The Ken and Naida Show

It’s just a shame you weren’t here Tuesday night --or that it wasn’t recorded -- to get what happened a couple weeks ago straight from Grandma’s mouth.  Grandpa and Grandma went to their first meeting of the Sunday block together – Grandma off to Relief Society, and Grandpa off to Priesthood.  Somewhere during Priesthood and before Sunday School, (details are a little vague here and slightly disputed) Grandpa slipped off back home—allegedly to put the roast on so it would be ready for dinner after church.  Grandma became concerned when Grandpa never showed up for Sunday School.  She called home and let it ring and ring but when no one answered she was worried enough to go looking for help.  She found the Bishop and told him she was afraid that something awful had happened to Grandpa.  The Bishop said he would find her a priesthood holder to take her back home to look for him and instructed her to drive back the same way they usually come to church.  As they were all standing around getting organized to go on this missing spouse hunt, in walks Grandpa;  healthy, whole and smiling.  What had happened to Grandpa?  Well, he had just happened to go home and just happened to turn on the TV and it just happened to be the Canadian Curling Championships.  Grandma could’ve steamed that roast herself right then and there.

The Bishop then asked them both to speak in Sacrament meeting the following Sunday.  The topic?  Forgiveness.

These little visits of theirs always leave us with all kinds of great memories—whether they involve food, games, reminiscing, shopping, movies, sports, or even working.  If there is some project going on outside, Grandpa will be there.  I just happened to show him the tree that had fallen out of the wetlands and landed on one of the maples in our backyard that Devin had been working on the night before.  .

The next morning when Grandpa went missing, I happened to look out back, and there he was on a stool, at nearly 90,  hacking away at the broken branch of the maple that needed to come out.  I had to hustle Devin out there before I found Grandpa up in the tree  -- or worse.

Thankfully, there are times when even Devin hustles.

And swings from vines  . . .

Then when Grandpa started going after the blackberry bushes that infiltrate our own wilderness area every year, I had to send for more support.  Nathan was soon enlisted and taking orders.

Grandma  has perfected that amazing ability of smiling while listening to never ending flute and piano practicing.

Marci is playing the bass flute here.  Their yearly spring concert happens in a couple of weeks, and just two weeks ago, the regular bass flute player came down with some kind of lung problem that wouldn’t allow her to play the bass flute.  It takes LOTS of air.  Marci’s teacher was very relieved when Marci was willing to take on the challenge of starting all over with new parts – and doing it in one month.

 

 

 This is one of Grandma’s constant companions.  She doesn’t go many places without it these days.  I think it has to be one of the neatest looking canes I have ever seen.  For anybody that’s listening, I would like one of these some day. . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandpa without his new green hat that Grandma made him buy yesterday to match his green coat.  She wouldn’t let him in the car till he came out with a matching hat.  But you notice, she still kind of likes him anyway.

 

It really stinks when every one takes off at once.  Grandpa and Grandma just left for David’s to attend the Vancouver Canada Temple Dedication this weekend.  We will miss you!!!

And Marci and Jamie  just left for a Girl’s Camp Overnighter.  It’s just me and the natives now.  And they’re not very restless.  Boring.

My Week In the Dungeon Among the Dead

Well, actually, it wasn’t as bad as all that,  but “The Dungeon” is what I lovingly call the bottom basement level of the Family History Library in Salt Lake City, also known as B-2 or the British Isles floor, where Jim and I just spent the past week.

Last September I had received a rogue e-mail from a guy in New Zealand who had been googling “Barnes” and had seen a query I had sent out a year before about my Barnes family in England.  He was going through his mother’s English research and noticed we shared a common name, Upton Barnes.  He mentioned that Upton’s great granddaughter, Susanna, married Esau Elliott.  Well, I tried to write him back many times looking for ANY names or dates that could show a connection, but he never again responded.  Fortunately, Esau Elliott is a rather unique name and he was not hard to find in the census records.  By ordering his marriage certificate, which gave me the name of Susanna’s father, and some more hunting in census records, I was able to piece together a little about this family.  Monday, the first item on my list was to check the parishes listed in the census where Esau and Susanna’s children were born and see what I could find.

My goodness.  I spent the next day and a half on two microfilms of the Hambleden, Buckinghamshire parish registers.  They were indeed our family.  They had two more children that weren’t listed in the census, making nine children total born there. Seven of them married in the parish there and had families as well as two granddaughters, one which had 13 children.  None of them had had their work done.   I felt at one point like I was gathering Israel all by myself.

Too bad it’s not always like that—which it ISN”T.

Wednesday evening we had a mini-Walton reunion at Andy and Kathy’s house with Janet and Terry,  three aunts, Fern, Bonnie and Marge, and some cousins; Earl and Mary Lou Henrie, and Dale and Cavelle Lawlor.  We hadn’t seen Andy and Kathy for over 25 years.  Andy and Kathy put on quite a spread  and it seemed we never quite stopped eating . . .

Or telling stories . . .

Or laughing . . .

Trying to eat and laugh at the same time became an issue.  We were surrounded by grandmas with hilarious grandkid stories.

After dinner, Andy had everyone in the circle give a little summary of what they were up to and what their kids were up to.  No grandchildren information allowed at this point, however. He and Kathy told us about their recent mission to Lebanon, which was incredible.

Earl  is serving as a Bishop right now, and he and Mary Lou live up in Tremonton, Utah.

 

Andy, as the baby of the family, and his next three older sisters—Bonnie, Fern and Marge.

After everyone else had to leave, Jim and I hung around for awhile visiting with Andy and Kathy.  Of course Jim just had to try out the  kid space up above only accessible through a secret door in the pantry.

Jim spent a couple of days working on Boeing stuff, and visiting a work site there in Salt Lake, but also had some great success tracking down one line of his family using information that had just come from England via three marriage certificates he had ordered.

Thursday, while searching in the parish registers of Wales for the husband and children of Rachel Clinch,  I came across the name of what appeared to be her brother, Walter.  I was surprised to find that he had come to Wales from Oxfordshire with his sister  and was having children in this same parish.  I was sad to see that his first daughter died as a two-year-old.  I began to wonder if I could ever find his marriage to this Welsh girl that was listed as his wife in the census records when I couldn’t even begin to read any of the Welsh place names.  To make a semi-long story shorter, the library catalog had listed two LARGE volumes of books that contained an index to millions of Welsh marriages.  It took two days to find someone at the library that could locate the volumes, but when I did, and hefted those things off the shelf, I almost gave up.  I opened the first volume, flipped one page, and my eyes landed on the names of Walter Clinch and Catherine Pritchard, the year of their marriage and the parish they married in.  Within five minutes, I had located the microfilms of that parish, and was looking at their marriage certificate.  Those kinds of things always make me wonder if maybe they have an interest in being found and are helping out somehow . . . 

Well, those good times occasionally have to come to an end.  For me they certainly did on Friday morning when I got hit by something unexpectedly nasty.  There was a point I was almost wishing I could lay down and join my dead people, but fortunately, I wasn’t calling the shots during those times of delirium.  It’s been four days.  I’m home and up but doing some serious shuffling.

From The Crossroads of the West

At four in the blessed morning on Friday, we crammed the little Toyota full of Aubrey’s stuff for college, and my and Jim’s stuff for our week here in Salt Lake.  As long as no one needed to breathe too deeply or sneeze we fit just fine.  I found myself fondly recalling all the space I had the last time I flew on a crowded airplane.  Nevertheless, we arrived in Rexburg in good time and even though our GPS lady had never heard of Darren’s address, and the driver of our little stuffed sausage didn’t feel like calling for directions, Darren saw us from his third floor window wandering around and guided us into the right spot to park—a good block from where he lived.  

We were just in time for a loaf of Darren’s famous french bread--famous because it was his first attempt and it actually tasted like french bread.

 

Darren and Richelle were both busy in the kitchen working on dinner as well.  Next time we eat there, I’m taking my dictionary of cool and unusual foods--I can’t remember half the names of the stuff we ate, but it was incredibly tasty. 

Since we couldn’t all fit around their dinner table made for only 4 very tall people, they improvised and used the coffee table.  There was just one problem . . .

Darren’s stool from their kitchen table was a LOT taller than the coffee table.

In many ways, Aubrey is very fortunate to have her big brother around. You’ll know exactly what I mean by the end of this blog.

Here she is with the “crazy quilt” that  Darren wanted her to make for his wedding.   It was to be as random and off the wall as he is.  I have to say that it’s definitely Darren.

It was now time to move Aubrey into her new apartment.  This would prove to be an Experience.

 

 

 

 

She found herself following him around and undoing his mischief.  But were we ever grateful for all his help and muscle work.  He just keeps things lively WHILE working.  And, by the way, he has found a major he is quite excited about.  But I should let him tell you about that on his blog.

She wasn’t too pleased to walk in to her bedroom and have him pop out of  here and scare her to death.

After Darren was safely back with his wife, we helped her rearrange her furniture and spent many hours helping her organize her bedroom, closets, and food supplies.  The lucky 5’2” freshman was left with a shelf she could only access with a ladder—which incidentally, we had to purchase at Wal-Mart ourselves..

Bajio’s.  One of our favorite places to get great Mexican food.  Too bad there isn’t one in Washington.  Oh well, maybe we’ll visit Rexburg again.  The party had to end sometime, though before we left, we took Aubrey back to her place where Jim was able to give her a very comforting and encouraging father’s blessing. 

Darren has already had her over for Sunday dinner, run her to the store, and just had her over to hang out.  They are within walking distance, which is nice for Aubrey.  Somehow, I just feel better about knowing he is around.

Back on the road again.  Jim with his headphones on listening to “Elantris,” a book that all four of our sons loved, and what kept Jim awake on the way to Rexburg, and me, trying to not stay awake and get some sleep that I hadn’t had much of in two days.

We stopped by Layton on our way down to Salt Lake and had a wonderful, though quick, visit with Uarda and her family.  The family had been working on their “square foot gardening” project when we arrived.  Notice how hard they have worked.

Those kids weren’t the only ones working . . .

Uarda and I had a devil of a time working those rocking chairs and supervising as well.

 
When things get tough, the tough get moving – UP. 

Candace was next door jumping on the trampoline and not about to be lured over to talk to some strange aunt and uncle she didn’t know from Adam’s off ox.  This is what you call a Zoomed Lens Shot from very far away.  I couldn’t even tell what she looked like till I saw the picture today.  And Davis?  Somewhere in the same local vicinity as Candace, but I couldn’t quite pick him up on my radar.

 Home Sweet Home for the week. 

Attending “Music and the Spoken Word” is something you just don’t miss, not even if you are rushing to get ready after you have washed your hair, wonder out loud where your curling irons are and hear an agonized, “Oh no. . .” from the other room.  Not even if they were left in Rexburg hundreds of miles away by a helpful husband who stuck them on his son’s washer and dryer out of sight while thinking, “I’m going to forget these . . .”  Not even if you have to walk into the tabernacle looking like something the cat drug in.

 

We always sit on the balcony on the south side so that we can watch the organist play and Mac Wilburg conduct.  It’s kind of fun to watch the cameramen at work as well.

The detail on that tabernacle organ pipe is amazing.

You can have your movie stars and super athletes, I’ll take Andrew Unsworth and Mac Wilberg any day.

 I  lost Jim in the crowds as we were listening to the sisters speak in different languages.  Thank goodness for cell phones.

Well, we enjoyed a leisurely walk home after the broadcast, with nearly an hour until church started.  We always attend the Salt Lake 16th? Ward right behind the conference center where Jim’s aunts attend.  We walked into the chapel at five minutes till eleven and there was no prelude.  In fact, there was no nothing.  The lights were on but the place was vacant.  After asking around, we found out it was stake conference for the Salt Lake Stake and it was happening right that very minute in the Assembly Hall.  So with me in my black heels sounding just like those horses that give carriage rides we went running back to Temple Square and finally found a seat up in the back of the balcony.We had to ask a group of missionaries to scoot over and give us room.  They moved just enough for all of Jim and half of me. 

The conference  was presided over by two general authorities as they were putting in a new stake presidency.  Their stake president had just been called as a mission president to Moscow.  Elder Hallstrom gave an incredible talk on Reverence and what it really means.  Jim was taking notes as fast as he could and I was wishing I was as prepared with a pen and paper.  The spirit was very strong.  

 

We spotted Jim’s Aunt Bonnie in the stake choir at the front of the Assembly Hall, but trying to find her after the meeting was a challenge since it was so crowded and we were at the back.  All the exits were packed and trying to walk down the side aisles was impossible.  You have to side shuffle because the benches are only about 8 inches apart--literally.  We split up.  Jim tried to follow her from the front and I ran out the back and tried to head her off at the pass.  We eventually all connected up – he had found both Aunts whilst I was chasing the wrong lady in pink. 

Aunt Fern and Aunt Bonnie are both Senior Sister Missionaries and work in the Family History Library.  Fern works down in the dungeon on the British Isles floor where I always live and it’s sort of like having your own guardian angel around.  They each have really neat roommates who are also Senior Sister Missionaries.  Bonnie has done family search indexing and has already done over 428,000 names and is now in charge of all the tours that happen at the Family History Library.. They invited us over for dinner, which was fabulous, and after eating, Jim wanted to know more about his great grandmothers.  We heard incredible stories and saw pictures of Jim’s father when he was young that he’d never seen.  The very strangest thing, was that his Dad at 14 looked remarkably like Darren at that age  Jim went back over tonight while I worked on this and scanned all those old pictures.  I have no pictures of our time with Fern or Bonnie, since we walked to their condos straight from stake conference.  But I will get some later this week.

Here’s the picture of Grandpa, he’s the little blonde between the two youngest girls and is the youngest boy in the picture.

 

We later walked around temple square again, purely to take pictures of the flowers.  I just feel like this has to be a taste of what heaven is like.  How can you not believe that God loves you when you see all he created for us to enjoy.

 

This is one VERY patient husband.  He literally just followed me around and sat while I crouched here and there, taking pictures, without the slightest hint of embarrassment on his face for being connected to me.

Aren’t these these fuzzy little baby guys in front the coolest looking things ever?

 

You like warm colors best?  They’ve got them.

You prefer the cool colors?  Not to worry – they’ve got it covered.

I can’t see bleeding hearts without remembering Grandma Walton in our backyard taking them apart while telling a story.  I don’t remember the story, but I do remember she had one.  And I’m sure it was good.

This has to be one of my favorite pictures.  Until I see the other ones.  Then I just love them all.