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.