First Day of Advent - 2008

Today I have been feeling somewhat nostalgic and, yes, a little melancholy. Although it's technically still November (November 30) it is the first day of advent, the four Sundays preceding the celebration of the birth of our Saviour, Jesus Christ. I remember when our children were still at home how I looked forward to those four Sunday evenings together when I could get away from the stresses of the holidays and focus on the real meaning of Christmas. It was a time when I could really feel those spiritual feelings that so easily escaped me during the busy week days as I struggled to get every other material need met for the family. Tonight I ached to have that same peaceful feeling that I had on those Advent Sundays years ago, but instead I find my mind racing with the thoughts of the things I still NEED to do and the things I would LIKE to before Christmas. The thought came to mind, "Why not?". Dad and I could spend these Sundays together reading about the Saviour. The New December issue of the Ensign is full of inspiring stories we could read together. We could turn off the lights and listen to Christmas music, and I could even make a Christmas dessert. Lighting a candle would be pushing it a bit with Jim. He was always a little paranoid about lighting candles in the house.

Today I put on some Christmas music and tonight we listened to a beautiful classical concert of three opera stars including Placido Domingo KCET. I know Jim doesn't particularly enjoy this kind of music, but he knows I do, and he made the sacrifice for me. As the concert concluded I felt it had set the mood (at least for me) to bring up the subject of spending the rest of the evening focused on the spirit of Christmas and of Christ even though I hadn't planned a special dessert. But when he began flipping through the channels to find something to watch and he picked "Monk" followed by the comment, "The Unit is on tonight", I knew it was over for me. He would probably have agreed to my suggestion, but I know he would have resented having to miss his favorite TV show and the spirit I wanted us both to feel would not be there.

It is sometimes difficult for me to understand how you can come home from church having been fed with spiritual food from the lessons, speakers, and partaking of the sacrament and then fill your home with violence, objectionable language and immorality coming from the TV. I just can't do it. So I find myself alone in my room on Sunday evenings reading or writing on this blog. I certainly don't want this to sound like a criticism of Jim. He is a wonderful loving person and is so good to me. I know he has a testimony of the gospel but just doesn't always see or feel things the way I do. And that's OK. But I have to be true to my own conscience.

So tonight after I finish this post I plan to play my Christmas music on my tape recorder here in my room, read the editorial in the December Ensign and from the scriptures as Jim did on those Advent Sundays, and maybe I'll even find a Christmas story that will make me cry. But I'll have to skip the dessert. Maybe next week.

I hope each of you, in your own way will make an effort to bring the spirit of Christmas into your own homes in whatever way it works for you. I know some of my children and grandchildren are celebrating Christmas this year by giving rather than receiving...a wonderful way to show your love of Christ and receive the spirit in your home. Maybe some of you are celebrating Advent with your children, or finding ways to include your children in sacrificing for others. Whatever you do, especially you moms, take time to rejuvenate your body and spirit by setting aside time to draw near to the Lord during this busy season. Ask yourself this question, "Does what I'm so busy doing really matter in the eternal scheme of things?" You'll find out that there are lot of things you can just let go.

My sweetheart just brought me in a cup of hot chocolate. How could you not just love that guy! Maybe I will go ask him to join me after all.

The Offer!!!

With graduation in sight we began fantasizing about being able to buy a home of our own. It turned out to be just that...a fantasy. But it was fun driving around looking for homes for sale. I only remember one that was really my "dream house". It was at top of one of the Avenues in Salt Lake. The "Avenues" were streets named "A", "B", "C" etc. which ran north from South Temple to the top of a steep hill. Once you reached the top you could look over the whole city. The view was spectacular. It was at the top of "I" St. that Jim formally proposed to me. I don't remember what letter street that this house was on, but maybe it was just nostalgia that made me like it so much. It was brick with three bedrooms, two bathrooms (a rarity back then) and a full finished basement. There was a passageway that went from the basement to a workshop under the garage. Jim really liked that. But we knew that even if Jim got one of the top job offers we could never afford the whopping $25,000 that the owners were asking. But it was nice to dream. And it never entered my mind that we would not live in Salt Lake forever.

Recruiters from companies all over the country came to the University of Utah to interview engineering graduates. I had never even heard of half the companies, but Jim was familiar with most of them...at least the bigger ones. He interviewed with many of the larger ones which he knew would pay the highest salaries, but was realistic enough to interview with the smaller ones as well. He didn't want to end up with no offers at all.

Offers began to come in to the students and it was no surprise that the top students got offers from the the big companies. They were very free at letting their competitors, fellow students, how much they had been offered. I have to think that Jim was a bit envious, that was until he received an offer from Hughes Aircraft Company, a very large company in Los Angeles. He could hardly believe what they were willing to pay him. It was the second highest offer of all the graduating engineers...$580 a month. It seems that they had taken into account all of his Air Force experience. And I like to believe that they also took into account the fact that he had gone through school while working and supporting a family.

I had mixed feelings about the offer. I could see how excited Jim was. He had worked so hard to reach this point and now all of his effort had been validated by this offer. I was glad for him. But I didn't want to move to California, especially to Los Angeles. I didn't like it much when I saw it on that first visit with Uncle LeGrande. And I remember Dad having nothing good to say about it when he returned to Salt Lake after Mother died. I voiced my concerns to Jim, but I could tell my words went right over his head. To this day I'm sure he would tell you that I was as excited as he was, but I really didn't want to leave "my home in the valley". I never said any more after he accepted the offer. He had earned the right to live wherever he felt he could best support his family. And I knew I could be happy anywhere as long as I had Jim and my family.

Where Do We Go for Help?

Jim's car accident was quite a blow, but we were thankful that he wasn't hurt and that it happened so close to graduation...we were only about two months away. We would soon have a livable salary (we hoped and prayed for a good job offer), and we would get caught up with all our bills. But then came another hard blow. The senior electrical engineering students were informed that they would be required to take a "field trip" to the bay area of California where a number of large electric companies such as IBM, Westinghouse, Hewlett Packard, General Electric, etc. were located. Today we call this area "Silicon Valley".

This trip was not optional. You either went or would not graduate. We were caught totally unawares. It wasn't any syllabus we had read, and the cost was $260. That paid for the bus and hotel, but eating would be additional. Then there was the fact that Jim would miss a week's work without pay. That would mean getting even farther behind on our bills. We figured we would need to have at least $500 to pay for the trip and to meet make up for lost work. It might just has well have been $5000 with no resources to come up with the money. My dad didn't have a lot of savings, and besides, my dad had never been too encouraging about any of us going on to college. His attitude had always been, "If you want an education you are going to have to pay for it." If he did loan us the money, he would make sure we felt guilty and obligated to him the rest of our lives. We didn't want that. As for Jesse and Jean, we knew that they had no savings and were struggling just to get by. They were always helping us in ways that they could...feeding us when our food money ran out, making clothes for the girls, and letting us charge gas to their account. But we knew that asking for financial help, regardless of how supportive they had been, would just be impossible for them. But where else could we go? It is so hard to ask for help when you have been trained all your life to be independent and self sufficient. Maybe we just needed to be humbled a bit and made to realize that all of God's children at one time or another need to ask for help. And if we don't ask, we are denying someone of the blessings that come from helping someone out. We would not be asking for a handout, only a loan until we got on our feet.

We fasted and prayed about what we should do. The answer came... my UNCLE KEN. He was my mom's younger brother who had always championed education even though he was never able to complete his own higher education. In spite of that he had been very successful in his business career. They lived in Ogden, as had we, right after we were married. He and Aunt Ina had been so good to us, encouraging us to go on to school when we got out of the military.
They had had us over to dinner often, and it was Aunt Ina who taught me how to make the famous orange rolls. I just knew they would understand and be supportive.

It was very hard for me to get up the courage to ask, but when I did, it was without hesitation that he wrote out a check. I can't tell you the gratitude (and the relief) that I felt and still feel.
Uncle Ken has since passed away, but Aunt Ina is still with us.

Jim went on that required trip, I stayed home with the girls, and all the bills got paid that month. When he returned home it was time to begin the interviews with recruiters who were now beginning to look for new competent employees for their companies. How would Jim measure up to the standards and requirements for available jobs. He knew that grades were not his strong point...adequate, but definitely not in the top ten percent. Would his other strengths and experience compensate for top grades? He could only wait and see.

An apology

So sorry it has been so long since you've heard from me on this blog...especially since I left you "hanging". I could take the time to give you all of my excuses, but I'm sure that would be very boring. On second thought, this might be a good time to at least explain part of the problem. It would come up later, anyway a little later in my life story.

Some of you who know me may be aware that I "suffer" from clinical depression. I have had periods of depression for most of my life, but wasn't diagnosed until later in my life when those dark episodes came more often and lasted longer. I mentioned it once to my doctor when I heard about Prozac which was touted as THE drug to combat depression. It didn't work for me, so I figured I must just be moody or a little crazy, not depressed. After all, I didn't have any real reason to be depressed. I had a wonderful loving husband, a great family and no major problems...just the normal everyday stresses that are a part of every one's daily life. And the only medication that I was aware of for the treatment of depression didn't work. So I went on with my life.

It wasn't until Jeanie who at the time was a married adult with children began to have some major stress in her life and was diagnosed with clinical depression. She had been wise enough to seek help, and it was through her that I learned that there are many medications to help people like me. People with "clinical" depression lack certain chemicals in the brain that produce the feeling of well being. The chemical or chemicals that are missing can vary in different diagnosed sufferers. There is no test to determine which chemical is the culprit. So it is only by trial and error with all the different medications out there until it is determined which one will work for you. I sought out the help of a psychiatrist and it took trying three different drugs before she came up with one that worked for me. What a difference that and counseling made in my life!!!

Now, why am I telling you all this? And what has this to do with the drought of my creative writing? In counseling I was told to avoid as much stress in my life as possible. My counselor told me that stress is the real enemy of people with clinical depression...even if they are on meds. Too much of it can trigger an episode. Well, over the period of two weeks I had at five very stressful events occur, which caused me to have a minor "melt down". I could have handled one or two events and been OK. But five put me over the edge, and before I could fully recover, I have been through the stress of Jim's surgery. When I'm in one of these "downers" my brain has no desire to think or remember. Consequently, no writing. I'm OK now...not all the way there yet, but at least here I am at the computer. That is a good sign.

I know in the last blog I kind of left you hanging. I promise that I will get you off that rope this week, hopefully tomorrow. But for now I want to give you all some advice. Never feel guilty for getting help with mental problems. For so long there has been such a stigma bout seeing a psychiatrist that few sought their help. And if they did they kept hush, hush about it because they were afraid people would think they were crazy. The best analogy I have heard is that if you were diabetic you would have no trouble getting to a doctor to get insulin. It is the same for people who lack other chemicals in other organs of the body. Many people who suffer from depression are able to get off medication after a while. Others will have to take it all their life. I am one of these. But I have promised myself that I would never hesitate to reveal my problem, and I would be an advocate for those with mental health issues. So far I think I hve done that.

Things Get Tough(er)

Life was indeed more difficult for me with three little ones to care for. Walks to the park became less and less. It was just too much work. And even necessary trips to the grocery store were an ordeal rather than a welcomed excuse to get out of the house. Going to church was even worse on the Sundays that Jim had to work. Trying to keep a three-year old, a two-year old, and a baby quiet and under control was nearly impossible. You would think in a ward of predominantly older people there would be "grandmas" who would love to hold a baby or entertain a toddler. But sad to say, I don't remember even once anyone offering to help me out. I dreaded going to church, but I did. And somehow I even managed to do my visiting teaching...dragging along my three little girls. I 'm not so sure the sisters appreciated my visits, rightly so.

The thing that would make me quit feeling sorry for myself was to wonder how it would feel to change places with Jim. How would I like to be under the pressure he must be feeling trying to keep up with his demanding work schedule while trying to do well in school? Now in his senior year the classes were extremely difficult and competitive because only the best of the best remained in the program. Soon interviewers would be coming to the school to recruit the best graduates for the higher paying jobs. And he knew grades counted a lot. As I thought about all of these things I was grateful for my job of being a mom and a loyal supporter of loving companion who was going through all of this for us, his family, so that we would have a better life. His sacrifice was so much more than mine.

This last semester was probably the most challenging of all. First, Jim was in a car accident on the way home from work one night. Someone ran a red light and broadsided him, totalling the car... our only car. The car had to be towed and the officers who came to the scene wouldn't even give Jim a ride, so he had to walk about five miles home at midnight. I was worried sick wondering why he was so late getting home. I always waited up for him. In our prayers that night we sincerely expressed our gratitude for His protecting Jim from serious injury. We would leave worrying about what to do about transportation until morning.

Thankfully, the car was pretty old and probably due to break down at anytime, anyway. And the insurance money, though not much, gave us a down payment on a "new" used car...a red Buick. But now we had a car payment to make. That was not in our meager budget. So I began rotating other monthly payments, slipping a different one each month in order to make the payment. I figured that it would only be a few more months until we would have a real job with a "big" income and could catch everything up before collectors started knocking. We had no other choice. Jim HAD to have a car for school and work. And then.....

And Then There Were Three

Since I got off my story line in my last blog, I'm sure you wondering if Jim and I ever resolved the problem with my dad. I have to admit that it was Dad that made the first step by having my brother deliver a bushel of peaches to my door a few weeks later. Many nowadays don't even know how much a bushel is. It is a lot! Since few people can fruit anymore, they by fruit by the pound or, at most, a "lug" or peck. A bushel is four times that amount. My dad had a peach orchard so he graciously gave us free fruit to can each year and we were grateful. But this year in the heat of a Utah August, living in an upstairs apartment with no air conditioning, and being eight and half months pregnant I wasn't so grateful. I know he meant well, and I appreciated this sign of reconciliation but I could hardly face the idea of having to can all those peaches in the heat with two little toddlers running around. I wanted to cry. But instead, I called Dad and thanked him, trying very hard to sound sincere. Nothing was said about the problem we had had, and he never did apologize. I never suspected that he would because he had always been a proud man, needing to feel right in order to have the respect of his children. That would change in his later years. But for now we just decided to let bygones be bygones and move on.

I gave away as many peaches as I could to our landlady and to Jesse and Jean, but they only wanted enough to eat, not can. The words of my mother kept passing through my mind as I tried to find some excuse to just let the fruit sit and rot. "God expects us to use the resources he has provided for us wisely. Waste is not acceptable in His eyes." So I got out my canner, washed and sterilized dozens of bottles, filled the sink with boiling water to slip the skins off the peaches, and began cutting the fruit into the sugar water in each bottle. I don't remember how many quarts I filled that day, but it took "forever" as my canner would only hold seven quarts at a time. I do remember feeling so hot and so tired as I lifted that last seven quarts of peaches out of the steaming water that I just wanted to die. But I also remember the feeling of accomplishment as I looked at all those quarts of beautiful yellow fruit sitting on the counter the next day. I just left them there the rest of the week so I could admire them.

On September 11, another beautiful little girl was born into our family. Weighing in at eight and half pounds, this baby was definitely her Daddy's girl...black hair, dark skin (actually very red at first) and dark brown eyes. Jim insists that I apologized to him for having another girl, but I can't imagine my ever saying that. Neither of us had ever said that we hoped for a boy. And Jim really loved those two little girls. I knew he would fall in love with this one, too, as I had done the first time she was placed in my arms. I remember thinking to myself as I looked at her that I could put her in a cradle board, strap her to a "Squaw", and nobody would even question that she was and Indian baby.

Needless to say my life was a little crazy for a while with two in diapers. I knew I would have to get serious about potty training Debbie. She hadn't been too cooperative in the past, but now I was not going to give her a choice. Doing laundry became even more difficult trying to shuffle three children up and down all those stairs. I knew the first thing I was going to buy when Jim graduated in the spring and got a "real" job was an automatic washer. It was harder for me to get out of the house because I didn't have a stroller...only that "buggy". Jeanie and Debbie had to walk wherever we went, and that was hard for a two and three year-old. But we could now see the end of the tunnel with only one more semester to go. We were both ready for our school days to end and begin life with a "together" family.

Perfectionist?

I'm sure that you along with me I grew up with the old adage, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well". I know my parents quoted that to me very often, and I grew up believing it. My parents didn't lie. Then many years later at Jeanie's graduation from college, the commencement speaker gave a talk part of which has stayed with me until this time. How unlikely is that for a usually long and boring speech? In fact, I was so impressed that a I sent away for the talk. The part that I remember and that made me begin rethinking my initial view was when he said: "Not everything you do should require your best effort", and then he began elaborating as to why. His reasoning made a lot of sense to me. He said that we need to prioritize by importance what should require our best efforts and what should not. Not everything that is worth putting forth our best efforts. But how do we differentiate between the two? Those who have to do everything perfectly suffer from a lot of anxiety and stress which is common among those "perfectionists". They are not usually happy people.

This month our Relief Society and Young Women undertook a humanitarian project making T-shirt dresses for little girls in Africa. The sisters and girls were excited and totally supportive of this project. They donated enough T-shirts and fabric to make a total of eighty-two dresses. We were unable to finish all the dresses in one night of sewing, so the sisters took the rest home. Because I was in charge of this project, all the dresses were returned to me. Most of the sisters did a beautiful job sewing the dresses, but there were some which obviously had been done very sloppily without much care. That really bothered me, because one of those sewers bragged about she had been sewing since she was fourteen and was now even selling some of her work on line. It seemed obvious to me that she didn't feel the dresses for these destitute children were of enough importance to give them her best efforts. In fact, I heard her say, "The children will be so grateful just to have a new dress that they won't really care if the sewing isn't perfect". Her work didn't even come close to perfect.

As I sat ripping out the work of that sister and remaking those ten dresses I thought to myself, "Am I such a perfectionist that I need these dresses to be at least as well made as those I would make for my own family? Maybe this sister is right. The children won't really care. I should just appreciate the fact that she was willing to take dresses home to finish. Is it just the perfectionist in that makes me sit here hour after hour redoing all of her work? I am aware that I have always been one of those (a perfectionist) but have since that graduation talk tried to evaluate how much time and effort a task is worth giving. And I also realize that as I get older I tend to slip backwards in my effort to make rational decisions. I enjoy having a neat, clean, organized home because now without children in the home, I can. But that really isn't that important when I consider how easy it can become an obsession in that there are days that I am too tired to do the work and stress about letting it go. That is just one example.

In my own mind this project was important enough to me to give it my best efforts. And I did. But I also had to redo those that were really bad. Was this something that was worth doing, but not worth the extra time and effort I put into it. Or am I just a hopeless obsessive perfectionist?

The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Ugly

The second semester of Jim's third year had just begun. He was enjoying this year because he was well into his major, electrical engineering. He was already familiar with much of the material he was now studying because of his four years of training and experience in the Air Force. However, of the 250 students who were accepted into the Electrical Engineering Department with Jim, less than 100 remained...and they were the very smart ones. So there was a lot of competition for grades. Only 63 actually graduated.

It was in February of that year (1957) that I woke up each morning not feeling too well. I was pretty familiar with that symptom, so when the doctor told me I was pregnant, I was not too surprised...just a little concerned about how we were going to pay for another baby. I was excited, too. Just the thought of God trusting me with another of his special spirits brought a lot of joy to my heart. And the most wonderful thing was that Jim was happy, too. He didn't seem concerned that another mouth to feed would be a burden. If he was, he surely didn't show it. He was more concerned that my breathing problems had become worse and felt it was time for me to see a specialist. Reluctantly, I agreed.

The news wasn't good. The doctor said he had never seen a nose as bad as mine. Not only did I have huge polyps in both nostrils, but the septum (the cartilage that separates the nostrils) had at some time been broken and was also preventing air from going through my nose. Surgery took care of both problems and for the first time that I could remember air could pass through my nose. It was the strangest feeling I had ever felt. It was as if I had holes in my head and air was rushing through. It took a while for me to get used to it. How we ever paid for that surgery I don't remember, but I only know it was worth it.

I was still recovering from the surgery when my little brother (not so little any more) came to us to see if he could borrow a small amount of money. He had graduated from high school and had been working during the summer so he could start college in the fall. He needed to register and pay his tuition, but he was short a little bit. You may wonder why he didn't go to my dad who, for sure, had more money than us. First of all, he hadn't had a very good relationship with Dad and Teun (his new wife) during those difficult teenage years and second, Dad was not big on higher education. He just didn't feel it was necessary if you were willing to work hard. And if you wanted an education...fine, but it would be with no help from him. On the other hand, Jim and I felt education was really important so we gave him the money. I don't have a clue how we came up with it, but we did. The result of that decision ruined the rest of my summer.

A few days after giving J.D. the money my dad called me. He was furious! He yelled at me, swore at me, and told me to mind my own business...which didn't include my brother. I was devastated and called Jim at work just sobbing. Jim tried to calm me down on the phone by assuring me that Dad didn't mean what he had said, but I could tell he was really upset. About an hour later my Dad called again, and all he said was, "Well, your husband just said I couldn't talk to you anymore, so this is the last time you'll hear from me." And he hung up. Now I was a basket case as I called Jim to find out what had happened. I sensed correctly that he had been upset by what I had told him. Actually, "upset" was too mild a word. He was downright angry, and even though he was only twenty-four years old at the time, he was ready to take on his father-in-law without hesitation. He had called my dad back and told him in no uncertain terms to never talk to me like that again. And if he called me again it had better be with an apology. Obviously when my dad called me again it definitely was not with an apology. It was "I'll never talk to you again." Even though it was quite a while before he did, I think on that day Dad acquired a lot of respect for Jim. Just to know that his daughter had a husband who would stand up for her and protect her had to be a comfort. I think it would have been a comfort to any father.



.

We're Halfway There

We had reached the half-way mark of Jim's college education and we knew now that we could finish. We both had the determination not to quit no matter how difficult the challenges would become. I know I have talked about some of the difficulties I faced, but I know Jim probably faced even more even though he never complained. Someday I hope I can convince him to write about his own thoughts and feelings at this time. As I look back, I don't know how he did all that he did to support the family, do all the school work that was required, and still remain sane...and maintain a positive attitude.

Did I help Jim with his homework to take away some of the pressure? Only once. It must have been in his freshman year when he had to take an English class. English is usually not a male's favorite class, and it certainly wasn't Jim's. But it was required so he struggled through it. But when he was required to read the book "Billy Bud" and write a themed report on it, he just didn't have the time or the writing skills (so he thought) to finish this project. Even though I had never read the book, he asked me to help him. He hadn't read the whole book either, so we just skimmed over it together, shared ideas about we thought the theme was, and I wrote the paper. He was thrilled to get a "B" on the paper, and frankly, so was I. After that, things just got to technical in all of his class so I wouldn't have been able to help him if he asked. But he never did.

Some memories of that that third year in school include:

• Jeanie's love for her new little sister. She constantly piled her toys on top her when she was awake.
• Jim's first display of his creative ability when he turned an old army bunk bed (one he slept in as a teen) into a bed when Debbie got too big for the cradle and needed Jean's crib. He made a padded head board that was curved and scalloped to make it more "girlish".
• Jeanie getting so lethargic and just lying around on the floor. We took her to the doctor because we thought she was ill only to discover that it was because she missed her daddy. His schedule had changed and he was not longer able to come home for lunch at noon when he would always play with her for a few minutes. The doctor assured us that children were very versatile and quick to adjust to new situations, and Jeanie did. She was soon back to her old happy self.
• Going to church alone when Jim had to work. It was no fun juggling two little ones by myself. No one seemed to notice my struggles nor offered to help.
• Working as a member of the "Homemaking Board" of Relief Society where we did a lot of crafts back then. I had to come up with a ideas and then implement them. It was so difficult because it required that I purchase materials ahead of time and I just didn't have the money or the transportation to be able to do that. Sisters would pay back the money at the activity (sometimes) but I just didn't have the money to put out up front.
• Working in the nursery during Relief Society, a paid position, to bring in a little extra money. R.S. was held on a week day.
• A once-in-while treat of a Dairy Queen sundae when Jim had a rare night off.
• A New Year's Eve "celebration" when Jim returned home from work. I wanted to celebrate with him in some way. So I set up a table in the living room with a table cloth and candles, turned on the TV to watch the New Year arrive across the country, and snack on the only "snackable" food I could find in the house...saltine crackers and avocado. It turned out to be a humble but romantic evening for us. I always used to wonder how poor people could really be happy. I learned how that evening.
• But the most wonderful but scary event happened in February of that third year.
  

STAY TUNED!!!

Financial Struggles

Doing the laundry for my family always seemed to be a challenge in my life. Now with two "babies" (age 16 months and newborn) in diapers there was always lots of washing to be done. And living in a second story apartment with stairs on the outside and a second set of stairs to get to the basement where the washing machine was presented a new challenge for me. Just getting down there with all the laundry and with two little ones could be a nightmare. Do you take the baskets of dirty clothes down first and leave the children alone upstairs for a few minutes, or do you take the children down first and leave them alone in the basement while you run up the stairs and bring down the laundry? Not much of a choice. And Jim was gone from 7:30 in the morning to 11:30 at night except for when he was able to come home in between school and work for lunch. Fortunately, Jim was able to arrange his class schedule that next semester so he could come home each day and carry the clothes down for me. However, once we got everyone and everything in the basement, there was still the challenge of keeping track of the the one-year-old and oft times listening to a crying baby tucked in the buggy that I kept in the basement while I tried to get the washing done. I dreaded wash day which was usually every other day. And in the winter it was there were even more difficulties which I'm sure you can imagine.

The next two years of school were difficult, but Jim and I were adjusting to the long days of being without much of each other's company. He did come home for lunch (which I made dinner) each day, and that was great. But that one meal was usually all that we could afford each day (except for breakfast), so I always made sure there was enough left over to feed the children at night, and hopefully some for me. But there were many times that I did not eat. If Jim had been aware of that he would have quit school, and I knew it. But I suspect that maybe he at least thought that my not eating was a possibility because he would often bring a sandwich home which he bought in the cafeteria for twenty-five cents to share with me. The workers in the cafeteria knew Jim's situation and would stack the meat on those sandwiches at least double, I'm sure. So we would take it apart and make two good-sized ones. That was dinner for both of us.

Having enough money to pay all the bills was always a problem. Since I handled the finances at this time I had to decide each month who got paid and who would have to wait. I tried to rotate between the "receivers" and the "waiters" each month so as to hopefully not damage our credit rating too much. And I tried hard to not overspend our very limited food budget. That was not always easy, and there were times that I said a prayer then walked to the store looking for soda bottles I could redeem or loose change that someone may have dropped in order to have enough money to buy needed milk for the children. And it wasn't unusual if, at the end of the month our funds had run out, for us to drop by Jesse and Jean's home for a "visit". I think they knew that we needed to be invited to stay for dinner even though never a word was spoken about our need. And if we ran out of gas money before the end of the month Jim could always go to Jesse's work where they had a gas pump for their trucks and get gas he could charge to Jesse. We always tried to pay back for that gas, but most of the time he would not let us pay. How blessed we were to have such sensitive family. And how blessed we were that Jim had type O blood which he could sell at the hospital for $25.00 which he did as often as they would let him to bring in some extra money. Twenty-five dollars would go along way back then. And I can''t overlook the fact that my Aunt Dorothy who lived in Los Angeles would go into the garment district and buy big boxes of fabric. She would keep the larger pieces and send me the smaller pieces from which I made all of the children's clothes for the four years we were in school... except for the winter coats which I made from old adult coats that people gave to us.

During the second year of school, Jim spent free moments at work learning about the oxygen equipment in the hospital. So when a respiratory technician was needed he was able to step in. No more mopping floors! With a little more training he learned to be a respiratory therapist and had his own office. Since much of his work was on an "on call" basis, he now had some free time to study at work...and he now made a few cents more an hour. More blessings!

Those years in school taught us both so many lessons which helped us throughout our whole married life. I'm still great at handling money even though after we finished school I turned the finances over to Jim. And I so learned to appreciate having a husband around to help with the children. But most important of all, I learned how the Lord steps in and helps in so many small ways that could easily be unnoticed and unappreciated if all is going well. I have found that going through difficult times teach the greatest lessons and develop the character we need to make it through this life. I am truly grateful for all my challenges.

New Moms Have It "Easy"

Having spent time last month with two of my daughters (Lea and Carrie) who had just had new babies made me reflect on how much things have changed since my own little ones were born. First of all, the normal hospital stay was three days. Now, barring no complications, you are home in one. I guess this was a good thing for me because I had no one to help me once I got home. We were instructed by hospital nurses to make sure we put our babies on a strict schedule once we were home. They should not be allowed to eat oftener than three hours and not past four. If they were screaming before the three hours we could give them a little water sweetened with a little Karo syrup. The bottles used had to be meticulously sterilized. That meant boiling all bottles, nipples, pacifiers and anything that went in the baby's mouth. We had a special kettle that were designed just for that purpose.

The pacifier of my day was a regular nipple from a baby bottle stuffed with cotton. Babies were to be bathed every day and were to be placed on their tummies to sleep. Since there was no such thing as a disposable diaper, our cloth ones were to be washed daily, if possible, and only in Ivory Snow or Dreft (mild soaps). And it was recommended that they be soaked in bleach before washing to disinfect them. All other baby clothes were to be washed separately in the same mild soap. Since all clothes had to be hung out to dry (no dryers on the scene yet) they didn't come in very soft and fluffy. It helped if we had a good wind blowing on washday. In the winter it was common for the clothes to freeze on the line, so I had to bring them in and drape them on furniture all over the house to dry them.

New babies had to wear "belly bands" around their tummies until the cord fell off. They would never stay in place, and the little shirts were the cross-over ones with ties that usually just rode up around the neck....no "onesies" or shirts that went on over the head. Babies wore night gowns with draw strings at the bottom night and day. They were not dressed up unless you were going out, and "going out" with the baby was highly discouraged until six weeks. (I didn't follow that rule very much. And you know what? I don't ever remember my babies getting sick much either.)

As for furniture and accessories that are so helpful for moms these days, there was practically nothing; no changing tables, no carriers, no swings, no car seats, no little bouncy seats that play music and make soothing sounds to place them in while you worked around the house (I'm sure they must have a name), no walkers, no intercoms and no fancy strollers (only the umbrella kind which were just new and expensive. I could go on and on. What I had in those early years as a young mom were: a week's worth of clothes and diapers with "soakers" or plastic pants to go over them, blankets, a crib and a second hand "buggy" which was like a cloth bed on wheels with a handle to push. It was used like a stroller is used today to take babies for walks. It had a "hood" which raised up to protect from the sun. That was it. If we wanted to take babies with from room to room we would just take a blanket and lay them on the floor. In the living room we would prop them up in the corners of the couch and put a pillow in front of them. Playpens were available, but we never had one until our twins were born. When the baby was old enough there were jumping swings that attached to a door frame. Someone loaned me one of those, and it was a godsend. My little ones loved to jump in that swing.

Somehow, all of our children survived, or better said, I survived without all those special things that help young moms today. I'm especially grateful that our children survived all the traveling in a car without seat belts or car seats. It seemed I always had a baby or toddler on my lap as we drove. That's kind of scary as I look back. Helps for a new mom have come so far these days, as has the concern for the safety of children. That is good. But at times I wonder if we have gone a little overboard as to what think are "necessities" for new babies. With a little creativity we didn't do so bad taking care of our children in the fifties. And it surely was a lot cheaper! I can hardly conceive of what life must have been for pioneer mothers.

We Are Blessed....Again!

I think that first semester of school was the hardest for both of us. It took us those first four months to get used to a totally new schedule and for Jim to get used to the rigors of studying, taking classroom notes, and doing projects after a four-year absence from school. But by February of 1955, the beginning of the new semester, I began to feel even more stressed. Being in that dark apartment all day and night alone was really getting to me, and I just fell apart every time that /#*! washer flooded the basement. And to top it all off, I was just not feeling well. I was throwing up every morning. You guessed it. I was pregnant! My first thought was, "That's the end of school. We have no insurance and barely enough money just to keep us housed and fed." But fortunately my second thought was, "That is just not going to happen. Quitting school is not an option. Somehow, we will figure it out."

I did have one option, a necessary option for me, and that was finding a new place to live. I knew that wouldn't be easy on our limited budget, but we at least had to try. After much searching we found an apartment located on the second floor of an older home. It had stairs on the outside of the house leading to the apartment, and being upstairs with lots of windows it was so light. I loved that. But there was one problem, the $85.00 a month was beyond our budget. As we were talking to the landlord their two Weimaraner dogs came up to us and began sniffing. Jeanie, who was fascinated by those two big dogs, walked right up to one of them, got nose to nose with it and said, "Woof, woof". That just melted the heart of the landlord who said, "We just have to have that little girl in our apartment. What can you afford to pay?" The price was lowered to $65.00 and we moved in. I loved that apartment. But there was one problem. Our previous two apartments had come furnished, and this one didn't. All the furniture we owned was a television set, the little desk I had bought Jim for Christmas, and a crib for Jeanie. Thanks to Grandma Knapp who gave us an old couch and a round oak table with claw legs and matching chairs, and to my Dad who gave us my mother's old bedroom set, we had furniture. I wish I still had that beautiful oak table. It would certainly be a collectible heirloom now. And we used that old bedroom set for the next fifteen or more years.

Another great thing about that apartment was that it was within walking distance of a grocery store AND a park with a lake, an aviary, and a carousel where I could take Jeanie and her new little sister, Debbie, who was born that July. I didn't even mind having to haul the children, groceries, and laundry up and down that long flight of stairs. And I was actually glad to get back to doing the laundry in an "old-fashioned" wringer washer located down a second flight of stairs in the basement. I knew that washer could not overflow and flood the basement.

If you're wondering how we managed to pay the bills for a new baby, again we knew that God was looking out for us. When we began looking for a doctor, we discovered that my mother's doctor who had treated her for over twenty years before her death had a son who was an OB-GYN. Because he also knew of my mother and because Jim was a full time student, he only charged us $50.00 for his services. The hospital also gave us a discount because Jim was and employee. I don't remember how much our bill was, but by comparison with hospital costs today it was very minimal. Although the customary hospital stay for childbirth was three days, the doctor let me come home in just one because he was aware of our circumstances. And that summer Jim was able to pick up a second part time job during school break supervising the delivery of telephone books in the Salt Lake area. Getting the supervisory job when he applied for a job delivering the books was another small miracle. It paid more. With this extra money we were able to pay off all the "baby" bills. And, he was able to keep that same summer job for the next three years.

We could really see the Lord's hand in our lives this year as we were blessed with a new little girl, Deborah, blessed with a a new bright apartment, blessed to be able to stay in school and still meet all our financial obligations, and best of all, blessed with a happier me. We were even able to afford a small Christmas tree that year. Nineteen fifty-five was indeed a special year when our testimonies really grew!

Our School Life Begins

It took us several months to get used to our new schedule, and we began to realize just what sacrifices we would have to make. For Jim, it was getting used to studying again, finding time to study, working hard until 11:00 at night when he was dead tired, and not being at home enough to watch the new things his little girl would do almost daily as she developed new skills. For me it was hardly ever seeing Jim except for a very short time in the afternoon between school and work, never having a "baby break" when Dad could take over for a while, and having to be alone all day and night in a very depressing apartment.

But perhaps one of the most unexpected and frustrating difficulties I had to face was the washing machine I had to use in our new apartment. I should have been thrilled to have use of one of the first automatic washers on the market...a Bendix front loading machine. Only the rich could afford one at this time, and our landlady was fairly wealthy. Her name was Evelyn Wood, the inventor of the first speed reading program which she had developed. She was an educator, very well known and much in demand to teach schools and organizations how to use her new method...at a fee, of course. She may have been very smart, but she was a lousy landlord (lady). Anyway, back to the washing machine. It was located in a section of the basement not occupied by our apartment and where we had a storage closet. So what was the problem? The problem was that occasionally the door of washer would come unlatched from the vibrating of the machine, and water would flood the basement. The first time it happened I thought that I must not have locked the door completely, and I was devastated. I swept the water from the flooded basement to the drain the best I could and opened all the basement windows to help dry things out. All the things I had stored in the closet were soaked, including some boxed wedding gifts, books, documents, and memorabilia that were important to me. I was scared to death what Sister Wood (she was a member of the Church) would say. Needless to say she was not happy. After this happened two or three more times I KNEW it wasn't my fault because I was so careful to make sure the door was locked securely. But I surely spent a lot of time crying as I mopped up the mess gain and again.

The first Christmas in that apartment was pretty bleak. We couldn't afford a Christmas tree nor decorations to trim one. Jeanie's only gift from Santa was a stuffed animal, Tramp, from Walt Disney's movie, "Lady and the Tramp". We spent some time with Grandma Knapp, Dad and Teun, and Jesse and Jean just to get us more in the holiday spirit. At least they had Christmas trees...and they all had gifts for Jeanie. But the thing that made this Christmas special and memorable to me was that I was able to surprise Jim with a small desk on which he could study. I had saved nickles and dimes from grocery money over the past six months, and with the influence of my dad on the furniture store owner who was a personal friend, I was able to get a great deal on the desk. As I look back now it was a pretty cheap (and I don't mean just in dollars), but at the time I thought it was pretty wonderful. That desk has since been used for many purposes, including a sewing table for me.

Jim made it through his first semester with reasonable grades considering he had taken mostly required (and not too interesting to him) subjects. And I had survived my first four months as a "widow" by taking long walks with Jeanie and talking to neighbors. We only had one car so I couldn't go anywhere. But even though at times I felt depressed and lonely, I tried to be "up" and positive when Jim came home. I wanted him to feel loved and supported in what he was doing. And by comparison he was sacrificing much more than me. He has since told me that if I had complained about our situation or lack of material things he would have quit school in an instant and gone to work to support us better. He also said that he could have easily used that as an excuse for him to quit when things were tough for him and he really wanted to give it all up. But he had too much pride to take the blame.

What kept us both going was the knowledge that an education would make a difference in what we could provide for our family in the future. And that was worth it!

Challenges of a New Mom - Decisions, Decisions

It was on the way home from the hospital with this new little life in my arms (no car seats were required. In fact, they were probably still just a thought on someones creative mind) that reality set in. I was a mom!!! Jim and I would be responsible not only for the health and well being of this little person but for what she would become. That thought was so overwhelming for a very young twenty year old. I was so inexperienced and I didn't have a mom to check with to make sure I was doing things right. I would have to depend on "mother's intuition" if such a thing existed. It wasn't long before I realized that it actually did.

Since there was no one to be with me that first week, I just jumped in to all my new responsibilities...being up two or three times every night to feed and comfort a crying baby, rinsing and washing what seemed to me an endless stream of dirty diapers (no disposables), sterilizing bottles (a "must" back then), and taking drives - sometimes even in the middle of the night- to soothe a crying baby who would be comforted no other way. Jeanie was a colicky baby and cried a lot. Thank goodness for paregoric which was used to treat colic in the early days before it was discovered it had some bad side effects (I never saw any) and is now a "no, no".

For the first few months our little Jeanie slept in a cradle which was made for my sisters and me when we were babies. I had painted it and made a new liner and mattress cover for it. I don't know what ever happened to that cradle, and I wish I did. I only remember that she was the only one who slept in it. We later bought a crib, a cheap one, that only lasted through our first three babies and then literally fell apart. But when we bought it, it was all we could afford and we thought it was wonderful.

Besides bragging about our new little daughter, Jim's and my discussions now turned to our future plans. Jim's commitment to the Air Force was drawing to a close and we needed to decide whether to re-enlist for another four years or pursue another career which would require going back to school. Re-enlisting was very tempting because it would include a $4,000 bonus. That was a LOT of money which could buy a LOT of things back then. And we could have government housing which was cheap, full medical coverage, and reduced-priced shopping at the commissary and PX. And even being able to travel to other countries sounded exciting to me. But I knew Jim had always talked about getting a college degree. His brother, Jesse, had try to instill the importance of education to Jim and his siblings whom he raised. Jesse had given up his own education in order to raise these brothers and sisters. No one so far in his whole family had ever gone on to college. Maybe part of Jim's desire to be the "one" to go on was his way showing his brother his gratitude for all he had sacrificed for him.

It was July before we decided to forgo the $4,000, retire from the military, and take on the challenge of getting an electrical engineering degree at the University of Utah. We knew the only way this would be possible was if Jim worked full time to support the family and went to school full time if he was to graduate in four years. Because he would be a war-time veteran the government would contribute $165.00 a month toward his education. That would help, but would certainly not cover even the school expenses. Since Jim's formal release time wouldn't be until the first of September and fall semester at the university began just a few days after that, we had to begin soon to find a place to live, secure a job for Jim, get registered at the university, and sign up for classes.

After much searching we found a small apartment in the basement of some one's home. It was in the neighborhood where I lived when we were married. It was old, kind of dark and dreary and not the best designed place we had seen, but it was what we could afford. Jim found a job at the LDS Hospital in the housekeeping department which meant mopping floors and cleaning up messes that no one else wanted to touch. For that he would be paid $1.00 an hour. Yes, that was ONE DOLLAR an hour, minimum wage. But the hours would work with his school schedule. He had been accepted at the University of Utah, and his classes on most days would be from 7:00 or 8:00 a.m. to 1:00 or 2:00 p.m. His work schedule was from 3:00 to 11:00 p.m.
Somewhere in there he would have to find time to study. We both knew that the next four years were going to be a challenge. But we were young and optimistic that together we could make the necessary sacrifices to reach this new goal we had set. We knew it would be difficult for both of us, but especially for Jim. He had always been a hard worker, but this would be the ultimate test of his strength and endurance. We were about to begin the next important phase of our lives that would in many ways affect the future of our family. Were we up to the challenge?

"Who Are These Children Coming Down?"

The last few weeks have been wonderfully extraordinary for me with the birth of three beautiful new special spirits into our family. First there was grandson, Wesley, born on April 12 to Carrie and Todd, followed my great granddaughter, Jaycee, who arrived on May 2. Her parents are Rachael and Rod Gardner. Then just six days later another granddaughter, Sierra, joined the Lea and Paul's family. Another great granddaughter is due to arrive in August. Looking at these new little babies either in person or by the miracle of the internet
has set me to thinking about the miracle of birth, about who these little spirits were in the pre-existence and pondering about the missions they were assigned to perform before they left the presence of our Heavenly Father. This I do know...all of them are valiant spirits who earned the right and were ordained to come to the earth at this time to perform a special mission, to usher in the second coming of the Savior. This is true of all those born in this generation. Each may have a different role to play in this great mission which will only be known to them through personal revelation. What an awesome task you parents have to teach, influence, and prepare these children to be worthy to receive this special guidance and revelation that comes through the Holy Ghost. Through your teachings and example they must learn to love the Lord that they will be called to serve. I'm sure each one of you feels the great responsibility that lies on your shoulders. But knowing each one you, I know you are up to the task and will do all you can to be good...no...GREAT parents.

How privileged we are to live in these last days to see the gospel spread to the far corners of the earth, to see revelation being fulfilled, and to know the hour of Christ's second coming is "close at hand" as the scriptures state. How privileged we are to welcome into our homes these "Saturday's Warriors" who are so smart, who have such strong personalities (they're going to need them), and who have come to us with special gifts, and talents which are necessary for them to fulfill the mission they have accepted. And it is not by accident that they came to you. The Lord placed these children in the homes where He knew they would have the best chance to succeed. He trusted you to love, nourish, and prepare the most noble of His children.

When I see these new, precious little ones, and know who they really are, I stand in awe. I am so grateful that the members of this family have been chosen to be part of God's great plan for these last days. I am grateful to be part of this family who love and support each other. The great responsibilities and inadequacies that we all feel at times are made easier when we know we have such a strong help and support system we have through family when we need it. God bless you all for that.

Today is Mother's Day, and although you may know that this is not my favorite holiday for reasons I have mentioned before, today has been wonderful because I have taken the time to reflect on all the blessings I have experienced because of being a mom. Sometimes it takes a lifetime before you really realize that it has been the family, especially your children who have brought you an understanding as to what JOY really means. There are a lot of bumps along the way, but they become just little molehills when you reach the end of the parenting journey and the fruits of your efforts begin to appear in the lives your children lead. I feel truly blessed this Mother's Day as my thoughts have been directed toward my sons and daughters all of whom are now parents and can understand what I'm saying. This has truly been a lovely day. And yes, your dad made me the traditional white carnation corsage, brought me breakfast in bed (eggs Benedict, no less), and cooked a wonderful dinner for me (chicken cordon bleu and strawberry shortcake). What a great husband and father he has been! And today I felt the spirit of my mom very close today and I know that she loves me and forgives me even if I did miss her last Mother's Day on earth. I feel at peace.

My First Birthing Experience

Thoughts of my mother became less painful as I began to focus on preparing for the upcoming birth of my first baby which was now only two months away. Except for frequent bouts with my skin allergy, all had gone well. My thoughts often drifted to wondering whether we would have a girl or a boy (no ultra sounds back then) and what he/she would look like. I imagined this dark-haired, (lots of it) brown-eyed, olive skin baby...like his/her father. As a little girl I had fantasized about marrying an Indian, a real Indian that wore a loin cloth and lived in a tepee. I have no idea where that fantasy came from. But it had been somewhat fulfilled when I married my part Indian, Jim. (Jim's grandmother was Indian) So maybe this vision I had about what my baby should look like was part of the fantasy I had as a child.

I hadn't been too excited by my prenatal care by random military doctors and nurses, (whoever happened to be on duty the day of my appointments), and I had no idea who would be on call when I went into labor. But their services were free. I don't feel that I had been very well prepared for a first-time birth. I really didn't know what to expect. I was a week overdue when I started having what I thought were regular contractions. So I headed off to the ugly, barrack-like hospital on base. Instead of telling me that these contractions were not the "real thing" and sending me home, they just kept me there. It was two days before I started in labor for real. No one had taught me how to minimize the pain and stress by relaxing and breathing techniques, so I was fighting every single contraction. (Maybe those techniques were not even around those days. Who knows?) I think this contributed to twenty-four hours of labor. By the time my baby was born, I was totally "out of it" because of all the drugs I had been given. This was not a great experience.

When my beautiful eight pound, three ounce, twenty-two inch long baby girl was placed in my arms, the bad experience of giving birth was all forgotten. However, when I looked at this blond-haired (what little she had), blue-eyed, white-skinned (not even pink) baby I wondered if somehow babies had been switched in the nursery. This couldn't be my baby. She didn't look anything like what I had pictured in my mind. But then I remembered that there were only two babies in the nursery, so it would have been pretty hard to mix them up. And besides, I had already fallen in love with that beautiful baby in my arms, blond hair and all.

My hospital stay was three days long as was standard in 1955. The worst part of that stay was the meals. No, it wasn't because of lousy food. It was where we had to eat them...in the mess hall with young servicemen. Here we were, in our hospital gowns, carrying our donut pillows given to us to make sitting a little more comfortable because of stitches, walking into a room full of staring, snickering single males. It was embarrassing...no, humiliating. I was so glad when I could take my baby and go home, swearing never to have another baby in a military hospital even if it was free.

We named our little girl Bessie Jean...Bessie after my mother and Jean after the sister-in-law who sacrificed so much to raise Jim in his teen-age years. We knew she would probably hate the old fashioned name, Bessie, or that she may some day be mocked by her peers because the name "Bessie" was often given to cows. So from the very beginning we called her Jeanie. I felt sad that Mother would never know her namesake, at least not in this life. But as I gave it more thought, I felt very strongly that Mom knew Jeanie better than me and I smiled at the thought that maybe she even picked her out to be sent to us because she was such a special spirit. It wouldn't surprise me if Jim's mom was right there, too, using whatever influence she may have had to pick the best. I have since felt that same way about all of the children that have come to us because they all have been so special...and still are. We have been blessed!

So now it was home to face life as a new mother without the help and advice of my experienced mother. Thank heaven for a wonder grandmother who picked up the reins and was there for me whenever I needed a mom.

Realizing the Vital Role of Mother

It had only been five short months since my mother had stood in the line at my wedding...only twenty short years that my mother had been part of my life, and a very long two months since I said good-bye for the last time at the airport. I didn't know it would be the last time because I already had in my mind that I would take my newborn to California to see her. I remember her getting on the airplane from a wheelchair with her oxygen tank in tow. She was excited because this would be her first ever flight in a plane, and she hoped that the lower altitude in California would prolong her life a little longer. And we, too, hoped that this would be the case. She so wanted to live at least a few years longer to get J.D. through those difficult teen years. But it was not to be. It was on October 10, 1954, that my dad called to tell me that Mom had passed away. I don't think it was by chance, but by divine intervention that her beloved doctor from Salt Lake just happened to be taking trip to California and stopped by to see her the day that she died. He was there to aid and comfort her. What a blessing. Mom was flown home for the funeral and burial. This was where she was born and spent her life. This was where her family and and life-long friends were. This is where she would have wanted to be laid to rest next to her father and younger brother who had drowned at the age of sixteen.

The next few months are a big blur in my life. Although I was aware of the fragile condition of my mother's health, it had been that way for many years and still, somehow, she had survived to the age of forty-five. But still that is so young to die. Her doctor who spoke at her funeral said that it had only been her strong will to live that had kept her alive ten years longer than he would have predicted. But still the reality of her death failed to "sink in". Are we ever really ready to lose those in our life whom we love so much even though we know it is inevitable? Did I say often enough how much I loved her? Did I express my gratitude for how much he taught me and all that she did for me in spite of being so sick? Did I really empathize with the difficulty of her life? Did I show the resentment that I felt at times because I had to do so much more than my friends to help her out? And what did I do for her on Mother's Day this last year? That haunted me the most because I realized that Mother's Day that year was the same weekend that we were married, and I wasn't even sure I remembered her special day. I don't remember even going to visit her. I've hated Mother's Day ever since because it brings back memories of forgetting my mom on the the last year she was on earth.

I was very concerned at this time for my brother and sister, Georgia. Georgia had only been in Hawaii for two days when she received the news about mom and immediately flew home. She was now in a turmoil as to what to do with her life now that all her plans had been disrupted. She moved in with Grandma Knapp and went back to work. But I really worried about J.D. who had moved into a small apartment with my dad. He was very close to Mom, and I could see the pain he was feeling. This was made worse by the fact that my dad began dating almost immediately after my mom died. I feel that it showed insensitivity to us children and to mom's family even though Mom had always said that she wanted him to marry again after her death. She loved Dad and didn't want him to be alone for the rest of his life knowing that her days were numbered. She even suggested that Teuntje Van de Merwe, a single immigrant from Holland and a close family friend, would make a good wife. But dating her so soon after Mom's death bothered us and I think was devastating to J.D. Teun, as we called her, was a good person and a hard worker, but she had never been married and would now have to take on a teenage son. She, like my dad, had the "Old Country" thinking when it came to raising children...very strict. "Do what I say when I say it and no arguing" was their philosophy, and I knew that would never work with a teenager. Mom had been very good at tempering this kind of attitude in my dad, but now there would be no restraint. I could see real trouble ahead for J.D....and there was.

Christmas came and it was the worst one of my life. I guess I never realized or at least I failed to realize that it was Mom who kept the family close, especially on the holidays. Nobody in the family stepped up to the plate and planned anything. On Christmas Eve I remember going to Grandma Knapp's apartment where my sister was. We just sat together wondering what to do and what to say, and ended up sharing how much we missed Mom and crying together. We tried to locate J.D. and Dad but they were not home. We assumed that they must be with Teun and her friends. What a miserable Christmas he must have been having. I'm not even sure that my dad got him anything that Christmas because once again it was Mom who took care of those things. And I'm sure Dad was a little preoccupied with other things like planning his upcoming marriage in January. That, too, had been a little depressing to all of us. We had tried to talk to Dad about waiting a little while longer, but he could see no reason for waiting. He told us that "This is what Mom wanted so why put it off." He just seemed oblivious to our feelings. Christmas day we spent with Jim's family, and that was a nice diversion from all the pain we were feeling.

Somehow we survived that Christmas with a resolve to never let this happen again. We would make sure that plans would be made to have the next one like Mom would have wanted. But now we would have to face the upcoming wedding with "happy for Dad" faces. Don't get me wrong, Teun was a great person. We really liked her. And we were happy that Dad would now have someone wait on him like he had waited on my mother and the family for all these years. And we knew that Teun would. Dad deserved that. And I truly believed that she loved him and was excited about getting married for the first time. But I know that she had expressed some concern that maybe it was too soon. In that way she was more sensitive than Dad. But my Dad was stubborn and would not listen to her either. So the wedding was on and our concern was now for my little brother.

Life With All Its' Challenges Goes On

Being "first time" pregnant is not easy for anyone, I'm sure. But being in the military made it even more challenging. There wasn't the comfort of a familiar family doctor or ob-gyn. There was just the impersonal and emotionally uninvolved doctor who had probably used the military as a way of financing his medical school and was now just "serving his time". And the medical facilities at the base weren't the greatest, either. I had a lot of questions that I was afraid to ask these young doctors who were never the same from visit to visit. My education on pregnancy and childbirth was pretty limited because that was something even mothers didn't talk much about to their daughters...at least not mine. The only thing I ever remember my mother telling (actually, just showing) me when I was in my early teens, was an article that Life Magazine that showed an actual birth. But the mother was so draped and covered with sheets that it was impossible to even tell where the baby was coming from. Mom didn't explain anything, but just asked if I had any questions. I answered, "no". I would have been too embarrassed to ask the questions that may have been on my mind. End of conversation! Schools didn't do much in the way of sex education or childbirth either, so you could say that I was pretty naive. I understood the basics, but not too many details. As an after thought, I don't think I did a very good job with my girls, either. It takes a generation or two of cultural and custom changes to improve communication of subjects once considered "Taboo". I do remember hearing my father say at one time, "All those things just come naturally. You don't have to worry about them." But I hated those first prenatal trips to the doctors at Hill Field.

Although we made frequently weekend trips to Salt Lake to see family, I never "dumped" on Mom with my personal discomforts or concerns, especially because her health was declining rapidly. I knew she would worry about me and it was all she could handle just to deal with her own challenges. Besides her own health there was concern for my fourteen year old brother, J.D. and my unmarried sister, Georgia, who was struggling with some major decisions in her life. In July, Mom and Dad decided to move to California hoping that the lower altitude with help Mom to breathe easier as she now had to be continually on oxygen. Dad was able to find a printing job in Inglewood, and a duplex was purchased there for them. Claire and her family moved into one side of the duplex to be close enough to help Mom. That was a real sacrifice she made, and I 'm sure Dad was very appreciative. Georgia moved in with Grandma Knapp because she didn't want to move to California, and in October she and a close friend decided to move to Hawaii for a "new adventure". They were hoping to find new jobs and new friends.

I felt really alone and abandoned at this time with all my immediate family moving away. My Grandma Knapp became my surrogate mom, and I found it easier to talk to her than it had been to talk to my mother. I think this may have been because Dad so protected Mom, even from us children for her health's sake. I'm sure that wouldn't have been mother's desire, and I'm sure she wasn't aware how many times Dad told us to "Stay away from Mom", or " Don't bother Mom. She needs her rest. " We did spend time with Jesse and Jean, and that also helped. It was during this time that I learned how to cook Mexican food even though very often on the way home Jim would have to stop the car so I could throw up. Mexican food and pregnancy just didn't mix well for me.

Uncle Ken (my Mom's brother) and Aunt Ina lived in Ogden at the time we were there. Uncle Ken was the administrator of the Dee Memorial Hospital there. They were very good to us, having us to dinner very often. It was Aunt Ina who taught me how to make orange rolls which has become a family favorite and Thanksgiving tradition. Uncle Ken tried to convince us to have out baby at his hospital instead of on base. I really would have like that, but it would have cost us $100 for a three day stay (customary time for childbirth) and that was a lot of money for us. It would cost us nothing at the base hospital. But we kept the idea in the back of our minds.

The next few months seemed to drag on. I was passed the morning sickness, but I wasn't working because I was battling the skin allergies that were worsening. I was back on cortisone cream and bathing in water with powdered oatmeal to help sooth the burning and itching. Treating these kinds of allergies was still kind of experimental. But it was fun looking at baby "things" in the stores, planning for what we would need, and saving money to buy these basic needs. I talked to Mom every week on the phone, and although he never complained, I could tell she wasn't doing so well. I was now five months pregnant, and I could tell she was sad that she would not be able to come and see the new baby when it was born. She loved her grandchildren (Claire now had three children), and I was glad that they were living close by. But I, too, felt sad that she would not be close by when my first child was born. Babies need Grandmas.

It was October 10, 1954, when I received that dreaded phone call from California.

Up and Down, Up and Down, oooops!

Beginning married life didn't come without challenges. Being there was no "breaking-in" time on a honeymoon we jumped right into a daily routine which began the week following our wedding. For Jim it was up at 6:00 A.M. in order to be at work at the base (Hill Air Force Base) by 7:00. Wanting to be the perfect wife, I, too, was up to fix him breakfast, pack him a lunch, and give him a kiss good-bye. Then it was "What am I going to fix for dinner?" This was one of by biggest concerns before I was even married. I really wasn't sure what Jim really liked, what he really didn't like, or what our limited food budget would permit. When I was living at home, our meals pretty much consisted of easy, inexpensive, and repetitive menus that my mom could prepare. My dad was pretty much a meat and potatoes man, and the meat was usually some form of hamburger. I wanted to impress my new husband with great meals that he would love...a challenge.

Then there was the challenge of laundering Jim's uniforms the way he liked. Most of the time he wore fatigues to work, but when he wore a uniform it had to be pressed military style...sharp creases in the pants and three evenly spaced creases down the back of the shirt. The uniform was made of a thick cotton fabric that was very difficult to iron in the first place. Just getting the wrinkles out was a challenge. But then I used a ruler to get those creases in the shirt just right. Jim has always been very conscientious about his appearance, and I have always been appreciative of that, but I didn't enjoy ironing those uniforms. But I understood that being a staff sergeant in charge of an electronics maintenance shop required him want to present a proper example to those who worked under him.

My next challenge: What to do with all the time I had on my hands alone at home every day. That problem wasn't hard to solve. I began looking for a job. I really didn't have to work because Jim's income was sufficient to pay the bills, especially since we were able to shop the discounted prices at the commissary and our medical care was part of the military benefits. But a little extra money would be nice to purchase some of the "wants" that we had. I found a job at JC Penney's operating an elevator. Yes, back then you couldn't just push a button and the elevator would go up or down and stop at the designated floor. A person actually had to use a hand control to operate the elevator and line it up exactly level with the floor where it stopped. I was paid the minimal wage of $.75 an hour. The job was a little boring and after month of going up and down and jerking at each floor (I was getting better) the constant motion all day long began to get to me and I began feeling sick to my stomach. I fought the feeling day after day by keeping my pocket full of dry crackers which I would try to eat inconspicuously while operating the elevator. The nausea got even worse and after throwing up on the elevator one day, I quit my job. As you have probably guessed by now, it wasn't motion sickness I was suffering; I was pregnant! The next three or four months were not fun for me. I was really sick and tired. Then to top it all off, the change of hormones in my body brought on a major episode of my skin allergies. What a way to begin a marriage!

Through this tough time, Jim was an absolute angel. He was so empathetic with my feeling so bad that he had the same nausea every morning right along with me. Seriously! Sometimes I would tell him that I felt fine when I was about to throw up just to keep him from getting sick. When he would go to work, I would run to the bathroom. Nights were better so we would go to an occasional movie, go for a drive, or just sit on the couch or lie in bed and listen to the radio. Although our apartment came furnished, it did not have television. TV was relatively new and not common in all households. My sister had bought my mom one while I was in college, but I did not have the opportunity to watch it much when I came home. But TV now would have been a nice diversion from listening night after night to: "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men. The Shadow knows". This was the famous introductory to the radio show "Shadow". Other shows we listened to were "Gunsmoke", "Dragnet", "Adventures of the Thin Man", "George Burns and Gracie Allen" (not one of our favorites), "The Green Hornet", "The Bing Crosby Show,"etc. We also got a little tired of hearing the same old musical hits of our day, "Open the Door, Richard", "Sh-Boom, Sh-Boom", "Sixteen Tons", "Earth Angel", "Cross Over the Bridge", "I'm Your Hoochie Coochie Man", played over and over on the music station. Soooo, we splurged and made our first major purchase of our marriage, a television set. Now we could watch the shows that made this period of time still called "The Golden Age of Television" or "Vaudeville TV many of the variety shows starred those who had become famous on the vaudeville stage. Now we were able to watch "The Red Skelton Show", "The Jack Benny Show", "Ted Mack's Original Amature Hour", "Arthur Godfrey", "Milton Berle", "Ed Sullivan", "Lawrence Welk", "George Gobel", "Perry Como", etc. I can hear you laughing now. Probably most of you have never even heard of half these people who had shows "way back then". But at least we didn't have to put blocks on any of the channels (all two or three of them), and it was a welcome change from radio. Life was good. We really were excited about becoming a family of three. AND planning meals was becoming easier.

The Great Escape

Our wedding reception went as planned, without incident. Jim was so handsome in his tux. Mom rested all day after the temple so she could be there. It was only the second time I had seen her in a long dress with her hair in an "updo" AND a little makeup to help her look less pale and gaunt from her progressing illness. The first time was at my sister's wedding. I noticed that she looked so much more thin and fragile than I remembered her then. Of course my dad, Jesse and Jean and members of the bridal party were there in line for the reception.

It was after the reception that things got "interesting"...no...CRAZY!!!! We were very aware of the new craze that was circulating among friends of newly weds viz. kidnapping the bride and groom after the reception and driving one to Provo and the other to Ogden and just dropping them off there. There had actually been one incident when the car carrying the bride was involved in an accident which killed the bride. Can you imagine such a tragedy? So the idea of this happening to us was a bit scary. Some of Jim's unmarried friends were not beyond attempting such a stunt or something else just as disrupting of our wedding night. We weren't disappointed. After changing into our "get away" clothes at the church, we sneaked out the rear door to where our car was, "inconspicuously" parked only to discover that it had been jacked up and put on blocks so the wheels just spun. Jim had thought of the possibility that something something like this would happen to disable it. Just decorating it for fun would have been nice, but these friends weren't necessarily nice. So he had arranged backup plan just in case. He had arranged for his brother to be waiting in another car to pick us up if necessary. And it was necessary. But by the time we were getting into that car, the friends realized we were not in the church and had run outside just to see us get into that car and the chase was on. By the time they reached their cars we had a head start. We had several other advantages. We knew the neighborhood and they didn't, and because it was dark and they were chasing a car unfamiliar to them they had to slow down and look into every passing car. We ducked down in the back seat in hopes that they wouldn't see us if they passed. After driving around the neighborhood a few times, we met my Uncle and Aunt and transferred into their car. They drove around for a while to make sure they weren't being followed, then dropped us off at my house. But I guess when our adversaries had been unsuccessful in the car chase, they decided to check out my house. When we saw them out front we ran through my back yard to the back yard of the neighbors on the next street. Since we knew these neighbors, Dad was on the phone asking them to let us in the house. We stayed there for I don't remember how long, but long enough to feel comfortable that they had given up on the chase and that Jesse had gotten our car off the blocks so we could use it to drive to our destination, our Ogden apartment. All that I remember at this point was that I was SO tired and we still had a "long" drive ahead of us. It had been a very long day.

We finally arrived at our apartment very late that night. Actually, I'm sure that it was very early in the morning. Did I say that I was tired? Well now I was really, really tired. So tired, in fact, that all I wanted to do was sleep. To heck with it being my wedding night. I'm sure you won't believe me when I say that we just crawled into bed and went to sleep, but that is true. Jim was just as tired as me. But I have to admit, it was the best sleep I had ever had because for the first time I was cuddled up in the arms of my sweetheart and HUSBAND. It all felt so good and so right.

The Wedding Day

For a month or so before the wedding, Mom had been encouraging me to have a perm. I had thin, very straight hair that refused to hold a curl for more than a day without re-setting. I had never had a perm, not even a "home" one because I equated a perm with frizzy uncontrolled hair and I wanted not part of it. I wanted to look the best I could for my husband on our wedding day. I resisted all attempts to make me believe that it would be much easier to look good if I added a little "body" to my hair which a perm would provide, and I wouldn't have to set my hair every single day like I was used to doing. I should have listened, but instead I dutifully set my hair in pin curls on the eve of my wedding day and went to bed.

Although I thought I would be too excited or too nervous to fall asleep, I dozed right off to "Dreamland" without even the dreams and slept peacefully through the night. I jumped right out of bed when the alarm went off at seven. I knew I had two hours to get ready before we had to be at the temple. That would be plenty of time for me, and probably even time to spare. Then I looked in the mirror. And there staring back at me was this ugly person with straight, limp hair. It seems that sometime during the night I had taken all the bobbi pins which held the pin curls out of my hair. I just stared in unbelief for at least a minute, and then I began to cry. What was I going to do? There wasn't time to reset and dry my hair. Air drying took time and only beauty salons had blow dryers. My family rallied around me and came up with the idea to use the oven to help dry my hair. I quickly reset my hair and spent the next hour or so bent over with my head in the warm oven. Although it didn't completely dry by the time I had to comb it out, my hair was at least presentable (a hat really helped) and we made it to the temple on time.

What a beautiful sight it was to see my immediate family, Mom, Dad, my two sisters, and Grandma Knapp, Jim's family, Jesse, Jean, and brother Rudy, plus aunts, uncles and friends, all dressed in white, as we were led into the sealing room of the Salt Lake Temple. There at the head of the altar stood Elder Harold B. Lee who was to be our sealer. I remember how beautiful he looked...yes, beautiful. He just seemed to have an aura all about him. There was such a special spirit in the room that day that I will never forget. Elder Lee had us sit as he gave us counsel before performing the ceremony. Probably like most of you who have been married, I don't remember everything he said to us. But there was one thing that I will never forget, probably because it sounded so unbelievable to me at the time. But over the last fifty-four years I realize how prophetic it really was. This is what he said: "I know how much love you feel for each other this day. I see it in your eyes. But I promise that in the years to come, your love will grow so much that, by comparison, you will wonder if you were in love at all on the day you were married." He was SO right! There are no words in the English language to express the love I feel today for that wonderful eternal companion of mine.

We knelt at the altar, held hands and looked into each other's eyes as Elder Lee performed that simple but beautiful ordinance that bound us together for time and all eternity. Then that first kiss over the altar as husband and wife. That was the most beautiful moment of my life. The hugs and expressions of love and congratulations which followed were blurred by comparison. I hardly remember assembling for pictures on the temple steps after the ceremony, but I have the pictures to prove that we did. I wasn't in my wedding dress as we see brides today. No one wore their wedding dresses in the temple or on the grounds afterwards for pictures. That was saved for the reception. So I was dressed in my navy blue faille suit, which I wore to the temple and my little blue hat which gratefully helped cover up my now drooping hair.

Then it was back home (no wedding luncheon) to get ready for the reception which also meant resetting my hair. What a way to spend your wedding day...in curlers!

Those Last Few Days Before the BIG ONE

You'll never guess what my number one priority on my "to do" list was after my sweetheart was home. Was it taking pictures that could be used for the newspaper account of our wedding? Was it finding a place to live in Ogden which was the closest town to Hill Air Force Base? Was it having Jim see about renting tuxes for himself and his best man, his brother Rudy? Was it formally asking my father's permission to marry me...something that my father required? Was it looking for a car since we were having to borrow one to get around? Actually, it was none of the above. What was the most important to me was having Jim propose to me the traditional way...on his knees, and placing the ring on my finger himself. even though I had been wearing it for over a year. Receiving a proposal and ring by mail needs something to be desired. And I desired the thrill of saying "yes" in person followed by a hug and a very long kiss. I wasn't disappointed when Jim took me to the top of "I" street overlooking the city on his first Monday evening home and did everything the traditional way.

Tuesday, I met with the photographer at the State Capitol Building in Salt Lake. There on the beautiful marble staircase in the entry way to the building, he took my formal wedding pictures in my gown, one of which was selected for the newspaper. I wouldn't let Jim come with me because I didn't want him to see my dress.

The rest of that week we drove back and forth from Salt Lake to Ogden looking for an apartment. We were lucky to find a small basement apartment for the price that we could afford. It had a small kitchen, a living room and one bedroom. The bathroom was outside the actual apartment in another part of the basement...a little inconvenient but okay. We planned to stay there on our wedding night because after purchasing a car (a used Chevy), paying for the final costs of a wedding, and a down payment on a place to live, there wasn't money left for a fancy hotel or even a honeymoon. But I didn't care. I would be married and that is all that mattered to me.

It was now a few days before our BIG DAY. Everything seemed to be in place; people to help in the kitchen, a friend to sit at the guest book, and more friends to take and open the gifts. Yes, back in "those days" all gifts were opened as the arrived and were displayed on tables for the guests to see. There were more of mom's friends who would help set up and decorate because it would be all that Mom could do to just be at the temple in the morning, go home and rest, and be able to be at the reception that evening. While I'm speaking of my mom I want to clarify a few things that may have given you the wrong impression of her. I mentioned I had to sell my cello to help pay for the wedding. My parents were not scrooges by any means. They would loved to be able to help me with all the costs, but they just didn't have the money. With no health insurance and with Mom's medical bills so high, they were barely able to make it month to month. My mother felt so badly and was often in tears because she felt responsible for the family's financial situation. She would have loved to help us children more with school, wedding, and other expenses after we had done all that we could on our own. I'm sure she felt terrible about my selling my cello.

Getting back to those last few days before the wedding, you'd probably never guess what I began worrying about. I thought to myself, "How am I going to think of what to cook for dinner seven nights a week, four weeks a month, and twelve months a year. That's three hundred and sixty-five meals!" I began to panic. I had never begun to collect recipes. I began to write down every meal I could remember having at home. I talked to my married sister, Claire, my grandmother Knapp, my Aunt Dorothy, and anyone else I could think of. It was a little late to begin a recipe book of family favorites, but at least I had some idea of different meals I could prepare. I would just have to buy a good cookbook with recipes. Betty Crocker's Cook Book was my choice. Yes they were available back in 1954.

Thursday, May 13, finally arrived. (Jim always teases me about being married on FRIDAY the 13th). Our sealing was scheduled for 10:00 in the morning as I recall. I woke up plenty early to get ready for my big day. Then I looked in the mirror and my excitement turned to pure panic!!