Our Roots Say We're Sisters, Our Hearts Say We're Friends

Marcy flew down from Missouri to be with her daughter, Kendi.  I was able to snag her for a few brief days and loved every minute of it.  We spent hours and hours talking and shared so many feelings and experiences.  It was just a peaceful, happy time for me to be able to have her here.  I haven’t been around anyone else who appreciates the desperate urgent need to throw off a coat or run outside in the cold air as often as I do, so we really do understand each other.  I took these pictures because when I put my shirt on this morning, it reminded me of her—and yes, I want to be like her when I grow up – and how I have wished I had her killer smile.

Marcy was just released from her calling in the stake relief society presidency—I kept her active by asking her to play the piano for our Relief Society, which she did wonderfully well, beautiful prelude and all.

We had a lot of good talks, laughed a lot, cried some and just plain chatted about whatever, shared lots of recipes and lots of “you have to read this book” ideas, and she even showed me how to cook and use the cute little angel pumpkins that grew out of nowhere.

We have a family history trip planned for sometime this coming spring.  It takes a certain mentality to be happy in a dungeon with the dead all day.  We are definitely related.

It was a sad day when I had to drop her off at the airport to send her back to Missouri.  I miss my friend.

Complicated Questions

It’s a good thing I am from a generation back and the “Asking to Prom” and “Answering to Prom” issues were a little simper then.  I am not so sure that my limited creative abilities could’ve cut the mustard in today’s high school social culture.

Jamie asked a young man to the Winter Ball.  Well, she didn’t just “ask” him, she put together a scavenger hunt where he works at “Seagull Book” and enlisted the aid of her friends to hide clues throughout the store.  She also asked his boss to start it all by calling him into her office and making it look like she was upset with something he had done.  She gave him an envelope, and for one heart stopping moment, he thought he was being fired.  It ended up being his first clue.  The scavenger hunt turned out really well, and he even needed the help of some of his fellow employees to help him find one of the clues  hidden in the Missionary cards section of the store.  Jamie and her friends had a lot of fun putting it together and some tense moments timing wise as they rushed to get it all in place before he got to work and drove away just as he was driving in – thankfully, one minute late to work.

You don’t just say, “”Yes” to a question like that.   This was on our doorstep some days later.

There was one clue—symbolizing one letter,  in the popcorn, the HiChews, and behind one of the colored squares on the door.  A little decoding and she had his answer, “Y-E-S.”  Thank Goodness.

Remembering the Scofield Mine Disaster of 1900

 

I had heard stories from Jim about his Grandpa, William Danie Walton, and how Danie had worked up in the Scofield coal mines as a young man.  I recently read a book that is an historical fiction account of the mine disaster that occurred there in 1900.  We decided that when Jim finished reading the book, we would take the time to go see these places where his ancestors had lived and to see the area where his great grandmother, Harriet Noble Walton, had run a boarding house. 

Moving to Utah last year got us a lot closer to Scofield and it wasn’t hard to talk Jim into taking a day off work yesterday to go on a little road trip.  Jim has a history that his grandfather William Danie Walton wrote.  He tells what happened when he was 19-- the day of the explosion in the mine that killed 200 miners.  Although we weren’t allowed up the canyon to Winter Quarters where the site of the Mine Disaster occurred, it was still interesting to look at the mines in operation right now.

“It was May Day, May 1, 1900.  The miners went to work at 7:00 a.m. as usual, but being May  Day they anticipated the celebration which was to take place in the afternoon.  A celebration to most miners was to get out into the sunshine and fresh air or gather at their favorite saloon.

I was especially happy that day, for being a miner myself, instead of taking my usual place on the fifth level of the No. 4 mine, I had to go into the thick underbrush of pea vines and quaking aspen trees to look for our milk cow and her new calf.  To our family this meant a fresh supply of milk and I was to find the cow and calf and bring them back home.  Mother had packed a lunch as I was not expected to be home until late in the evening.

I was happy to be on  my way, climbing the trails, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air and the welcome signs of spring and at the same time listening for the tinkle of the bell which we had tied on the cow’s neck.

Just as I passed over the area which I later learned was almost directly above the fifth level of the mine, I felt the earth tremble.  I recall wondering to myself what it could be and remember looking at my old Ingersoll watch which read ten o’clock.  Not being able to figure out what had caused the tremble, I continued on my way without giving it any further thought.  I searched most of the afternoon before I finally heard the tinkle of the bell.  the new calf had to be carried most of the way home so I did not arrive until after dark.

As I neared the town, I was struck by the unusual amount of activity.  The entire town was lit up and nine special railway cars had been left on the main line near our home.  As I came nearer I could see that coffee, milk and sandwiches along with flowers were being distributed to the dozens of heart stricken people I met everywhere.  I found out that the earth tremor which I had heard and felt earlier that morning was one of the worst coal mining disasters ever recorded.  Two hundred and eight men and boys lost their lives in the ‘dust’ explosion at the No. 4 mine in Scofield, Carbon County, Utah.

Our home was a hive of activity, serving food and giving aid where possible.  Instead of the reception I had anticipated I was very unceremoniously shoved into the kitchen, given a dish towel and told to get busy.  My sister Libbie, managed to give me the details.  our older brother, Andrew, was in bed unconscious and not expected to live.  To my sadness I was told that Louis Leyshon, a great friend of mine who had taken my place at the mine that day was still missing.  Miraculously Andrew regained consciousness and gave his account of the explosion.

Andrew was a driver on the first level—a driver being one who handles the horse which pulls the empty cars to the miners, who in turn blast the coal loose and load about 2,200 to 2,500 pounds of coal into each car.  These loaded cars were then taken to the main entrance where they were literally dropped down the half-mile track to the exit by an electric hoist.  He had just taken empty cars to all of his men and was waiting at the switch about a quarter of a mile from the main entrance.

Superintendent Parmley and General Foreman Andrew Hood happened to come along just at that time making an inspection tour.  Seconds later they felt the blast and were almost knocked off their feet.  they all knew it was a serious explosion and the Superintendent instructed my brother to get word to as many men as possible on his level to hurry out a safe exit and not the usual exit which would be in the direct path of the explosion.  Andrew ran two miles through the mine telling all of the men on his level what had happened and where to make a safe exit.  They were successful in saving the lives of all of the men on the first and a few of the men on the second level, but were finally overcome themselves by the after-damp and all of the men on the third, fourth and fifth levels perished.

The term ‘after-damp’ is the term used when the oxygen has been burned out of the air.  Dozens of the men lost their lives not knowing where the explosion had taken place, or where to get out as there was absolutely no way of communicating with them inside the mine.

The persistent and heroic efforts of the  Superintendent , the Foreman and  Andrew to save the lives of the miners almost cost them their own.  Andrew was finally carried home and that was where I found him on my arrival.

I went to see Louis Leyshon’s mother the next day and  I shall never forget the anguish and sorrow in her eyes as she said, “Oh, if you had only gone to work, my boy would be alive.”  I could only weep with her as that was a fact.  her boy had taken  my place.  I promised her I would assist in getting his body out as soon as the air pumps had been replaced.

 It was three months or more before all of the bodies had been recovered, for many of them were buried under great rock cave-ins caused by the timbers being completely blown out.

I recall Superintendent Parmley shaking my hand warmly knowing as I did I was indeed fortunate being alive.  I obtained permission from him to go to the fifth level and with the help of others we finally located the badly burned body of Louis, lying by my horse.  I could not help weeping again for the finest friend a boy ever had—the boy who had taken my place.”

The  tragic loss of those 200 miners in the Scofield Mine Disaster left 107 widows and 268 orphans.

We watched one very long train hauling tons of coal out of the mine up the canyon.

We also wanted to make it farther down the road to Cleveland, Utah, where Jim’s great grandfather, Andrew Jackson Walton lived for some time and was buried.

It was interesting to note that Andrew Jackson had surveyed the canal there in Cleveland, was a mechanical engineer-type person who built things, like steam engines and tried to invent a plow that you could ride.   He had a soft heart and cried easily.  Does this sound like anyone else we know in the Walton Family?

 

The timer on the camera beat us.  Jim was just getting in place when the camera went off.

Jim did some research before we went which allowed us to walk right to his gravesite.

We both wish we could meet these incredible people we have read about.  Jim now wishes he could go back in time and talk to his Grandpa, William Danie Walton, again.  He has all kinds of questions that he would ask him. 

As we drove through all these different areas in Carbon County, Utah, I kept seeing signs for Castledale, Castle View, Castle this and Castle that, and asked Jim why he thought they were so Castle-happy around here.  Right then we came around a corner and there stood a rock formation that very much reminded me of – ummm, yeah.  A castle. . .

On our way home, we stopped in Provo and had such a fun visit with Darren, who had just dropped off his wife and son at the airport and was already desperately missing them.  We went for Mexican food at Los Hermanos where Darren told us about his classes and interests in computer animation.  We walked through parts of campus that were totally experiencing Fall, and then treated ourselves to ice cream at The Creamery on Ninth, my all-time favorite place for Roasted Almond Fudge Ice Cream.

It was such a great day.

Oh, Mercy, it’s Marci

 

May 12, 1997

I just about felt like crying today, actually, I did shed a few tears of self-pity as I contemplated the chaos my 2 1/2 year old had created in one short hour.

Usually, I just buck up and take it like a grown woman, but today, it was too much. 

She started with dumping a huge Lego bucket out on the floor and then, sitting in the middle of the pile, she spread them as far as she could in every direction.  She then dumped another bucket of toys and miscellaneous junk in the family room and spread them in with the Legos. She went up to Dallin’s room and took several dozen of his books off his shelf after ripping the box that one set of books sat in and then she scattered them.  She went into Devin and Darren’s room and did major mischief in there, scattering the money in their banks, spreading the things that were sitting on their shelves, along with other odds and ends that I can’t, at this point, remember.  She made a pit stop in the laundry room to dump out the clean clothes,  throw the dirty ones in with the clean ones and the clean ones into the washer that was running.  And now that I have recounted the first five minutes worth, I can’t even remember the rest of the hour, so I will stop.  But sometimes I think, “How can I EVER keep up with her?”  I can’t live paddling her bottom, or warning her that I will.  

But she sure tries to make up for it with lots of “I love you’s” and personality and hugs.  Someday she’s going to make quite a splash in this world.  There is a very bright sparkle in her eye.  Maybe it’s contemplated future mischief – I don’t know.

Acute Observations

 

July 3, 1997

We just sat down to a spaghetti dinner tonight when Jamie, (almost 2) decided she didn't want baby food, as has been happening a lot lately, so Jim got up to put some spaghetti and a little of the steamed zucchini in the blender and fed her that.

Nathan (4) decided he needed to supervise and so he sat on the counter watching.  He wasn’t there too long before he decided he’d seen enough.  He came back to the table and very disgustedly said, “Daddy’s making throw-up.”

Jamie wasn’t so discriminating.  She ate it all.

 

July 6, 1997

Yesterday I was driving the Toyota home from church and I had Nathan (4) and a couple of the older boys with me.  The steering wheel has been really hard to turn and I was telling the kids how miserable it was to try and get it to move.  The boys were telling me what it PROBABLY was when Nathan added his assessment and told me I needed to turn the engine on. 

I informed him that it WAS on.  I don’t know why he felt so responsible to come up with a solution, but I could tell he was still mulling it over in his mind.  He thought another minute more and then announced very authoritatively,

“Well, I know what’s wrong with this car.  It was made in Japan.”

Roy and Sylvia Richens

 

Charles LeRoy Richens and Sylvia Louisa Bodily were my Mom’s parents.  I have many memories of them because they moved to Mesa in 1961 when I was nearly four years old, and bought a house on the next street close enough for us to walk to on our own.

I love my grandparents and I felt especially close to my grandmother, who I loved to talk to.    She often wrote me in college and would occasionally send me some cash, which saved my sorry hide at times when I was just sure I was on the edge of starvation and poverty.  I remember telling her about the young men that I dated and I loved her for being interested in me and what was happening in my life.

I have been reading my Grandpa’s autobiography and was so surprised to find the history behind this photo of them on their wedding day in October of 1913. 

In 1911, at the age of 21, he received a call to serve a mission to the Eastern States, which included all of New England and as far south as West Virginia with mission headquarters in New York City.  On his way to the mission field in October of 1911, and before he was set apart as a missionary, he stopped for a few days to visit with Miss Sylvia Bodily in Provo where she was attending the university. 

His first testimony meeting in the mission field was attended by all of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir members.  At one point in his mission, he was instructed to work without purse or scrip.  He said that he and his companion were one of only two pairs of elders out of a total of twelve pair who actually did missionary work without purse or scrip.  He said they never went hungry for more than one meal at a time and it made him aware of the fact that the Lord fulfills all His promises.

One rather interesting experience Grandpa shared was one time when they entered the little town of Florence in western Massachusetts.  Because of their particular height, weight, dress and general description, along with the suit cases that they were carrying, he and his companion, Elder Ellis were taken for two murderers who were last seen in the vicinity of Florence.  While Grandpa and his companion were looking for a room in the town, they had left their suit cases at some man’s place, and while they were gone, the suitcases had been weighed and found to be the same as the two escaping criminals.

However, by this time, Grandpa and his companion had gone to the police station looking for information to help them in their work when they received word of the capture of the two criminals some distance from there.  The Chief of Police then told them the story of how THEY had been suspected of being the murderers, and how the police had been following them, and then had a good laugh,  treated them very kindly and supplied them with the information they were asking for. Grandpa and his companion had had no idea what was happening behind the scenes as they walked through Florence.

Now, in his own words:

“During the summer of 1910 I became acquainted with a lovely slender brown-eyed brunette young lady (Sylvia) with whom I had a more or less casual acquaintance while attending grade school back in 1906.  Soon after commencing to keep company with her a number of young people of the ward, ourselves included, almost always attended parties and dances as a group.  This was a splendid group of young folk, and we always had lots of good wholesome recreation together.

Both of us were officers in the ward M.I.A. organizations.  Because of this we were usually at meetings a little bit early.  Almost without exception after we entered the chapel and were seated a group of both old and young people gathered around us while we talked and joked with such splendid older persons as Brother Virtus McConkie.  He was a wonderful friend to us and all young folks and was always conspicuous in our group.  It seemed that Brother McConkie was a special friend to us.  Together we seemed to be the center of fun activities and attraction before Mutual took up.  Certainly both of us, Sylvia and I, feel most grateful for the host of friends we had among both the old and the young.

In 1913 enroute to Salt Lake City from the mission field I stopped off at Provo, where I had planned to attend the Brigham Young University, and arranged for a place to live during the winter.  Here I met Miss Sylvia Bodily, as previously arranged, and we went to Salt Lake City.  There we met Thomas E. Hall and Miss Leona Ashby and went together to the Temple where we were married on October 2, 1913, by Elder Adophus Madison.  Sylvia and I were married first and then Thomas and Leona.  It was a happy occasion to which all of us had looked forward for some time.

Brother and Sister Hall returned to Vernal, Utah, to live while Sylvia and I went to Provo.  Here we attended the university during the next year before returning to Vernal and our folks.”

I thought for sure there had to be some missing details in his account of returning from his mission and picking up Grandma ON HIS WAY HOME, to take her to the Salt Lake Temple to get married, but that, my children, is EXACTLY the way it happened.

My memories include the feeling that Grandpa always loved and adored my Grandma and it made me very happy.

 

You Can’t Deny The Logic

 

I just have this thing right now about going through my old journals.  There are too many experiences in there that I don’t want to forget and remind me why I laughed so much as a Mom with 7 kids.  I am also reminded why I cried as well.  I did some of that today as I read some of their painful experiences.  I hope that they recover from those, because they still make me cry.

But today, here are some of the entries that made me laugh,

March 2000

I was cleaning out a pile of papers on the mudroom floor today. 

They happened to be Dallin’s (14)  school papers he’d dumped there.  I found a “Fall Music Theory Final Exam”.  Part of the exam had a list of musical terms to be defined. 

For the question, “The order of flats”, my brilliant son had written, “The highest honor a flat could possibly receive . . .”

I laughed every time I thought about that during the day.  The band director had written the correct answer in, which of course is B, E, A, D, G, C, F and then had written, “Creative", but not correct”, with a smiley face. 

I wonder if she got as much of a laugh out of that as I did.

April 2000

Aubrey (9) came home from school with a dollar bill yesterday.  She wasn’t sure if she should keep it.  When I asked her how she acquired it, she kind of smiled and said she won it in a bet. 

“What kind of bet was that?” I asked.

“Well, I told a boy at recess that my Dad was an alien.  He didn’t believe me.  He said he would bet me $750 that he wasn’t.  We went and talked to the recess teacher and I told her he was a resident alien from Canada.  The teacher said that was right.”

The boy didn’t have $750 on him, so he paid her the first installment.

I told her she better take it back and not bet again.

 

April 2000

Last night Jamie (3) started to cry and begged me to put her to bed.  Believe it or not, she often begs to be put to bed. I took her up and got her into her pajamas, brushed her teeth then said, “You need to say your prayers.” 

She knelt down and I waited for her to start.  She put her face in her hands on the bed and just lay there.  Finally, I asked her what she was doing.  She said, “I’m praying like you do . . .”

“Did you say anything while you were laying there?

“No”.

“Well, Jamie, when you see Mommy like that, she’s talking to Heavenly Father, you just can’t hear it.”

She apparently thought I just lay there and took a nap.

 

May 2000

Tonight I had to take Marci over to the school for the kindergarten orientation for parents and new kindergartners.

 

I couldn’t believe how worried Marci got as she heard them talking about expectations.

She leaned over and said, “I don’t know how to write the letters that are curvy . . .”  ( lower case). 

“That’s OK, we’ll work on that.”

“I don’t know how to read . . .”

“That’s OK, that’s why you go to school . . .”

She finally had had enough of expectations and went to sleep under the table.

 

September 2000

I went in to see what Marci(6) and Jamie (4) were up to in the bonus room. 

They had taken the cushions off the dark blue couch and with chalk had written all over the fabric where the cushions had been.  They had written their names and just plain old BIG graffiti all over.

I gasped, then said, “How COULD you?  How could you write all over the couch?”

Marci put her head down, and Jamie sitting there looked up at me, wrinkled her nose and said very softly, “Well, it was really easy . . .”

Crime and Punishment Kid-Style

Today’s fond memory comes directly from my journal, written in June 1997.

I have included pictures from this time period of all involved.

"Yesterday, I spent an hour helping Darren (8) run away.

 

He and Aubrey (6) had had a fight.                                                                                                                                                                                 

 We decided to hold court right there in the front hall at the scene of the crime.

I,(40), of course, was judge and jury.

I called the defendants over, had them plead their case,
and asked for witnesses.

Devin (10) was the only witness and stated the facts as he saw them.

I then asked Darren for the punishment he thought Aubrey should get, and I
asked Aubrey for the punishment she felt Darren should get.
After they told me, I went and got the New Testament and read Matthew 7:1-3 to
them.

Aubrey had said that Darren should go to his room.

Darren had said that Aubrey should spend 2 days in the sewer.

So after having a discussion on the principle of
"judge as ye shall be judged,”  I told
Darren that he would receive the judgment he imposed on Aubrey and visa versa.

Aubrey then went to her room.

The closest thing we could find to the sewer for
Darren was to have him head up the "Poopy Diaper Squad."

This is when he decided it was best that he run away, which I wouldn't allow him to do until he did his chores.

Devin then decided he better go with him to keep him safe, and so Darren
decided to help Devin clean the shower so that Devin could get his chores done and go
with him.

All in all, it worked out."

Jamie PR’s

Our resident Cross Country runner ran her final race of the season this afternoon at the Regional Championships.  She hasn’t been very happy with her times lately and was hoping that today she could do better. 

Her incredible father, as overloaded as he is with work, announced in a meeting he was conducting that he had to leave early for a family commitment, and dashed home to pick Nathan and I up and get us all down to Westlake High School in Saratoga Springs just in time for Jamie’s race.

 

She didn’t mess around one bit out there and was uptop happy when she realized she had indeed PR’d today. (Or, shall we say, she set her Personal Record.)

.

All the runner’s are scanned in when they start a race, and the computer tracks everything about them except for their favorite toothpaste.  When they finish, they are handed this nifty little card.

I’ve just got to stop crying at races.  It’s getting embarrassing.  You would think I was related to Jim.

Nathan is  our family’s Official Course Rememberer.  Somehow, he always knows around which bend Jamie is going to pop up next and gets us into the proper cheering positions before she gets there.

Happy PR Day!

Horribly Painful Good-byes and Decidedly Happy Hello’s.

Marci, going through the temple after receiving her mission call to the Washington Vancouver Mission.

Not many days later she was out the door for her first semester at BYU-Idaho with Aubrey and I don’t think ANY of us realized how hard this would be on her and Jamie, who have basically been inseparable since, well, forever it seems.

The car is packed to the roof with college stuff, aubrey has won the position as driver, and they are ready to roll – except for the good-byes.

This is the first time they have ever been separated for any significant period of time.

I have learned from sad experience that it is difficult to be behind the camera whilst one is crying.

Just watching these two made Jim and I both lose it. 

Well, life moves on, tears and all.

Marci was extremely fortunate to have Aubrey as a roommate and to take her around and ease her in to college life.  Heck, I was extremely fortunate.  It helped me survive dropping off a baby at college and the inevitable separation anxiety I go through wondering if they are going to be happy, eat well, get along with their roommates, brush their teeth, and find their way to all the new places they need to go.

I was just positive that these two would not be able to room together peaceably, as they have extremely different levels of clutter tolerance.  But I have been reassured that things have worked out surprisingly well between them, and that the more clutter tolerant roommate has the ability to live at the cleanliness level of the less clutter tolerant.

Jim and I walked through different buildings on campus with Aubrey and Marci and had fun admiring the fruits of Aubrey’s Ultimate Coaching Escapades.  If you will take careful notice, in Fall 2010, Fall 2011, and Fall 2012, A. Walton, short for Aubrey Walton, was the coach of the Championship teams.

Sisters . . .Aubrey’s last semester before she graduates and Marci’s first.

Marci was denied the opportunity to get her ID card until she came back the next day with shoes on.  None of those ankle-showing outfits on this campus. . .

Jamie had a race in Park City the Friday of Conference weekend.  Marci and Aubrey drove down from Rexburg, but didn’t tell Jamie when they were coming.  The last she knew, they were coming in about 11 that night.  We were hoping they could make it by the time Jamie raced at 4, but they were awfully far away still.  She started the race and they still hadn’t made it, but just as she was coming around the last part of the course, they drove up.  We hurriedly found them a place to stand with us at the finish line and they were able to yell for her as she came running in.

Jamie has just finished and is trying to figure out who she heard yelling for her.

Jamie has to go through the stiles to get her time recorded.

They hugged and cried for 5 minutes.  You would think it had been 2 years instead of 3 weeks since they were last together.

They got a few words in and had to start hugging all over again.

This is one Decidedly Happy Hello.