A year has passed---(From my Blog)

I can't believe a year has passed since Grandpa has passed.It was actually yesterday (Saturday). So many emotions came back. I remember that dreaded call I got from dad, I didn't believe what he said, I had him repeat it a few times and I finally broke down and just bawled at my desk. I left work early because I just wanted my mom. I had called Mitch, we decided that we would travel together. We would meet at the 7-11 by my house and follow each other down to Orangeville. The whole way down I just thought about my mom. I wanted to make sure she was ok. I knew she was with my dad, and he would make sure that she was ok. I just wanted to put my arms around her. I wanted to hug her, I just wanted to be with my parents.

When I got down to Orangeville, my mom was still at my grandparents house. They were starting to look through papers and the Watson/Wilsons were there. And Ruanne was there. They were talking about the obituary and how that would go about. They were meeting with Faucett Mortuary the next morning, Linda was coming down that morning to be there with the family. Kent and Landon ran over to BK's and picked up pizza for everyone.

That next morning, I went with my parents to the mortuary. A lot of the funeral plans were already made, Grandpa did that before. He wants RED ROSES for his flowers so that made it easy for us to pick out flowers. Kristi soon came. We all walked downstairs and looked at caskets. It didn't take long, we looked at the casket and we knew THAT ONE was "IT". We then all met over at Gordon's for the flowers. The grandkids decided on making a wreath to set at Grandma and Grandpa's headstone every year for christmas. It had christmas bulbs on it with all of our names on it. Just thinking of it makes me cry. It is something that we will always have of up there. We also put pinecones and holly berries in the red roses arrangements. It looked beautiful.










The funeral and burial were beautiful. Grandpa would have loved it! They Orangeville City had the Bell ringing while driving up to the cemetery, gives me chills. That was Grandpa's doing, HE brought the bell back! It snowed so much! The cemetery was so peaceful with all the snow (very cold too). Hearing the horn play since by grandpa was a Veteran. It was the most beautiful graveside.

It was so nice to have the family there. Yes were were missing some people, but they were in our hearts. Now that a year has passed, I know that it doesn't always get easier. But at least the first year is gone. I have missed my grandpa so much this past year. He was an amazing man. There are times I will sit and think that my grandparents are watching over me. I have angels, I have 4 up there!

I miss you Grandpa! Your legacy lives on. We all miss you (grandchildren picture we are missing Todd and Nancy, great-grandchildren picture we are missing Tyler)

We love you Grandpa

I am sure we've all been thinking of you today. I've been thinking of the sound of your voice and how comforting it is to me. Thank you for preserving it so I never have to try to remember. I've got you to tell me stories for the rest of my life.

Love you!

Christmas Eves past

Christmas Lights

Yesterday Garth and I put up a few Christmas lights around our house. We all know how beautiful Dad's yard was for so many years at Christmas time, but yesterday reminded me of something in particular. We forgot to check the first string of lights before we put it up. When that particular string was half-way up, we hurried and plugged it in to see if it was working. We found that only half of them worked, so we took it down and checked the next string of lights. They worked, but with the first sting not working, we didn't have enough of that particular kind of light to put across the front of the house. So we checked out the other strings to see if there was enough. Some were all working, but a few had half of the string not working. Those were immediately gathered up and thrown away. We decided we would not spend the hours necessary to find that one particular bulb that wasn't working. My memory: how many hours did Dad slave over his lights? I remember finding him out in the wood shop checking each individual light to find that "special one" that didn't work. He would cuss them, he dreaded them, but he kept on checking them. I think it was more the challenge of finding it that kept him going. He wasn't going to let that string of lights beat him. He also wasn't going to waste a penny by throwing them away. Some of his lights because the "replacement string". He saved them to us the bulbs in other strings. No wonder the lights were such a chore for him. Even though he complained about the lights and the time to put them up, he enjoyed his yard at Christmas time.
Sometimes I feel I am becoming my father when I think about the energy to put up that tree, just to have to take it down again in a few weeks. But we do it because I want the Christmas spirit in our home. So here I go, get showered, dressed for the morning (church isn't until 1:00) and start getting that Christmas tree up. I think that is a fitting activity for a Sunday morning.
Oh, we did get a few lights up on the house. Finally found enough lights that worked. But many ended up in the garbage can.

The holidays

We've all talked a lot about our senses and the world Grandpa created for us- this post will be no different. I'll probably be mentioning lots of flashes of memories. Not all of them will have to do with Grandpa directly.

I think my first Thanksgiving memory is at Aunt Lorene's. To this day when I smell celery seeds/salt I think of her house. I remember seeing legs and lots of people. Olsens and Peacocks, but nothing more specific than that. I must have been pretty small.

I remember Thanksgivings in the house. I really liked those. We were REALLY crowded, but all together. Those doing dishes or making food weren't in another building.

I also remember the Thanksgiving Grandpa was redoing the den. We did bunches of crafts. Tole painting.

Then there was the shop. Playing games after dinner. Kristi eating all of the olives, Mitchell eating an entire pumpkin pie.

Christmas:

The ward Christmas party for the OV 1st ward. I was an angel. My cabbage patch preemie was baby Jesus, and my grandpa was the narrator. After we sat on Santa's lap we got a sack of peanuts and hard candy.

The smell of coal burning stoves makes me think of driving home from Grandpa's on Christmas Eve. I don't know why. Plenty of people burned coal for heat- and not just on Christmas. I remember driving around town looking at the decorations. My favorite was the shooting star. As the years went on there were fewer and fewer of those. Grandpa's house always had a snowman on his power pole. I loved that my Grandpa had the best lights in town.

I loved the train under his tree. I loved the Santa that would walk around and ring a bell. The elves, etc. on the front porch, the matching jammies, the Gift of the Magi.

I'm sure it wasn't- but it always seemed effortless to get together and enjoy the holidays. I know that is because all of my cousins were in the same tiny little town. Most people I know claim they come from a small town. Of 30,000 people. I always laugh. They don't know what it is like to be from a small town.

There are lots more, and I know this isn't something specific about Grandpa- and I like to keep things on topic here, but I figure all of these things were possible because of Grandpa and you all might have holiday favorites to share here as well.

Sense of Comfort

About a month ago I took the Praxis exam. In order for my to start my student teaching I need to pass the Praxis with a score of 168. I studied my butt off and I was very nervous. When the results came back I had gotten a 166. I was devastated. I had worked my butt off and I didn't pass. I registered for the test at that moment and I take the test tomorrow morning at 7:00 am. (November 13)

Ok, so here is when the tie this story back to Grandpa.

I work with a girl named Kelli. Kelli is a great friend. Her husband's name is Chandler. I visit with them often and I am very fortunate to have them as friends. I was sitting on my balcony about a week ago and I was pondering on the Praxis and how my career is on the line. At that moment in time I had an idea. I needed a Priesthood blessing before my test. I asked myself, "really, Mitchell?" I hadn't had a blessing since I moved to Logan 2 years ago. I hadn't had a blessing from anyone other than my Grandpa is years. As I sat on my balcony I felt like I was, in a sense, betraying my Grandpa by having another man lay his hands on my head. That was my Grandpa's job not some other person's job. So I asked Kelli to ask her husband to give me a blessing. Thankfully he said yes.

I went to their house last night after work and they fed me dinner and we talked about many wonderful things. I had told Chandler that I hadn't had a blessing from any other man besides my Grandpa in years, and he was quite honored to have the privilege. After we cleaned up the mess, we took a chair in the living room and Chandler asked for my full name. "Mitchell Rue Watson", I said. "Rue?" "Yes, Rue. It is my Grandpa's name." When Chandler placed his hands on my head and started his blessing he never once used a singular pronoun. The first sentence went like this. "Mitchell Rue Watson, by the power of the Melchizedek Priesthood which we hold, we lay our hands upon your head, and we give you a Priesthood blessing". Another thing that I noted during the blessing was Chandler would sway back and forth like Grandpa would.

When the blessing was done I said thank you and on my way home an overwhelming sense of comfort inundated my body, and for those few minutes while I drove in silence, I knew that Grandpa was there. 2 men gave me that blessing. When I got home I sat on my bed with a smile on my face with gratitude in my heart, and I kindly got on my knees and said, "thank you".

I may not be an active member of the church, and I may not ever return to the church, but I will always have an everlasting testimony of the power of the Priesthood, and I have my Grandpa to thank for instilling in me that foundation of a testimony of the power of the Priesthood and for being able to give his grandson a blessing when he needed one.

Smells

I am a smell person. My sense of smell is very sensitive. Over the years I have come to realize that it is much more sensitive than the average person's. Not only is my nose sensitive but because of it, I associate many memories with smells.

For example, the first couple of times we turned on the furnace after Mom died, I remember how it smelled. Now, I'm sure you have all smelled that smell of the furnace coming on for the first time or two in the fall. Up until that point, I never paid attention to it. Well, that year, when I smelled it, I didn't know what it was. Dad explained that it was the furnace and that it would smell musty like that for the first couple of times it comes on.

Every year since, when my furnace comes on, I remember that first time after Mom died. Always.

Also - shaving cream. I loved being in the bathroom with Dad when he shaved. He used good old fashioned shaving cream. So - I lived there with him for 18 years. I have lived with a husband for 26+ years. Every time I smell shaving cream, I think of my dad. I don't think of Vernon or of Kent but I think of my dad. Never fails. Shaving cream and my dad go together.

Just a few minutes ago, as I was in the kitchen making chicken noodle soup, and I heard it raining outside, I opened the kitchen door. The smell of rain and wet leaves brought back a flood of memories. Oh my goodness. I had flashes of being a young girl, playing outside after school. Of Mom being inside making a dinner just like I was doing right then. I thought of headlights pulling into the driveway and the lamp post being on. (And if the lamp post was on, it meant someone was not home yet). I thought of Dad and how he usually had a piece of bread with jam after dinner while we were all still sitting there at the dinner table. Or he would have one of those pastries that came in a foil pan that slid into a plastic bag. I never liked those.

I think most of my "smell" memories come from being a young girl. It's amazing how the smell of something can trigger a memory for me. Sometimes a long, lost memory or just a flash of a memory.

Why is it that most smell memories are from my growing up years? I'm not sure but in my humble opinion it is because that's where Julie became Julie. Oh she has changed a lot over the years, she evolved after leaving home and experiencing all that she has experienced.

Yet my learning about the world, even though it was a small world at 115 East Center, that's where I discovered the smell of rain, of wet leaves, of shaving cream, of musty furnaces and of so much more.

My parents created that world for me. A place where we paid attention to nature and the changes of each season. And with a Dad who pointed out those things to me. So I'm grateful that I have a very alert nose and very vivid memories.

Grandpa's Podcast

As you all know, Grandpa recorded stories of his life and gave each of his children copies of the tapes. I've been working on transferring them to a digital format. For now I just played the tapes and recorded them on my computer. Not the highest quality, but it will have to do for now.

Anyway, they are available on iTunes now. You can subscribe to the podcast, download each "episode" or track and then burn them onto a CD or put them on your iPod. Grandpa's voice can be available at the click of a button!

The recordings for the previous podcasts about Grandma Nell are available, as is Tape 1 from Grandpa's tapes. I'm still working on the rest of them and they'll be available in the same place as all the others when I get them up and going.

Here's the link.

You can also get there via the iTunes store. Bring up iTunes, click on the "iTunes store" link on the left hand column, when the store comes up, simply type Rue Paul Ware into the search field in the upper right hand corner. Let me know if you have any questions!

Also, Nicky, could you possibly put a link to these in the sidebar too? Thanks!

Happy Birthday Grandma Nell

While Grandpa was in the Rehab hospital up here, I spent a lot of time with him visiting and looking at photos. One of those days I talked with him about Grandma Nell a little bit...

Their first date

Coin Toss

Dating and Marriage

Early life in the military

Utah

About Nell

My Favorite Cookies

The other day, as I was preparing things for Garth and I to get away to the mountains, it was my job to go to the grocery store for supplies. Garth told me I needed to get cookies and candy, which creates a big problem for me. I don't like to make little decisions about things like which ones to get. As I looked at the packages I knew immediately which ones I wanted....the frosted animal cookies. During my high school years these became my favorite cookies, for some strange, now-unknown-reason. I remember loving these cookies. So what does that have to do with Dad? The year was 1976 and I had just returned from a choir trip to Washington DC and back with the Ogden Institute Choir. My sisters will remember that as a very painful time for me when I ended up in the hospital with an abscess in an "unmentionable" place. Imagine sitting on the bus for 2 weeks, and then returning to find that sore just a few days later! I know I was blessed to not get that sore while on the trip, but that it waited until I got home. Anyway, Dad and Mom actually drove all the way to Ogden to pick me up and take me home because I was so sick. Of course, that next night was Linda's Junior Prom and from there on it was all downhill for me, ending up in the hospital for several days. So what about iced animal cookies? I'm getting to that.

After that terrible experience in the hospital, when the doctor finally put a big needle into that sore and drained it right there...I'll spare any more details .......I was finally feeling better and Mom was able to sit by my bedside after everything was cleaned up. Dad had to leave for a little while, so he said. When he returned he had a cold Coke for Mom, and a big bag of iced animal cookies for me. He remembered that they were my favorite. He said he knew I had gone through so much pain and he wanted something that I really liked to help me forget the pain.

Many times when I walked into the kitchen at home, he would tell me to get in the top drawer and get myself some animal cookies. He kept a supply of them in there regularly. I can't eat iced animal cookies without thinking of him. He knew I loved them. They can take away the worst pain.

Background

Here we go again, I hope this time I won't have to change it....

Made me think of Grandpa

Thought this post was interesting.

Colored photos of 1930s-1940s America!

Now we know for sure that it wasn't black and white back then. Makes it all seem much more recent.

A Strange Memory

I'm not sure just how to start this "memory" post, but I keep being reminded of this memory so I guess I will just start writing.

It keeps happening lately when I am walking through Wal-Mart grocery section, back by the juice and drink section. When I walk past the lemonade, fruit juices and things in the glass bottles, back in the back in the open coolers. Something jogs a memory or feeling about a vacation we were on or something like that. I have this fleeting feeling that we were looking for a drink and thinking how exciting it was because we didn't get to purchase things like that in our normal, everyday life. But because this was a vacation, we were able to get something special to go with our lunch. Do any of the other sisters remember a time like that? It seems like we were out of state, in a large grocery store, buying things for lunch. I remember thinking it was cold because of the open coolers and we were trying to decide which glass bottle of drinks we were going to get. I can't place where or when it was happening, but if feels so real.

It is funny what little snippets of memories we can feel more than remember. I wish I could ask Mom or Dad about it. It is probably something that no one else remembers, just something that is tucked away in my mind, but I feel it so many times when we walk through that place in the store. I never stop to buy anything, just get that same feeling each time. It must have been something that really impressed me at the time. Probably excited because it was something new!

March 19

So I have spent the bitter part of the week dealing. Like really dealing. Emotionally,mentally, physically dealing. We are going through infertility treatments currently and have become a walking pin cushion. We really felt like this last cycle was the one. As our Endocrinologist was looking things over it looked like 3 were going to be released. And then the due date was discussed if in FACT any of the 3 decided to stick around.

The Due date was March 19.

We found it Ironic because we were adamant on Naming this child after her grandmother ( if it was a girl) so her Middle name was going to be Lori. And we all knew her name was going to be Emmalee. Well around November things were crazy with us and we decided that we didn't feel just right about everything and things backed off. Then grandpa died.

The other day we were talking about Names because we weren't sure if we were pregnant or not. I asked D if I could name my sweet baby after Grandpa Rue. When we have a child and it is a girl Her name will be Emmalee Rue Brown. Then when we found out the due date we knew it would be perfect.

But like life, it didn't go perfect. There will be no baby On March 19. And in true RUE fashion, I tore apart my kitchen table and went to town sanding it. The smell of the sawdust and the feel of the wood... I knew that I learned something from him.

Wow... I am still sanding.... And in the end it will perfection. Nothing less

Blessings

I grew up in a home where many priesthood blessings were given in times of need. I remember the night before I started jr high. I was very nervous and my dad came down to my room and gave me a blessing. Many, many times over the course of my life, my dad gave me a blessing.

They didn't stop when I got married. Unfortunately, Vernon didn't grow up in an LDS home. He didn't understand the power of the priesthood. He hadn't even heard very many blessings given by anyone. He was very hesitant to give them. So even after I got married, I turned to my dad to give me a blessing. Dad/Grandpa not only gave me blessings but my children as well.

Every year, the night before school started, we made the journey to Grandpa's or he came to our house. It was a long standing tradition. He gave them blessings when they were sick or hurt.

Last week, I was sick. I was very sick. I wore out the floor from my bed to my bathroom. After 24 hours of thinking "this is the end," I asked Kent to give me a blessing. As he did so, I thought back on the blessings of my dad. As much as I'm grateful that Kent, my sweet husband, can give me blessings now, I still miss my dad doing that for me.

The morning of his funeral, I woke up with cramps. Cramps combined with nerves from having to speak, made it hard for me to stand up straight. I had planned on asking Kent to give me a blessing before the funeral. We were at the church, along with the funeral directors. The church was quiet, the snow was falling and Kent and I went into the Relief Society room to give me a blessing.

Kent pulled the chair over by Grandpa's casket and he gave me a blessing there. For us it was a very spiritual experience and one that I am so thankful for. I knew my dad was there.

The other night, as Kent gave me that blessing, I knew that once again, my dad was there. I am so thankful for a father, who honored his priesthood and who loved me.

A side note: Several years ago I was talking to a non-member. They said they didn't understand why women would want to be a member of this church where we were basically second class citizens because we couldn't hold the priesthood. Their question didn't bother me at all because I knew that I was not a second class citizen.

A couple of years ago, I had a terrible cold. I think I almost OD'd on NyQuil. I had taken so much to find even a little relief that it made me sick to my stomach. I spent the better part of the night on the bathroom floor. When I was able to get up, I went in and woke up Kent and asked him to give me a blessing.

A week later, Kent had a terrible cold and he was on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. I asked him if he wanted me to call someone to come and give him a blessing.

Light bulb moment: For me, the priesthood was immediately available. I didn't have to call someone, wake them up, wait for them to arrive. All I had to do was wake up Kent and the blessing was there. Not the case for him. He didn't get a blessing that night because he didn't want to bother anyone.

So - second class citizen? No way.

The priesthood was available to me immediately. I benefit from the priesthood in my home without having the responsibilities that go with it. No one will call me in the middle of the night to come and give them blessing. I think women have the best of both worlds as far as the priesthood is concerned.

I'm grateful that the priesthood is in my home - available and immediate. Thank you Kent.

Just Grandpa

I only have/had one Grandpa. My dad didn't have much to do with his family and my Grandpa Watson died when I was younger. They were all the way in California.

I was thinking about the name of this blog, "Memories of Grandpa Rue". For me it kind of feels like there is more information there than I need. I am not making a dig at the title or anything of the sort. This blog is meant for a lot of people to use, and lots of them have/have had more than one Grandpa. I am simply making an observation that in my life he wasn't Grandpa Rue. He was just Grandpa. It is kind of like if I were talking to my mom about Nicky and said, "My cousin Nicky." All I need to say is "Nicky".

In my life if I were referring to some other Grandfatherly figure, they received the modifiers. Grandpa Olsen, Grandpa Guy, Grandpa Watson. If "Grandpa" was ever mentioned in conversation, it was Grandpa Rue.

In fact, it feels funny saying "when 'Grandpa' was mentioned in conversation... it was Grandpa Rue". My thought actually went more like this, "when 'Grandpa' was mentioned in conversation... it was Grandpa". It is kind of like when you talk to your friends about your parents you say, "My mom." When you're talking to your sibling you don't say, "My mom" you say "Mom".

Things changed when I had Daphne. Suddenly we were dealing with 3 more Grandpa's than I was used to! Again, they all received the modifiers. Well, except when we were talking to Daphne about Grandpa, then he became Papa Rue. Otherwise, when "Grandpa" was mentioned in conversation not directly involving Daphne, it meant Grandpa Rue.

He was also the last Grandpa Trevor had. When we first married he kept calling Grandpa "Grandpa" and I had to tell him that he didn't have to do that. In our family we just used names. Josh and David didn't call him Grandpa and Larry, Garth, Vernon, and Kent certainly didn't call him "Dad". He was Rue to all of them, or sir depending on how stern he was being. Trevor told me that he hadn't had a Grandpa in a long time and kind of wanted to have one again.

I'm telling you, there must have just been something about Grandpa. He's just Grandpa and that's all there is to it.

Just thought you should know

Tyler had surgery today and had phenol in his legs and his tonsils removed. He is home. He would LOVE some Ware love. He gets to walk through HELL everyday and it is sometimes a little tough. He has been pretty good this afternoon but tonight has been tough.

Happy Fathers Day, Grandpa!

I have been thinking a lot of Grandpa today. I remember all those Fathers Days growing up and having our "party" out on the deck with the family. It was never really a planned thing, if it was I didn't know about it :) We all just showed up and ended up on the deck. Miss you Grandpa!

A Week in Logan

Last Thursday I was driving south on Logan main street. I was needing to turn left and head east; however, the light was green so I was yielding to many vehicles heading north. I inched my way into the intersection to have the opportunity to turn left when the light would switch. I noticed the line of cars continuing north, so the wait was very long. When the light decided to turn yellow the cars heading north stopped allowing me to turn left so that I wasn't left in the intersection; however, a white Dodge decided they wanted to own the intersection, so they gunned it and ran the red light, nearly hitting me. I was a little shaken up after and my immediate response was, "Call Grandpa and ask him who was in the wrong!" When I knew that I couldn't call him, I decided to call mom and/or Chelsie. I found no answers, and I am still curious who would have been at fault.

In other news, I am sitting on my porch right now, enjoying the sun, drinking some lemonade with ice. It reminds me of spending time out on the deck as a family. I loved those afternoons. I remember always being the, "Mitchell, will you go get...." boy for Grandpa and Grandma. I know we have all made jokes about how Grandpa would say, "3 ice cubes", but it made me feel good that I could help my Grandpa with the most simple things. I will forever remember my Grandpa by the way that I served him. I helped him in the yard, helped with the clocks, and many other things.

A few weeks ago I was out for a run in Orangeville, and I decided to pay Grandma a visit. I went inside and we talked for a bit, she showed me his room and the wallpaper removal process. She left the room to answer a phone call and I could have a moment in his room. I opened up his closet doors and I saw his tie holder. I remember, as a child, I loved seeing his tie holder and how it would rotate. I saw a shirt of his, and just like my mother, I pulled the shirt in and held it. I smelled the shirt and for that brief moment, I had Grandpa next to me. I knew Grandpa was watching at that moment. I could feel it. I could feel him.

On my way back to Logan, I drove in silence. I thought about life, family, friends, and Grandpa and what I had experienced that afternoon in his room, and I have come up with this conclusion: Before I had gone home I hadn't spent much time on the fact that Grandpa was no longer here. I knew he had past, but I never "felt" what I did that afternoon in his bedroom. So I take that experience as a reminder that my Grandpa still knows me, he watches me, he is reading this blog as I type it, he is still there. So I think we will all have a reminder sooner or later, and they will happen when we are needing that reminder, and when we are in need of that comfort and love that we once had when Grandpa was here.

The Great Flood of Orangeville

(I posted this on my blog, but thought I would repost it here for those of you who NEVER look at my blog. Which is okay....really, it's OK :)

Dad always said that people remember things differently, and I know that is true. But this is my memory....
The Great Flood of Orangeville happened on the last day of school when I was in 5th grade. Anyway, that is what sticks in my memory because the next year on the last day of school, Uncle Jim...(Principal Peacock) showed us his home movie of the great flood. The entire school took their chairs up to lunchroom to watch the movie, along with other movies. I remember him asking who remembered that day the previous year. We didn't have the lunchroom until I was in sixth grade, so the flood had to be when I was in fifth grade. That's the way it is in my memory.

It had rained all day long, really rained. Back then, we had ditched, the canal, and the one-lane bridge. I remember walking home in the pouring rain and getting drenched to the skin. I remember sitting on the red stool watching out the kitchen window as the water rushed down the road. The jeep was outside at the end of the sidewalk and the water was up to the middle of the wheels. Dad was running in and out, driving away and then coming home, for whatever reason. I know there were a few times he grabbed the shovel and went up to the canal on the corner, where the canal crossed under main street. I suppose they were trying to close down the gate that let the water into the ditches.

The canal ran along from the corner on Main Street behind Uncle Bruce's house and to the corner by the elementary ball field. There was only a small dirt road along that block east of the school, with the open canal right where the middle of the road is now. There was a foot bridge that went from across the bridge over to Aunt Lorene's house, no handrails or guard rails. The canal was flooded over and the foot bridge was underwater. Sometime during the afternoon we got in our car and drove over to Aunt Lorene's house. I remember seeing the water coming down the road in front of the school and across the canal. I wondered how the water went OVER the water in the canal! The water was moving really fast down the road and fields there, right into George and Ann Bell's basement windows.

I remember people saying that the canal above town had broken and the water was all rushing east through town. My kids might remember how the rain rushes off the clay hills up the canyon...well that is what was happening, but it was all over town. Cottonwood Creek was so full, with trees and muddy water rushing so fast. The water came clean up to our backyard, in the middle of all the apple and plum trees. There was a time Mom worried about the water coming up to the house.

I remember the water had washed over the road at the Mill Dam, and for several months we couldn't get across, until a new road was built. I don't remember if the dam there broke, or if it was always broken. It seems like another chunk of it was broken off.

You can see from the picture above that the water had been higher than in the picture. Look on the step on the left. It has dirt and debris that was left from the higher water. The walking path on the other side of the bridge was probably just touching the water. I hated to walk across that on a good day, let alone during a flood!

It was certainly a flood to remember. I don't think a "last day of school" goes by that I don't think about that flood. I am sure everyone has lots of stories they could tell about The Great Flood of Orangeville.

Facebook

I am sure since all of us are on facebook that you have seen them all but here is a few pictures of the D!

A Student's Memory

My friend, Wendy Knudsen, wrote this message on my personal blog about Mr. Ware. Since I just found it hidden away, I thought I would share it with others. Wendy moved to EC when we were in junior high. Her dad taught at the high school for several years, then they moved away. She is related to the Wrights in Clawson.

Debated on where to leave this comment . . . your blog won out! I wanted to share a funny little memory I have of your dad.

How many people out there can actually remember who their Driver's Ed teacher is? Lucky for us around our age group, it was your dad! I remember finishing up the driver's training right around my birthday. It seemed like EVERYONE had a birthday before me and I was one of the last to get a driver's license.

The last day I was driving, we (me and someone else were driving together that day) stopped at the rest area between Castle Dale and Ferron (near the Orangeville turnoff?). Your dad filled out the paperwork on the little piece of paper and signed off on it that I had completed all the requirements and passed everything satisfactorily. Then he folded that paper twice. I was in the driver's seat ready to drive back to Ferron. As I was exiting the rest area, I came to a complete stop . . . just past the stop sign! With that, you dad shook his head and said, "Wendy, I just signed off on this! I'm going to have to do something." With that, he tore off a small corner of that folded paper and said he was sure that I would remember to stop in FRONT of the stop sign instead of past it! :o)

I'm sure the DMV office wondered why my paper had this little tear in it! And who knew that it would be YOUR dad that would help prepare me for navigating the freeways in southern California all these years later!

New traditions

The other day I found a recipe on the internets and thought I'd share it here.

Pillow Mints!

Makes 1 pound (about 225 mints)

Make these Good Friday morning or the night before. They're ready to serve Easter morning.

1 stick salted butter, softened
A one-pound box powdered sugar, plus more for dusting
2 Tablespoons heavy cream or whole milk
1 teaspoon mint extract
Red, green, yellow food coloring

In a large bowl, beat butter until creamy. With mixer on low, add sugar (sift it so there are no lumps) to the butter along with cream and extract until creamy and smooth.

Turn dough out onto a work surface lightly dusted with powdered sugar; knead until smooth and satiny. Divide mixture into thirds: Tint one-third pastel pink with 1 drop red food coloring, one-third pastel green with 1 drop green and one-third buttery yellow with 1 drop yellow. Cover each portion with plastic wrap to keep it from drying out as you work.

Note: I have altered the original recipe's number of drops of food coloring. In the photos above (the first time I made these mints), I used no yellow food coloring and 2 drops red for the pink mints and 2 drops green for the green mints. I think a single drop of food coloring in each third division would achieve much softer pastel shades.

Line 2 baking sheets with nonstick foil. Lightly dust work surface with powdered sugar. Working with one color at a time, roll out ¼ cupfuls of the dough, using your fingers, into a ½-inch-thick rope. Cut rope into ½- to ¾-inch pillows. Transfer mints to prepared baking sheet with a spatula. (Be careful—mints are soft and will squish easily). Repeat with remaining mint mixture.

Let air-dry at room temperature for 2 days until firm enough to handle. Transfer mints to covered containers.

Storage Tip: Store in a container that won't allow moisture to become trapped inside at cool room temperature up to 2 weeks.

5 mints = one serving
Per serving: 62 calories, 0 protein/0 fiber, 11 g carbohydrates, 2 g fat (1 g saturated fat), 6 mg cholesterol, 15 mg sodium


I haven't tried them yet, but will soon. The plan is to make them each year on Grandpa' birthday.

Also, I've been adding pics to the flickr page; start commenting, PEOPLE! I speak more specifically to the 4 special ladies, as they have info to share about the pics.

Side Note

Dad/Grandpa was released as Bishop the Sunday before I started High School, so August of 1978. It was just 13 months later that Mom/Grandma died. Heavenly Father has very good timing for getting done what he wants done.

An Enlightened Moment

I was at Food Ranch today and Sandra Huntington asked me how old I was when my mom died. I told her I was 16 and we talked about how that is very young to lose your mother. She asked how old my mom was when she died. I told her that she had just turned 45. We talked about how young that was to be taken from your family.

She told me she could still remember where she was when she got the news that Nell Ware had died. And we chatted for a minute about all of this and then I was out the door and to my car.

As I drove home I thought about Dad and how he was 48 when he lost his wife. In all these years no one has ever asked me how old Dad was when Mom died. Or said anything about how young that is to lose your wife. Many, many people have said just what Sandra said about my age, and about Mom's age. But no one has ever asked about Dad.

48 is a year older than my age right now. So think of Todd Jeffs or Garth Luke. They are 48. That is very young to lose your wife and be left with a daughter still at home and one just starting out on her own and two others with babies. A husband who was looking forward to just the two of them at home with grand-kids entering the picture. Bishop"hood" was over and he was home more.

Wow, I just had a thought. When Dad was called to be the Bishop, he was rather young for a Bishop at that time and in this area. Now I see the wisdom of a Heavenly Father in calling him when he was called. Dad was released in August of 78. The next bishop after that was called after Mom had died so that was like the only opportunity for Dad to be Bishop. Very interesting.

Maybe it's just me and my being only 16 at the time, but it doesn't seem like many people "worried" about Dad. He was a strong man in the community. He bore everyone's burdens. And then this happened and again, people relied on him and his strength.

Just a thought I had today and wanted to share.

Just a Thought Today

I heard at school that Norma Fox had passed away. My first fleeting thought was "Oh, I need to go call Dad." How long does it take before that doesn't happen any more? Does it ever go away?

A sticky situation

Today we went out to play (oh what a perfect day it is today- no jackets, hot!!). Daphne was exploring, as she does, and got some sap on her fingers. She immediately wanted to go in the house and get clean (she's a little compulsive about dirt).

We made a beeline for the house and began the cleaning process. The dirt came off quickly, but we had to get the butter out for the sap.

Every time I get butter out to clean sap from skin (which, truth be told, is not often), I think of Grandpa.

We were all out playing hide and seek in the yard, and I had gone to hide in the yews and junipers amongst the large lava rocks on the west side of the driveway. I grabbed a branch, and got some sap on my hands. As I made my way to the house, I passed Grandpa; who asked what I was doing.

I told him I was going to wash my hands. They were sticky with sap. As he was on his way to some project in the yard, he simply instructed me that the best thing would be butter.

So I went into the house and washed my hands with soap (Butter? Was his kidding?). It appeared to come off- he must have been joking. I reached for the towel and realized as I dried my hands, that they were still sticky.

I searched for the butter, opening the bread drawer (that I can still smell to this day) and others, until I came upon the desired item. I rubbed in just a bit of it, washed my hands again, and was relieved of my stickiness!

Thanks Grandpa! You made a little girl's life a bit happier today.

Signs of Spring

Why am I the only person posting anything here?

A few days ago I was driving home from school. Really, I was. It was about 5:00 and the sun was shining, which is odd around here this year. Since it was late afternoon, or early evening, which ever way you think, the sun was in the west so kind of low in the direction I was driving. I had just turned off Main Street heading west from the Old Fire Station and was struck with the most beautiful site. The trees looked like they had tiny little sparkles all over them. They were literally sparkling and glowing with the sun shining on them. So different from the gray branches of the previous days. It took me a minute to realize what was making the strange transformation. They were quakie trees, and the sparkles were the little fuzzy caterpillar-like beards that show up as the leaf-buds start to form. They only last for a few days, then drop off and the leaves appear. Of course, quakies make me think of Dad and his love for the trees. What a beautiful sight. I think it was the first time I ever thought of these messy beards as beautiful, but they certainly were. I had a camera in my purse, but forgot to get a picture. Then, again, I am sure a picture wouldn't have shown the beautify of the sparkles. Those trees were literally in a white glow of sparkles. It was a beautiful thing to see, and I bet I never get to see it like that again. Just happened to be there at the right time and place. Maybe a sign from heaven?

April's Fool's Joke

Every April 1st I would call Dad and we would laugh about the joke he played on me one WARM morning. I think it was his best ever, and I really got taken in by it.

I woke up to someone knocking on my bedroom window early in the morning, when it was just starting to get light enough to see. I heard Dad whisper/calling my name. I jumped to the window to see what was going on. He was right outside the window and backed up to talk to me. I could see he was kind of jumping around and acted like he was in a hurry. He said he was in a hurry, an emergency meeting at the district office. (He was still working there at the time.) Now, I don't remember if the state superintendent of schools had resigned, or if that was the time the superintendent was killed in a car accident, but at the time, there was no state superintendent and everyone was wondering who would be appointed to the position. Dad said he was called to this emergency meeting at the district office because our superintendent, Ernie Weeks (and we all know how much Dad LOVE him!) had been appointed to be the state superintendent and everyone at our district office was meeting to "rearrange" positions to cover what needed to be covered. Dad just wanted me to know what was going on before I got to school and heard rumors there. I kept saying things like "Really" "When" "What" "Did the state know what they were doing?" He kept answering my questions with really short fast answers. He insisted that he was in a hurry and needed to get off fast. He was talking as he was walking backward toward his car which was parked on the side of the road. As he reached for the door handle, he said, "Oh, by the way, check your calendar, today is April Fool's Day." Then he jumped in the car and drove away, laughing at me all the way, I am sure!

If there is April Fool's Day in heaven, I am sure he is laughing at me again, remembering how he snookered me that day!

Pictures

I'm writing this so you'll all hassle me about editing Grandpa's pictures. I've been meaning to start up again and hopefully saying it out loud to you all (so to speak) will get me off of my lazy butt.

I'm going to start right now. Really.

New links

Hi family,

I put more links to the side. They are the family blogs that I have. So now everyone who comes here can have easy access to the blogs. If you have a blog and you want the family to be able to read it, let me know and I will add that address. I also updated the background for an "outdoor" theme. Hope everyone enjoys it! Linda, I am still wanting to help you get hooked up on this so you can post. Please let me know when or how to help you.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa

I am reposting what I put on my personal blog...


Today is Grandpa Rue's birthday. He would have been 79. It is the "first" birthday since he has passed. Every year since I have been on my own I have called him to tell him Happy Birthday. I would wait for him to pick up that phone and hear him say "Oh my stars!" and then when I would tell him Happy Birthday, he would say "how did you know it was my birthday" even though it seems we all knew it was his birthday. It was always around Stake Conference and we always tried to have a family BBQ on the deck. I have thought of Grandpa all day today. Mom and Julie even said on grandpas blog that he would always remind everyone that it was around the first day of spring and growing up, that meant he could take off his undershirt. Well, it didn't feel like spring today. It has been snowing! I hope Grandpa has been enjoying his birthday today. I've been thinking of him all day! I love you grandpa! Always and forever!

A Gift

A birthday gift for Dad. I don't remember a birthday gift I gave him, but I do remember a Christmas gift. One year when we talked about what we wanted for Christmas, Dad said he just wanted a rake. A good old garden rake. He already had one, but that was his way of saying he didn't really need anything big. He kept saying he hoped he got a rake for Christmas. So I went to "Jones' Hardware Store" and bought a rake for him. But how do you wrap up a rake? I wanted him to have a gift he could unwrap. Because he was making such a big deal out of this rake he was wishing for, I wanted to make it "extra special" for him to unwrap. I took the newspaper and torn it into little thin strips and wrapped the strips around the tines of the rake, taping it up very carefully. Then I wrapped the strips around all the little parts of the rake, and around the handle. Then tied a big bow around the handle and put it in back of the tree, but where it was in full sight of everyone. It looked just like........a rake wrapped up in strips of paper. You didn't need an imagination of any kind. I didn't say anything at all about it, but waited to see what he did when he saw it. He came into the room and saw that rake leaning up against the wall and said something to the effect "Oh, may! Look! A present for me. I wonder what it is?" Then he kept guessing things like "a bread box?" "a hammer?" Very obviously not it. He kept this up for a long time. When Christmas morning came he was still pretending that he couldn't guess what the gift was. He sat there and wrapped every little strip of paper until he could "see" his gift! He sure did enjoy making us all laugh about his rake. He reminded me of it many times when he went out to rake his garden. He always got a kick out of that rake. Many times he tell me he didn't want to wish for a rake because he just might get it and have to unwrap it.

Happy Birthday, Dad! I hope you are enjoying a great time on your special day this year!

A Few Memories

Dad's/Grandpa's Birthday is coming up and I've been wanting to get these on here for his birthday.

After mom/Grandma died, it left me at home alone with Grandpa. He was a busy man, building new schools and the courthouse and the Sheriff's office and remodeling the courthouse. This took him out of town often, talking to architects, touring other new schools in the state, meetings and well, you get the idea. Well, many times I went with on these excursions and many of them were over night trips where we got a hotel room.

One summer, Grandpa, Linda and I went on a vacation to San Fransisco and up the coast to Bandon, OR where Grandpa Ware and Aunt Maree went on their mission. And when I was a Senior, Grandpa and I went to Alaska.

So . . . there were lots of stays in hotels. Sometimes, in some hotel bathrooms, there is a strip of paper over the toilet seat which the guest removes and throws away. Well, Grandpa always thought it was funny to carefully remove the strip of paper and set it somewhere and then when we were ready to check out he would carefully put it back across the toilet. He always thought it would be funny to see the maid as she realized someone had used the room but never used the toilet.

Also, the little triangles folded on the end of the toilet paper . . . he would refold those little triangles too. Every time I see the pointed end of toilet paper in a hotel bathroom or see the strip of paper across the toilet I think of Grandpa. And what is weird, I never think of it again until the next time I check into a hotel room.

Since Grandpa has died, I've been in several hotel rooms and each time I think of him and tell myself that I've got to write that down. So there it is . . . Grandpa was a little quirky.

Another memory . . . he polished his shoes often. He had his shoe polish down in the junk room and he would go out in the hole and put his foot up on the stump and polish. He always had shiny shoes.

When I was in high school, there was a store in Utah called "Castletons." It was a really nice store, kind of like ZCMI. There was a commercial shown on TV advertising Castletons and Grandpa did not like it. It showed a man in a dentist chair with wide eyes looking like he was in pain and very scared and the dentist drilling on him with this devilish look on his face.

Well, you all know Grandpa. Yup, he wrote them a letter, telling them that as an adult man, who has not been to the dentist for many years because of a traumatic experience as a child, they should not have a commercial like that. They are scaring children and making them afraid of the dentist. Castletons sent Grandpa a letter and thanked him for his and wanted him to know that they would be pulling that commercial off the air.

Grandpa stood by his convictions. He had a strong of opinion of what was right and what was wrong and he didn't let people make that determination for him.

And also, when he was a little boy he wore an undershirt all winter long. On his birthday which is always near the first day of spring, he was able to take his undershirt off. He looked forward to taking that undershirt off more than he looked forward to his birthday.

Happy Birthday Dad.

Pussy Willows

The pussy willows are on here in Orem. They always make me think of Grandpa.

Grandpa birthday

I guess we are having a get-together for grandpa's birthday on Saturday March 20. If anyone knows anymore details please feel free to put it up here!

New layout

I changed the layout since it is almost March. March to me means... Grandpa's Birthday and St Patricks Day.I hope it doesn't bother anyone that I changed it. If you find a background that you like and you want to change it to, please let me know the website and I will be happy to change it. St Patricks Day always reminds me that it is close to Grandpa's birthday and Stake Conference for the Castle Dale Stake :) Grandpa would be 79 this year. OH MY STARS!I will make sure to think of him on his birthday like I do every year but from now on, it will mean something different. I love you grandpa! With a bushel and peck and a hug around the neck!

Links

I went ahead and put the links on this page so people can reference the Obituary and funeral, Grandpa's Flickr, and the link to the video that Chels made for the funeral. That was a great idea!

I watched the video that Chels made, she did a GREAT job! While watching it, I just think what a great man Grandpa was. If anyone has any links or ideas on what to put on the page, please feel free to let me know.

If there is anyone else I should to post on this, please give their email address so I can "invite" them. I don't want to leave anyone out.

Grandpa Links

I thought it would be nice if we compiled links, etc. concerning Grandpa. If we could put some of these links in the sidebar that would be good- but Nicky has to do that kind of stuff.

His flickr page.

Obituary and funeral audio.

If anyone else has any links they'd like to share about Gpa that would be great!

Grandpa from dailydaph on Vimeo.

Another Lesson

I heard some good news from someone at school yesterday and this experience came to my mind, again......
One day in our visiting, Dad shared a thought with me that has stuck with me. Every time this situation comes up I think about what he said. I don't remember the situation of why this conversation came up, if we were just talking or experiencing it, but it stuck with me.

We were talking about feeling joy because of other's happiness. I remember him saying that so many times he would hear something similar to this conversation:

A: I see you have a new car.
B: Yeah, I sure needed it and isn't it nice?
A: Where did you get all the money?
B: I got a loan like every one else does. Now I have to pay it off.
A: Wish I could afford one.

Or this conversation:

A: We just got our plans finalized for a vacation that we want to take.
B: Wish I could go on a vacation. We never get to do anything. I don't want to hear about your vacation.

Dad then went on to talk about how many times he listened to similar exchanges. One person so excited they wanted to share their happiness, and the other person not wanting to hear about it because of jealousy. He told about one time he had heard that a certain man in town had a new truck. When he saw that man Dad remarked that he had been told about the new truck. Dad asked to see it, and made a fuss over the inside, the color, etc. The guy seemed thrilled to be able to share his new "toy" with someone. After the happy exchange, the guy told Dad that he was the first person to ask to see the truck. The happy owner then went on to say how he had been made to feel like a bad person through everyone else's apparent jealousy about his truck. He said he bought a new truck because he needed one, could afford it, and got a good deal. Why did other's feel he shouldn't be happy about it, take his happiness away, or put such a damper on it all?

Our conversation when on to discuss how we need to be happy for other people's happiness. That includes not saying you are "jealous" but "glad" or "happy for them". Let them talk about the good things in their lives so they will feel they can also share the bad or hard times.

I remember sitting there in the kitchen (of course, that is where all the good conversations took place), and hearing him talk about that man's new truck, and being happy for him. Something I remember when "Good Things Happen."

Hospital visits

The hospital visits all started 1 christmas long time ago.. (in a far away land). Grandpa got taken over to Castleview on Christmas Eve. That christmas was the year we got our blankets. I still have my blanket, it is in my cedar chest.

10 years ago the journey on christmas eve started again, Grandpa was rushed over to Castleview then life flight to UVRMC. He had staph infection surrounding his heart. They rushed him in to surgery to get the staph out. He was in ICU and he even got sworn into the School Board at that time while he was at the hospital. That hospital visit was a long stay but again, he pulled it off. He had open heart surgery along with the staph infection.

Then this past year.... Grandpa had a strange way of getting the family together for holidays. Easter he ended up getting life flighted up to UVRMC and they found out he had colon cancer. When he left that time he life in May to go to Ferron Rest Home. He was there for Mothers Day. Memorial Day, me and my parents were up camping and got a knock on the trailor door by Gayle Jensen saying Grandpa is being taken to Provo, he's in price right now. We loaded up what we had for a day to go to Provo. Grandpa went straight to the ICU. After there he went to the Respite place in Provo. I know he was home for thanksgiving because again, taken to Provo. After that, it wasn't good.

Grandpa was a strong man. I loved being able to talk to him after the Memorial Day hospitalization. I sat with him for hours. He would NOT let my momfeed him, he wanted Nicky! THen when it was just me and him, he would hold my hand and talk to Nell. I would cry. I told him that If Nell needed him, it's ok to go.

Grandpa taught so many life lessons. I miss grandpa so much. I am so blessed to have the family I have. Thank you all for the support.

Lasting Impressions

I want to tell about somethings that people at the viewing and funeral said to me about Dad.

Diane Butler told me that she thought a lot of him and he helped her so much in the library at San Rafael Jr. High. She said that if it wasn't for him she wouldn't have most of the stuff in the library. Diane said she would tell me someday of the experiences she had with him and what a help he was. (I'll let you know what else she says.)

Judge Scott Johansen told me that he really appreciated everything about Rue and that he was a great man. While Scott was the county attorney, sometimes he had to miss Commission meeting but always listened to the recordings of the meetings later. Many times Dad could have said some negative comment and Scott said many times Dad would have been justified in doing so. But Dad never did. In fact, Dad defended Scott many many times. He never said anything bad even when he could have.

Wendy Black came into Kent's office a couple of weeks ago and said how sorry she was to hear about Dad. She said he was the Principal when she was in 8th grade at Canyon View Jr. High. Wendy's dad died when she was 8 years old and "Mr. Ware" told Wendy many stories about her dad. She said he was the only one who would do that and she appreciated it so much. She loved hearing stories about her father and talking to someone outside her family who knew him in a different way than family did.

I thought those stories said a lot about Grandpa's character. Especially Judge Johansen's. Even if you are justified in saying something negative or demeaning to another, don't do it. Especially if they are your friend, family or co-worker.

I've thought alot about this and I'm sure Dad never imagined that not saying something mean about Scott when he could have, would be THE experience that stuck with Scott all these years. What will people say about us when we are gone? What is the lasting impression we are leaving with those we associate with? Are we living in a way where our children will be proud of us when we are gone? Are we living in a way where our children can be proud of us now?

I am proud that Rue Ware was my dad. I am proud that throughout his career he acted respectful and considerate of others. Yes, there are those times where his temper got the best of him, where he had to stand up for WHAT was right, not for WHO was right.

Hearing these stories inspires me to want to be better. To be the best Julie that I can be, the best wife, mom, grandma, neighbor, friend. I want my children to be proud of me, not only when I'm gone but now while I'm still here.

My Memories

Pulling weeds wasn't my ideal summer activity, but mom saw it fit for Landon and I to help Grandpa out in the orchard. As for specific memories go of mine and Landon's weed picking days go, it is hard to recall specific instances. As it has been stated already on this blog that many of our memories of Grandpa aren't life altering and they seem to just "be there".

So I guess I will spill out my memories of Grandpa. Landon and I would be at Grandpa's house in the early morning, because we wanted to beat the afternoon sun. Grandpa could be found out in the orchard on his scooter with Rosie (sp?) right behind. Grandpa would tell me and Landon waht jobs to tend to and he would monitor our efforts during the day. I would be on my hands and knees tending to a hole in the drip system and I would be trying with all my might to get the rid into the small hole with the pliers, but sure enough, Grandpa would say, "Mitchell, if you turn the pliers 45 degress, the rod would go in much easier", and sure enough, he was right. Grandpa would sit on his scooter and point to each week with his cane and say, "Mitchell, my stars, look at that weed right there!" So off I would go to chop down another weed. I didn't enjoy those long summer days, but I enjoyed spending the time with my brother and my Grandpa.

When my dad moved away to Farmington I was in the 7th grade. He left me and Landon with my mom and Chelsie was at CEU. Chelsie had her college life and things to tend to, and Landon was too cool to stay home, so that left me at home with my mom. I would see her alone when I would go to Kari's house for the evening, and it hurt me. I didn't like knowing that my mom was home alone while I was out with my friends. So I took it upon myself to be home with her. We never had much to do so we started going over to Grandpa's house. We would go over during the week and have dinner together, we would make trips to Wal-Mart, we would go on rides up to the mountains, we went to Scofield Days, and many other little trips here and there. Meanwhile, during all of this, I remember my mom saying that she was left alone with Grandpa when Grandma Nell dies. My mom would stay at home with Grandpa because she was the baby of the family and she didn't enjoy knowing that Grandpa was home alone while she was out with friends. I feel very fortunate that I was able to spend those years "hanging out" with my mom and my Grandparents.

I remember all of those times that my mom would leave Emery County and to to Farmington to deal with things with my dad, and I would have to stay at Grandpa's house. On those Saturdays, Grandpa would take me out in the truck and we would go for a drive up to the mountains. Just like my mom, I would ask questions. When I spent the night and when it came time for dinner, I remember always having toast with whatever we ate. I remember the smell of the bread drawer. Lastly, the biggest thing I remember was having a Grandpa. Having a Grandpa who taught me, cared for me, and above all else, loved me.

Look To The Heavens

Yesterday morning this was shining brightly in the sky. I thought about Dad and how we would share the wonders of the sky. He would call me when he saw something beautiful like a sunrise or the moon big and bright. For an instant I thought "Wow, I need to call Dad and tell him to look outside." But then, maybe he was seeing it, too. I posted more about this on my blog. You can check it out.

Photos I have taken

I wish I had gotten a few more photos at the graveside. here is the best of what I have.. Minus what Chelsie put up .

I think I posted a few of these before or at least I did on my OTHER blog. But here are some photos from my grandfathers graveside service. I didn't take as many as I would like because my sweet baby was not a happy camper. But here is what I came up with!

This one is probably my favorite of the day. This was the spray that my mom and her sisters and my Grandma Carol had for him. My favorite is the Pine. The pine was perfect for my grandpa.

This is my Grandpa's "older" brother. He has buried his 2 babies brothers pretty close together. He is strong and going and one of my most favorite people. He is one of the constants whenever we go home to visit.

This is the Sheriff Lamar Guymon. He worked with my grandpa for a long time in many different capacities. He was a speaker at the funeral. He is also a very close family friend. While I was trying to get some decent photos he was hoovering over with his umbrella trying to keep me from getting wet. I have a deep respect for this man. And with Cell number in hand he sent me on my way telling me to call when I got stuck in the canyon and he would come rescue me... AGAIN!

The man on the right is my Uncle Royce and his wife. Again some constants in my life. Uncle Royce is my grandmothers brother. The little town we lived in is CRAWLING with all of my family. You can't even go to the post office without running into some sweet old person from my childhood is more than happy to give you a hug! These people have changed and shaped my life.

This is the wreath that my Cousin Kristi put together. It has my cousins names on the Christmas balls that will be put up by my grandparents grave side each year.

The gun salute was pretty amazing in the quiet of the cemetery. What a great experience to see these men do something so honorary for my grandfather was breathe taking.

Ok a few More will be coming.

Home Squared

I've been thinking about Gpa a lot over the last year; with his health problems, all the pictures we worked on, etc. I feel so extremely fortunate to have spent the month or so with him in June while he was up here in rehab. I'm glad Daphne was able to spend so much time with him. She knows exactly who Papa Rue is and whenever she sees pics of him she squeals his name with glee.

I've been trying to think of specific memories of him, and while I have them, they are all pretty short and nothing earth shatteringly profound. At first this bothered me. Then I realized that the reason for this is because he was a constant presence in my life. He wasn't there for every little program or anything, and seeing him was never a big deal (except on Christmas Eve). I think that speaks for how important he was. By that I mean that seeing him, visiting him, was just a normal part of my life experience.

There are definitive personality traits for which I can recall short little snippets of memories (Chelsie, I'd like a glass of water with three ice cubes placed right here.). And we all laugh at these because we know they illustrate things about Gpa that were aggravating and we loved him all the more for them.

More than all that, my thoughts seem to bend less toward the specific and more toward the general. Particularly, what his consistent habitation of the goings on of my life did to shape my perceptions and ideas about what family and community should be.

I just finished reading "Dreams of my Father". In it, Obama is trying to figure out who he is and where he fits in the world. He travels to Kenya to meet his father's family. He spends the first part of his trip with the younger family members who live in the capitol city of Nairobi. After a time they travel to where the rest of the family resides and calls "Home Squared". Obama asks them to explain what that means and his sister says:

There's your house in Nairobi. And then there's your house in the country, where your people come from. Your ancestral home. Even the biggest businessman thinks this way. He may have a mansion in Nairobi and build only a small hut on his land in the country. He may only go there twice a year. But if you ask him where he is from, he will tell you that that hut is his true home. So, when we were at school and wanted to tell somebody we were going to Alego, it was home twice over, you see. Home Squared. (pg 369)

That is what Orangeville, and more specifically, the house that Grandpa built and the land that he tended and loved, is for me. Perhaps that is why I've never felt lost in this world. Grandpa was the embodiment of Home Squared.

There are reasons I do not want to live in Emery County. There are the reasons that none of us want to live there and that those who do can't stand about living there.

But there are also reasons I yearn to move back. To have Aunt Lori as Daphne's teacher, to run up the street and visit with some family member, to run into someone I'm related to wherever I go, to have Daphne get to know and love all the places and people I know and love, to have the closest friends (family) for myself and Daphne to be so close at hand, to have a vested interest in my local community, to know the story of every rock and tree and canal and ditch and to know every inch of sidewalk in the town for myself. The scenes of 95% of my nightly dreams are locations in Emery County.

Liza posted some Halloween pics on Facebook and I knew where every single picture was taken. I look through Gpa's pics and feel more at home than when I am sitting in my own house. What I wouldn't give to have East Mountain be within view at all times!

I owe this love for home to Grandpa, directly and indirectly. For the stories he shared with me and with my mother that she then shared with me. For the work he did to help build and shape the county, school district, mountains, Orangeville, and his own home. These things he did created an environment that left me so wholly connected to a place and the people in that place, that he is, to my mind, inexorably linked to that environment. That they are one and the same.