Happy Birthday

Just thought I would stop by and say happy birthday.

Just like grandpa!

I started thinking i was like Grandpa. When the Twin Towers were hit 10 years, I knew that history was being made. I knew that one day I would need to teach my children about it. I wanted to show my children things that where going on. So I grabbed newspaper. I saved newspaper from the days after and I saved them. They are tucked away in my cedar chest, safe.. One day, I will pull them out and show my kids what was going on those few days after. Other events that happened.. That there was still life (day to day activities)..

Off to China

Here it was, the week before I left for China! What an experience I am on! Holy crapola. Back to the point. Before I left for China I knew I had wanted a blessing- but from who? Although my lifestyle doesn't permit one to be active in the church, my testimony still lives strong and true- I know where I am, I know where I am going, and I know where I have been. That is my testimony.

I was sitting in my car and driving around doing all of the errands that I had to do before I left for the big C-H-I-N-A, and as I was driving I knew that I needed a blessing from someone- again, who? I am picky about who lays their hands on my head- might I add an emphasis on PICKY. The job/task of giving a blessing, to me, is an honorable thing. The men who have placed their hands on my head are: Grandpa, Larry, Garth, Dallas (roommate), Chandler (boss's husband), Trevor, Kent, Patriarch Curtis, and Bishops, and that I pretty much it- I think. So I don't just let anyone do it. I want to know that person. I want them to know me. I don't want them to get done with the blessing and think, "Well, there was my good deed for the week!" I want them to have a connection with me, and not just the connection between their hands and my bald head.

So I got thinking and I thought to myself- I want Uncle Keith to give me a blessing. So I called him up and he agreed. Why Uncle Keith? He is the closest thing to Grandpa that I have here; however, at the last moment, he informed me that he would like someone else to be there, so I called Larry and he agreed. Now, here comes the part that I knew I wanted. I didn't want the blessing in some living room on some chair that had been sat on by people, and I didn't want it at my house. I wanted it somewhere that I hadn't had a blessing before, and I wanted it to be special. Where else should I have it? Sitting on the bench next to Grandpa's headstone. Perfect.

Larry, Uncle Keith, and I met at the cemetery at 11:00 and talked a little bit about my new adventure. When that conversation ended we proceeded over to the bench next to his headstone. As we walked over, Larry and Uncle Keith lingered behind near the cars and I walked over to the bench. As I walked over- I thought to myself, "Here I am Grandpa...."

I sat on the bench and Larry and Uncle Keith put their hands on my head- while Larry's voice said, "Brother Mitchell Rue Watson..." At that moment, my right eye opened, and I glanced at the name "Rue Ware" carved into the stone. I thought, "I am Mitchell Rue Watson", the one person that carries the name of his Grandpa. I am honored to carry that name. While they gave me the blessing, which was utterly fantastic, I noticed there wasn't a breeze in the air, there wasn't this warm fuzzy feeling of grandpa is next to me. Why? Why did I need that feeling? Why was I even searching for it? In my mind and in my heart, I know that those events didn't take place because I didn't need that conformation that Grandpa was going to be with me for the next year. I know in my heart that he is here with me. I didn't need to feel him while sitting next to his headstone to know that he is watching me. I didn't need any of that. What I needed to know is that he never left me, and will never leave me till the day I die- and even then- he won't leave me. He will greet me with open arms and a tear in his eye while saying, "Oh my stars..." So Grandpa, I hope you are enjoying China as much I am enjoying it here.

Meadow Lark

I thought of Dad yesterday when I heard my first meadowlark of the year. That little bird didn't stop singing "Orangeville's a pretty little place." Not only that, it jabbered to the other birds. It was a loud, noisy bird. I wish I knew all the things it was say. It was probably telling the weather that it needed to straighten up and stay warm so it could stay. I wondered if this is early or late for the meadowlarks to return. I knew that Dad probably had it written in his books for each year, the exact date he heard the first meadowlark of each year. How many times have I wanted to know the temperature on a certain day, or when the leaves (beards) finally come on the quakies. He had it all written down, somewhere. I wonder where those journals are now? Wish we had them to copy them.

Family History

I had a reason for not writing anything yesterday. My eyes were filled up with water most of the day. Don't know why. And again today. I think it is PMS (Poppa Memory Syndrome) or something. So, this is off the subject of Grandpa Rue Ware, and on to Grandpa Guy Ware.

Last night when President Sharp announced that we would be re-dedicating the Stake Center and that President McKay was the one who dedicated the original building, it reminded me of a picture that Wayne Ware sent me a year ago. I came home and found it on my computer, printed it off and took it to President Sharp today. Here is is for everyone to see.

Aunt Ione responded that she is the younger lady in the picture, which Ruanne correctly guessed! Congratulations, Ruanne. You know your family history. As for me, I knew Grandpa Ware is on the left, President McKay is facing away from the camera, and Grandma Ware (Linda) is on the far right. Aunt Ione also said the other lady is Sister McKay, which should have been a natural for us all because she always accompanied him. I will share more photos as I get them.

I put this pic on facebook and got a response from Kathy Hannert, who grew up in the little house just behind my house. She was good friends with Leslie Ware. She said the Grandpa gave her her name and blessing and she always considered him to be such a gentle man. So nice of her to leave that comment.

Nikki Rondinelli said she would be sharing more photos she has of the family history from her dad, Uncle Keith, and Stuart. I will put anything I get up on here. I love family history!

Happy 80th Birthday Grandpa!

We've all been thinking about you today. Some days it doesn't feel like your gone, just that it has been a while since we've spoken. Others it feels strange. Others it feels sad.

Today I feel all three, in turns. I've been thinking a lot about how the term "old" is so relative. You've always been old to me. I don't know if it is possible for a Grandpa not to seem old to his grandchildren. But now that I think about it, you were only 51 years old when Todd, Nicky, and I were born. You were 47 when you became a grandpa. I don't think my dad, Kent, Garth, or Larry are old. But they are all older than you were when I was born (actually, my dad is 51 now, but still).

Interestingly, I don't really think of you as old. The image I hold of you in my mind is of a physically capable, busy man. Out in the yard working. That is who you were for so many years. It is who you are. I'm surprised, and happy, that image of you returned to my mind so quickly and easily. It is a much more accurate version of you.

We all miss you much.

Love you and happy birthday, Grandpa!

P.S. I know I need to start working on your pictures and audio and stuff. I will. I promise!

March

It is almost March, you know what that means..According to Grandpa, you are able to not have to wear your undershirts! YAY! It's Grandpa's Birthday month!

TL

I have a TL for you, Grandpa. Just before Christmas, I got a call from Neal Peacock. One of their city council people had gotten onto the computer that stores their website and deleted a bunch of important files. He was wondering if I could come and fix it all and move everything onto a computer that no one had access to.

So the Monday after Christmas I met Neal bright (not really- Castle Dale was in a pretty thick fog that morning) and early at Castle Dale City Hall. As I was working Neal was speaking with Carolyn (not sure if she's the Treasurer or Recorder) about some things happening with the schools and how the district is handling the situation. Then he turned to me and said;

"This goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway. I sure do miss the old guard at the district. Your Grandpa didn't worry about whether or not he would upset people or make enemies. He just did what needed to be done. He did what was needed to make things work the way they are supposed to. We really need that right now."

I know Grandpa and Neal had some different ideas, but it made me happy to know that they respected one another. Though, truthfully I already knew that and wasn't surprised at all. it is still nice to hear.

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....