All Good Things Must End

Today is our last full day at Aspen Grove. Tomorrow we check out and head for Southern Utah. These are the bands that have entitled us to three square meals a day without so much as lifting a finger to prepare it or clean it up. Not only have we been fed physically, we have feasted spiritually. Our Sunday evening fireside speaker was Cheryl Lant, General President of the Primary. In addition to her talk, I've had several personal conversations with her that were intimate and sweet. We've attended lectures on strengthening marriage. We've listened to five lectures by Susan Easton Black. I met my brother's grandson whom I've never met (He works here at Aspen Grove). We had two days of challenging and productive meetings. I love the people I've met and worked with through my Executive Committee assignments. We played games together in the evening and our fearless leader taught us how to play "Scum." Come on over and we'll play a few hands. We've met wonderful people from all over the country. The only thing better than new friends is old friends. Another family from our very own ward is here this week. So fun to bump into the Clarks. We've napped and read (I just finished There is no me without you, the account of one woman's efforts to save the orphans of Africa. What an appropriate read, since Kristin is in Africa right now.) We've watched movies and eaten ice cream from the Creamery -- about the best ice cream you can find. We've enjoyed one of God's most beautiful creations and breathed a lot of wonderful mountain air. Life is good!

Do I have to be responsible?

Oh darn, I guess I have to put on my BYU hat. Two full days of Executive Committee meetings. I shouldn't complain. That is, after all, the reason we are here!

Aspen Grove after 41 years

The year that Randy and I were married we were students at BYU. Most everything in our lives was diminutive -- our apartment, our car, our income, and yes, believe it or not, even our bodies (Randy was a whopping 155 pounds and I tipped the scale at 120. I hope that is the weight on record when my body is restored to its "perfect" state). We drove a little green Volkswagon Beetle, which could go just about anywhere. One night as we prepared to go to bed we noticed out the window that it had begun to snow -- big lacy flakes. Clad only in our PJs, we tucked ourselves into the car; no coats, just slippers on our feet, and our new wool car robe spread over our laps. (What were we thinking?!) We drove up Provo Canyon and turned off toward Sundance, anxious to see just how far our little beetle bug would make it. Once we turned off the main road we entered a virtual fairyland. Every twig, every branch, every pine needle was coated with snow. Not a tire track anywhere. Not a sound of any kind. Like the Energizer Bunny, our little car could have gone on forever, but when we reached Aspen Grove we got to thinking about what might happen if we slid off the road. We sat and watched the snow fall, then inched our way back down the canyon, through the dark streets of Provo, and straight into bed. We both remember this magical adventure with clarity and detail. It never crossed our minds that some day we would spend an idyllic week enjoying Aspen Grove with Emily and Adam. Gotta run -- it's lunchtime!

An Interesting Exchange

Randy grew up "on the hill" in St. George, Utah. He and his friends scampered around the red rocks, ledges and sandstone caves near his home. They played "war", and heroically won every battle against "the bad guys." Randy was a very popular playmate because his dad had fought in a real war not very many years before, and Randy had real army stuff to play with. They would dress up in military clothing -- flight caps, fur-lined flight boots, jackets, and parachute harnesses (the parachute itself had been made into curtains for Randy's bedroom) and romp around in St. George's 110 degree temperatures. What fun?! One of the things Randy loved to carry around in his pocket was a small military shaving kit. It wasn't until this year that I learned about the shaving kit.

I recently completed a project (that had been years in the making) sorting and compiling all of the information we've gathered about Randy's dad's escape from German-occupied France. In the process, I watched hours and hours of videos of the various trips we have made to France, interviews with individuals who had been involved, etc. There was a little clip I had not seen before (Randy was at the camera and you can see me in the kitchen with the women doing the dishes). His dad is standing with Henri (the man who at age 18 risked his life to hide Ted from the Germans) and another man and he is holding a small khaki-colored case. He opens it to reveal an old safety razor. He tells this story.

In 1918 (First World War), an American soldier gave this razor to a French soldier. In 1943 (Second World War) this French soldier gave the razor to Ted, an American soldier. He used it during the three months that he was in hiding and escaping from occupied France. In 1987, the razor comes back to France. Ted removes the razor from the case and shows it to Henri. The video clip ends.

WAIT! What happens to the razor? Did he give it to Henri? Did he give it to the other man? Has anyone seen the razor since? There is too much history there to simply disappear. Both Henri and Ted are gone now. I write to Henri's family. They have not seen the razor.

Yesterday we solved the mystery. Randy's brother has the razor. We were able to photograph it. What could the Gillette Company do with this amazing 90-year-old story of international exchange? I guess it's true that "Quality Lasts."

Pioneer Day Celebration

Next to being in the nation's capitol on July 4th, perhaps the very best time to be "in the right place at the right time" is Salt Lake City on July 24th -- the day Mormons celebrate the pioneers' arrival into the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. We're here!

Some of my earliest memories of the 24th include decorating our bikes and tricycles with red, white, and blue crepe paper. We loved to attach playing cards with clothes pins in such a way that they flapped against the spokes, creating the closest thing we knew to the sound of a motor. We turned Radio Flyer wagons into little covered wagons. We dressed up in sun bonnets and cowboy clothes. We shot off rolls of caps in our cap guns, or laid them on the cement and dropped rocks on them to fire them off. It was a day for parades, home-fried chicken and potato salad picnics, watermelon and homemade root beer (which we made with yeast and sealed into glass bottles. These were put into crates, covered with a blanket, and stored in the dark "fruit room" for a few days to let the yeast work. There isn't a root beer on the market that can begin to compare.) We sang pioneer songs -- "All is well. All is well." We square-danced -- parents and kids together (with a real caller) -- swing your partner, alamand left and dosiedo. And when it got dark, the best part of all. We had sparklers. I love my Mormon heritage and treasure these memories.

So here we are in Salt Lake City. No crepe paper streamers, no square dancing, no sun bonnets. But we did trek to Snow Basin, the site of some of the 2002 Winter Olympic events. It was beautiful! And it was a day spent with family members that we don't see often. "All is well. All is well!"

I'm ready!

So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, good-bye! Tiao, Hej da, Adeus, Adios! We're leavin' on a jet plane. Don't know when we'll be back again. But stay tuned. I'll be posting.

Ruminations of a Mormon Woman

I was born and raised a Mormon. My ancestors crossed the plains with the ill-fated Willie Handcart Company in 1856. I have loved and believed in this Church for as long as I can remember. My parents served faithfully in everything they were ever asked to do. No sacrifice was too great. I owe everything that is good (and there is a lot of it) in my life to the teachings and practices of this Church. I would love nothing more than to have opportunities to explain its beliefs to anyone who might listen. Although the doctrines of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are as close to “perfect” as is possible, its members are not. While members are generally known for their high standards and genuine concern for others, misinformation occasionally lead to criticism or misunderstanding.

Something that has been bothering me for the past few months is the very bad media coverage relative to the topic of polygamy. In April, authorities raided a polygamist compound in Eldorado, Texas, removing 416 children and placing them in foster care. There have been multiple interviews, TV programs, magazine articles and newspaper write-ups. In many instances, the media has referred to these polygamists as Mormons and their church as the Mormon Fundamentalist Church. These people have nothing to do with our Church, and our Church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) has not practiced polygamy for 118 years.

Here are two short video clips I’d like you to watch. They will help you to understand why it is offensive to us when people wrongly associate these people with us and our beliefs.