oven. Rolls burned. Never dated again.
• "Tooele" guy - Can't remember his name or how I met him since he was from Tooele. Asked if he could come see me on Sunday. (First "date") Totally forgot he was coming. Went for a drive but ended up at a movie. Yes, it was Sunday. Felt so guilty that I let him talk me into going that I didn't ever want to see him again. (My parents never knew)
• My sweet Jim - When he saw I was dating other guys (he hated them all) he asked me to a Seminary dance at the Old Mill in East Mill Creek Canyon. The " Old Mill" was just that...an old lumber mill that had been restored and used as a reception or multi-use hall). Had a wonderful time! Drove me home from school several times after that and even let me drive the car even though I had never driven before. (Must have a great guardian angel...either him or me!)

Highlight and biggest disapointment of my Sophomore year was when our great basketball team played for the state championship at the University of Utah. I love sports and had gone to as many football and basketball games that I could. It was the most exciting game I have ever watched, but we lost in the last few seconds. I thought I would never get over that loss. This was MY team. It was the only time that any of our sports teams went to state finals while I was at Granite.

Boy, Have High Schools Changed!

My, have high schools changed! As I began reflecting on my high school years, and looking through my old year books, even I had to smile. In some ways they were definitely better, and in others the schools today have the edge. Let me begin by describing Granite High School, my alma mater. It was about four miles from home and was one of the oldest high schools in Salt Late, consisting of three major buildings. The "L" building (I'm not sure what the L stood for) was the original and oldest of the three. It had three stories of classrooms and a basement swimming pool. The "S" (science) building) housed science, English, foreign language, and art classes. It was two stories high. The newest and best of all the buildings was the Cultural Arts Bldg. and Gymnasium. The theater in this building was "state of the art" in that day. It had a large stage with fly tower, soft theater seats that were on a slope, and even a balcony where yearly performances of popular musicals were put on. This building also contained a large gymnasium for sports, and a smaller girl's gym. There were also classrooms for band and orchestra as well as a basement rooms which were used mostly for storage. Somewhere on campus was space for Home Economics (which included home nursing), auto mechanics, wood shop, business (typing and shorthand) and farm management. I never took any of these classes so I had no idea where they were.

There was no lack of clubs you could join if you had the time for extra curricular activities. There was Gamma Mu Sigma (math club), Pro Lita (literature club), Glee Club (vocal music), Language(French and Spanish), Drama, Commercial (business), Pep Club (Farmerettes), Music, Future Farmers of America, and Swim Club, just to mention a few. Needless to say I didn't have time for clubs until the Civil Air Patrol was introduced on campus in my junior year. I have always been interested in aviation, so I took a class in aeronautics and joined the CAP. More about that later.

We were furnished individual lockers, much like today, in which to store our coats and books. Lockers were inside all buildings, so you might have to run quite far to get to your locker if it was not in a building where most of your classes were. We didn't use backpacks to carry our books....I don't think they even existed back then. We just carried our books in our arms on top of our three ring binders. And yes, we had homework which required us to carry our books that way all the way home, even in the rain and snow.

Because we had three years in junior high school, I was fifteen when I began as a sophomore at Granite. Much like today my classes consisted of English, History, Math (Algebra), science and Seminary. I continued on with art and orchestra as my electives. You may wonder about that "Seminary" class. Yes, it was one of my classes. In Utah back then (maybe even today) we had released time from school to attend seminary. It was just like another class during the day. The Church had a seminary building with four classrooms across the street from the school. The classes taught during the three years were Old Testament, New Testament, and Church History...no Book of Mormon.

Competitive sports at our high school included football, basketball, baseball, tennis, track, golf, and skiing....boys teams only with the exception of skiing. There were no other sports in which girl's could compete unless you call cheerleading and Pep Club sports. Talk about discrimination!! But way back in the early fifties we hardly knew the meaning of that word. It was rarely used like it is today in demanding equal rights. I was never really concerned about so called "equal rights" for women (girls). I was happy just being who I was. I never felt deprived of anything.

This was probably a boring overview of my high school, but next I will share my personal experiences while there which I'm sure will be much more interesting.

And Then There Was Nick

As my three years in junior high school came to an end, I had for the first time a feeling of value and self-worth. That's what having a boyfriend did for me. He didn't care that I didn't wear Joyce shoes and Jantzen sweaters. He didn't care whether or not I was a good student (actually I was...almost a straight A). He didn't care that I lived in a rather modest home. He didn't care that I wasn't popular. He didn't even care that I still had trouble with skin allergies. He just liked me for who I was. And he actually thought I was pretty. That was the shocker. I always considered Claire the pretty one, and that I could never measure up to her. I had never had much self esteem up until now because my Dad was always quick to point out all my faults and never seemed to do the same with my strengths. I remember thinking that I never could do anything right or good enough. Don't get me wrong. He was a great dad, and I feel he honestly believed he was helping us to be better children by pointing out our weaknesses. That is needed, but there also needs to be positive feedback to help children with self-esteem. Children need to be "caught" doing something right and then told about it. Back then there just weren't the parenting and child psychology books and classes available, not that my dad would have read or taken them anyway. Now for the first time someone was making me feel good about myself other than my dog, Jiggers. My dad had kept his promise to get me a dog once we moved into our new house. We had to give up most of our animals when we sold our old house and Dad knew how much I loved those animals. Jiggers, a black and white,curly haired Australian Shepherd mix, loved me unconditionally and had been my best friend before Jim came along.

I graduated from Olympus in a pink organdy eyelet dress made by my mother. She even made me a pretty lace and ribbon-trimmed slip to go under it because you can see through organdy. I don't remember graduation being a big, deal. My parents attended the daytime ceremony, but that was the end of the celebration, and I was fine with that. I don't think graduation from junior high school was that important to anyone back then. We were more excited about just being out of school for the summer and not having to go back to the same old school in the fall.

That summer was very eventful for me. First of all I was earning enough money baby sitting and doing some "gathering" work (collating sets of duplicate and triplicate printed material which my dad brought home from work and for which he paid us $.50 an hour) to take cello lessons from the first cellist in the Utah Symphony. He was an older single man who lived on the northwest part of town. Since we lived on the southeast part of town, it was a long bus ride requiring several transfers to get to his home. It was difficult because I was carrying a large awkward instrument on and off those buses. But I felt it was worth it.

The biggest event of the summer for me was when Nico Snel (Nick) and his family moved in temporarily with the Mes family across the street. They had just moved to the U.S. from The Netherlands, and since the Mes's had been their sponsors to come to the states, they housed them until they could find a home and move to their final destination in Walnut Creek, Cal. Nick was fifteen and the oldest of three children. He was tall with dark, wavy hair, and played the violin very well. Because my father was Dutch, served a mission in Holland, and loved to speak the language, we immediately made friends with this family. We had them over for dinner and although the adults could speak English, most of the conversation at the table was in Dutch. Being bored, Nick and I would go into the living room and have our own conversation. He began showing an interest in me and my emerging ego got the best of me. I was flattered to think that now two young men really liked me. I must be OK. I must be likable. These were new concepts to me. As I said, I had pretty low self esteem. We spent quite a bit of time together that summer. We didn't actually go out on dates (no car...no money), but he would come over and we would go for walks and just talk. For my birthday he wrote a piece of music for me entitled "Jonita". No, I don't still have that music.

As you can well imagine, Jim was really hurt by my new interest. To this day he can't say anything nice about Nick. He was sure that my dad had influenced me to like him because he was Dutch, and that somehow that made him superior. Yes, my dad did like him, but he never pushed me in his direction. We had a common interest, music, and I enjoyed listening to him play. Although he tried hard to get me to play for him I was too intimidated by his skill. Compared to him, I was a novice, and I refused to make a fool of myself. Jim began dating other girls, many of them my close friends, and I was glad. I think it made me feel better to know that I hadn't "destroyed" his life. (What an ego I was developing). But it left me room to be humbled later on in my life.

Nick and his family moved to California in the fall when school began, but we kept in contact through letters, and if you can believe it, by parents let me go alone on a bus to California to visit him during Christmas break. Jim was furious! I guess he still liked me just a "little" bit. I would see him (Jim) quite often now because we went to the same high school and rode the same bus to get there. He was always polite and the perfect gentlemen, but the relationship had definitely changed.

My "prince" came along, and I didn't have to kiss a frog

It was Sunday morning towards the end of the summer of 1948. As usual my family were at Church to attend Sunday School. Back then Sunday School and Priesthood meeting were held Sunday morning. Then we would go home and return later in the afternoon or early evening for Sacrament Meeting. The auxiliary organizations (Primary and Relief Society) were held during the week. That Sunday, which I remember very well, we were singing the opening song at the beginning of the Sunday School meeting (everyone met together first for opening exercises) when the chapel door opened and I turned around to see who was coming in late. The first to enter was a handsome young man who I guessed was in his early twenties holding two small children by the hand. Following him were two other handsome young teens, the younger being the better looking...at least in my mind, a younger boy about ten, and a girl in her early teens. You can imagine the buzz that went on in our classes that day, at least among the girls. Who was this new family? Were they just visiting or had they moved into our ward? Where was the mother of all these children? How could the young man who was holding the hands of the two young children be old enough to be the father of these teen-age boys? We just couldn't figure it all out.

It turned out that this family had moved into the ward. Their last name was Mortensen, the boys (Jay, age 18, Jim, age 15, and Rey, age ten) and the girl (Elsie or "Lisa" age 13) were siblings of the oldest young man, Jesse, who was just 25. The little children (Jesse Jr. or "Butch" and Judy) were his children, and his wife, Jean had been ill that first Sunday so we didn't meet her until later. It was a while before we learned how they all came to be one happy family, but we really didn't care at that time. As young girls, what mattered to us was how we could win the attention of these younger "boys". The competition was on and the flirting began! The one I was interested in was Jim, the fifteen year old. I wanted nothing to do with "older" boys anymore. I had learned my lesson. Since I would be returning for my final year in Junior High School, and Jim would be in high school, the only contact I had was at church, and he wasn't in any of my classes. So it was just a "hi" and a smile as I passed him in the hall. When school started, I talked my sister, Georgia, into taking me with her to the first high school football game in hopes of at least seeing him, if not sitting close enough to strike up a conversation. It wasn't too difficult to convince her because she had shown an interest in the older brother, Jay, who was also attending high school. I worked!!! Somehow Jim and Jay found seats just behind us in the bleachers. Jim claims it wasn't by accident. He says that he and his brother saw us and made it a point to sit behind us because he had had his eye on me since the first time he saw me in church. I guess we were both a little shy. But that was the beginning of an off and on relationship that would end in a very long "on" (53 years and counting).

Yes, we did start dating even though I was just fourteen and Jim fifteen. He couldn't even drive, so we always double dated with his brother, Jay. Some of those dates were with my sister as Jay and she became good friends. Other times Jay dated a girl who lived down the street. He would drop Jim and me off at my house while he said "good-night" to his date. This could take anywhere from one to two hours. Jim would get so tired of waiting that often he would just run home, a distance of about a mile. He said he was afraid my dad would kill him if he saw how long he was there after a date.

We dated that whole year, always double, until February when Jim got his driver's license. Then we had a few dates on our own. I just want you to know that Jim was always good mannered and proper in every way, always opening doors, walking on the street side of a sidewalk, helping me with my coat, etc. He never made improper advances and didn't even kiss me good-night until we had been dating for about six months in spite of the fact that his sister-in-law, Jean, kept asking him "Did you kiss her yet?" after every date. It was really special when he finally did because it was my first kiss. It was in my garage, by the the back door, underneath a light that my parents left on when we were out on dates. I still remember all those details.

The highlight of that year of dating was when before attending an orchestra concert at my school (I'm sure it was a pure act of love to attend a concert at all), he presented me with my first corsage made of thirteen pink roses. It was huge! My shoulder was hardly big enough to hold it. I've never had one like that since. If I remember correctly, we were going to a dance after the concert.

We never considered that we were "going steady" at any time. We both knew that we had the freedom to date anyone else we chose. But I don't remember going out with anyone else that year, and I wasn't aware that Jim did either. But when summer came this young, egotistical, immature, teenager (me) decided to explore new waters when an opportunity presented itself. In a way it was good because I was too young and so was Jim to remain in a relationship that could only get more serious if it continued. However, at the time, this was not my motivation. It was only and ego trip I went on. Don't miss the next blog!

My First Crush

I had a beautiful blond sister, three years older than me, who attracted boys like ducks to water. When she was just fifteen or sixteen years old you could their eyes following her as she walked by. And it was not just the teenagers with raging hormones either. "Older" men, who I'm sure thought she was older, were known to start up a conversation and even flirt a bit with her at church. I being the age of twelve or thirteen at that time thought it was disgusting...that is until Wesley Bowen entered her life. He was from England, good-looking with dark wavy hair, and in his early twenties. I "fell in love". I loved his English accent, his impeccable manners, his friendliness to little sisters and even the black sedan he drove. (I have no idea the make.)

Wes, as we called him, would come to the house really often, even on week days during the day. It never entered my mind to wonder what he did for a living that would allow him so much free time. To a more mature person this would have been a red flag...which only goes to show not only my immaturity (I was only twelve or thirteen. I WAS immature)) but the immaturity of my "old" sister. I remember walking home from the bus stop after school and praying that I would see that black car in the driveway of our new home. (We were still living in the basement at that time.) I would be so disappointed if it was not and so excited if it was.
I understood that this was my sister's friend, but I hoped and prayed he would still be around and available by the time I grew up. Claire, my sister, had so many boyfriends I knew she wouldn't mind giving this one up for me. Did I say prayed? Yes, I actually remember praying that Wes would wait for me to grow up so I could marry him. I said that prayer over and over.

Wes hung around for probably six to eight months and once even arranged a double date with one of his friends. I couldn't believe that he would risk a friendship by arranging a blind date with a thirteen year old. And I still can't believe my Mom would even consider letting me go. I guess she felt it was safe because my sister would be there and we would be going to a church dance - the annual formal Gold and Green Ball. Not only did I not own a formal, I didn't know how to dance. I'd never been to a dance before. We picked up a dress at Deseret Industries, the only resemblance to a formal being that it came to the floor. It was red and white striped cotton with a sweetheart neckline and puffed sleeves. Even my date was a little taken back by that dress. I remember him making a comment something like, "Is that considered formal dress in the United States?" (He also was from England.) I was so embarrassed. But not as embarrassed as I was later on when someone told me why my date was so shocked when in conversation I described someone as "queer". I could tell he was upset by my statement but I had no idea why, and he wouldn't explain. I was very young and even more naive. Even when it was explained that "queer" was a word connected with the gay community, I still had to ask questions. In my day that was a taboo subject and was never discussed openly. As you might expect, this was a disastrous first date. What were my parents thinking when they let me go?!!!! I wish they were alive to ask.

Wesley was the one who taught us (both my sisters and me) how to play Bridge. I think the only reason he included my sister, Georgia, and me was because a foursome was needed. I was used to playing games for fun, but to Wes it was very serious. He played to win, and if we made an unreasonable bid, he would get very upset...I mean REALLY upset. I don't remember much about how to play this game, but I do remember not having much fun because the man whom I "adored" ruined it by his win-win attitude and by his anger when we really didn't care. I began to see a whole different side of Wes that I really didn't like. My infatuation began to dwindle rapidly thanks to Bridge. And it wasn't long before I lost all interest...and so did my sister. She had met someone new, a nineteen year old who was getting ready to go on a mission. As for me, I was soon to meet someone else who would change my life forever.

And You Think You Invented the Snipe Hunt

As I heard and read of many of my granddaughter's girl's camp experiences this summer I was reminded of my own years as a member of the Church's Young Women's program. And yes, camping was part of the program even way back then. Having grown up in Utah, however, the Church owned their own campsite at Brighton in Big Cottonwood Canyon. If you're picturing a large area among big pine trees with individual camp areas with fire pits and cleared area for pitching tents, you are only half right. The area was beautiful with tall pines and a mountain view, but no tents. We "camped" in a large two story log lodge perched on the mountain side. We had rooms shared by four girls, bathrooms, dining hall, and an activity room with a large fireplace. It doesn't sound much like camping, does it? And it wasn't, really. We never learned outdoor camping skills like you do today. We never learned how to pitch a tent, cook over a fire, dig a latrine, live for a day on what you could carry in a backpack, administer first-aid, etc. What we were taught at camp was a love of nature and an appreciation for all of God's creations. So rather than going on long hikes, we would go on "nature walks" where we learned to identify different trees and plants, look for and enjoy the wild life in the mountains, watch an early morning sunrise and an evening sunset, and just learn to notice and appreciate the beauty of the world that surrounded us.

At night we would gather around a large outdoor campfire, sitting on logs that were permanently placed around it. There we learned and sang camp songs which I still remember today. In fact some of my children may remember my singing these songs to them when they were little. Do you remember: "The Cannibal King", "Red Wings", and "Snowball" (this one would probably not be permitted today because it would be considered a violation of race etiquette, but I thought it was very sweet)? These are the words. You be the judge.
"O, Mammy, Mammy, tell me...About those white folks 'chilluns'.
Why do they call me Snowball...When Snowball ain't my name.
My Mammy calls me Sugar Lump. My Pappy calls me Apple Dump.
O, Mammy, Mammy, aint it a shame...That Snowball ain't my name.
And, yes, we would tell ghost stories.

We had a lot of fun activities, too, at camp. It was the custom to take all first-year Beehives on a "Snipe" hunt at night. (And you thought it was your generation who invented the "Snipe Hunt"! Not so.) And it was here at Girl's Camp that I learned all about shy Brownies who leave treats on the trees for visitors to "their" mountains. As old as we were, we were taken on a Brownie Hike to gather the goodies. And we loved it. Brownie Hikes have since been a favorite of the children at Lake Lopez for many years. I loved doing them because it was so fun to see the faces of the little children as they saw trees with treats for the picking, and to hear them "swear" that they heard or even saw the Brownies watching them. We did it just this year.

I remember one year we had a pajama party at night in the activity room. We were told before we went to camp about this activity because they were going to have a pajama contest. I remember making my pajamas that year. They were yellow seersucker with bright colored flowers and trimmed with black ric rac (probably the only color we had at home). The top had cross-over flaps that tied in front leaving a little bit of the midriff bare. These would have been unacceptable by today's modesty standard, but nothing was said about that then. Believe me, if there had been rules against it, my mom would have been the first to say, "no way" and I in no way would have violated counsel. I think I won the prize for the "loudest' pajamas. And by making pajamas for the first time I learned how to make flat felled seams. Now those who don't sew or those that do and still don't know what these kind of seams are, look on the internet to find out. They are hardly used anymore.

Such were my experiences at girl's camp. I really think that the way the Church does it now gives girls much more valuable experience with practical skills as well as incorporating spiritual growth activities. But I think that this was the time of my life that I learned to love the out of doors, to appreciate the beauties of nature and to love all animal life. I still feel very close to God when I am alone in the mountains, or even in my own beautiful back yard looking up at the mountains behind us, or when a deer, or racoon, or even a skunk wanders into the yard eating my roses and tomatoes, or watching the California Jays taking a bath in the back yard fountain. I love this earth that God created for us, and I feel we are ungrateful children when we don't take care of it like we should. Take time to look around you when you feel unhappy or stressed and find joy in even the small evidences of God's love for his children.

Elephants and Forget-me-nots!

My three years in junior high school corresponded with my three years as a Beehive girl in the church YWMIA program. Those initials stood for "Young Women's Mutual Improvement Association". Although "Beehive" girls still exist in the program today, it was much different for us...much more involved, requiring three years to complete all the requirements to become an "Honor Bee". Not everyone achieved that rank because it was quite difficult to accomplish all that it required, but that was the goal. I will attempt to give a brief overview of the program as it existed back then, and how it affected me.

In some ways the program was structured like the Boy Scouts in that we had bandlos on which we placed various symbols and awards we had earned. (We even had a salute) But everything represented some part of the life and society of the bee, such as:

• A group of Beehive girls in a ward was called a "swarm"
• Their leader was the "beekeeper"
• First year girls were "builders" (builders of the hive)
• Second year girls "gatherers" (gatherers of the honey)
• Third year girls "guardians" (guardians of the hive)
• Beehive colors were blue (a bee's favorite color), brown and gold (the color of the bee)
• <>Awards earned in the first two years were called "cells" (where honey was stored) and "seals" (when a cell is filled with honey it is sealed over with wax). Third year girls earn "beelines". Etc., etc.

The emblem on the top of the bandlo was a beehive. A gold hexagon (cell) below the hive indicated rank of builder (first year), two blue violets at the side of the hive showed you as a gatherer, and a bee at the top of the hive indicated you were a guardian. There were seven "fields" or areas in which to earn awards (gather honey), each represented by a different color. These fields and colors were:
Religion - purple Arts and crafts - brown
Home - orange Business - gold
Health - red Public Service - red, white, and blue
Out-of-doors - green
Fourteen awards (two in each field) were required to complete each rank. The first two years these awards were represented by colored hexagons or cells on the bandlo, and the guardian awards were in the shape of elongated rectangle or "lines". To become an "Honor Bee" you had to complete fourteen additional awards in any field or fields of your choice. These could be earned anytime throughout the three years of Beehives. These were called Honor Badges and were large hexagons with pictures representing the field of endeavor in which they were earned I guess all of these requirements might be compared to the "Personal Progress" program today. We also had a "theme" or what we called "The Spirit of the Hive" which we memorized and repeated at each meeting much as you do the Young Women's Values today. It went like this:
"On my honor I will endeavor to live by the Spirit of the Hive.
Have faith, Seek Knowledge, Safeguard Health, Honor Womanhood, Understand Beauty,
Value Work, Love Truth, Taste the Sweetness of Service, Feel Joy."

There were two other symbols on our bandlos which I should mention, mainly because one of them had such a negative impact on my life. That may sound a little strange for a church program that was supposed to elevate youth and help them to grow. It really wasn't the intention of the program or of my parents to bring about the negative affect that it did, but a good lesson can be learned here. Let me explain. As we began the Beehive program, the class was to choose a "swarm" symbol which was to represent that for which the members wish to work as a group. Then we were to choose something to place on our bandlos to remind us of that goal. Our class chose increased spirituality, love, and purity. The symbol we chose was a Book of Mormon, and a red and white rose. That was fine and can see that symbol at the bottom of my bandlo. But we were also to select a personal symbol by making a list of qualities you see in others that you admire and choosing one that you would like to develop in yourself. Then we were to choose some symbol that would represent and remind us of this quality to place on our bandlos. Sounded good to me! I liked that idea. I had seen older girls with their symbols (usually some kind of flower) displayed prominently at the top of their bandlos where they were supposed to be. I remember thinking of some qualities, mostly of my mother's, that I really admired and was trying to think of a flower that would represent them. I was seriously thinking of a sweet pea because that was my mother's favorite flower, but was having trouble deciding on how to make one out of felt to put on my bandlo. Sweet peas aren't the easiest flower to duplicate. But that problem was solved when my dad told be that I what I really needed was something to remind me not to be so forgetful. I really don't remember being that forgetful, at least not unusually so for a child, but I guess my dad did. He suggested an elephant as a symbol (we all know that an elephant never forgets), and if I had to have flowers, what about forget-me-nots. He was not joking. So guess what is on my bandlo, right at the top in a prominent place? Yup. It's an elephant with two small forget-me-nots on each side. I hated it. Instead of reminding me of something positive to work towards it reminds me of what I guess is a negative quality in my character. At least my dad must have thought so. And at times in my life it has become an excuse for being that way, forgetful that is. I just must have been born that way.

And, by the way, I did become and Honor Bee!