Recycling Lights and Day 10

      Today’s Light of the World feature is to Highlight our hero on social media and just like last year (here) I think those who truly have Christ like attributes would NOT want to be showcased on social media.  Especially if they don’t see it in themselves.  Thus here is my post for day 10.

        Jenna had an assignment in which she was to write an essay answering different questions about a book character or a personal ancestor.  She chose the latter and we found an ancestor I knew I had stories for.  She needed more words than the three stories combined. As we couldn't answer all the questions accurately we fudged a bit on “what might have been” – it was quite a good essay, but not exact as we have no way of knowing if all the facts were actual – only that much of it was “based on truth”.

        When Jenna learned what Day 10 would be she excitedly asked if she could share her essay on facebook.  At first I told her that perhaps she shouldn’t as certain family members might take it as truth, but the more I thought about it I wondered how many would take the time to read it especially since "posting s story" seems more inviting to her than having to post it to the "wall".  

            I have many stories that I have shared throughout this blog. For the most part I have not posted them on facebook - mostly due to lenghth.  That’s too much information for facebook in my opinion.  And yet my brother would often write lengthy posts - especially during the time that his mother-in-law had COVID.  Those I would read - but sometimes would only scan.

        The experience that I am now sharing was from a different ancestor and another side than the one we used for Jenna. For facebook I will end up with only one paragraph that explains a journal but not much of a story line.  But I will share the story here and send a link to any of those that may be curious enough to want to read more:

        Just a brief history to hopefully make this easier to follow.  My great grandmother had four children.  Her only daughter married and had three children: my dad, his brother and his sister. Great grandma’s oldest son married and had six children (three boys and three girls).  The eldest of his children also had six children – five girls and a boy.  I will provide the names of four as I am about to mention the “story” and what unfolded as a result.

        My dad’s sister had four sons.  One I will refer to as Skyler. Dad’s cousin had the six children.  Her only son is Brett. He fits somewhat in the middle. The last time I remember seeing my second cousins was when Heidi was four to six years old.  I had forgotten that dad’s cousin had also given birth to twins after Heidi. I don’t believe Skyler knows about Brett or Heidi or any of the living relatives on that side.  But I could be wrong.  I don’t suppose it matters to the point of this story.

 

On March 29 this year was our second Sunday since the schools shut down and we were on a Stay-at-home order.  Skyler had shared a post about great grandma’s grandfather on a family facebook page.  He sent a Acrobatic link which included pages of Richard’s journal.  Richard is our 3^rd great grandfather. 

I did write a brief synopsis at receiving the journal (here) but did not mention what took place shortly after that. 

Brett has been active on ancestry and I thought he would be interested in Richard’s journal as well – though some of it is really hard to read.  At the time it did not appear that Brett had an account on facebook – though I have seen his name quite recently so must have created an account during the pandemic – I’m thinking in August.  I don’t know if he’s posted since then.

I am facebook friends with one of my dad’s cousins – Brett’s uncle, his mother’s brother.  I knew the names of three of his sisters but had no idea what their married names were and so went to their uncle’s account to see if I could possibly find them that way.  I saw that Heidi and I had two fb friends in common – her uncle and my daughter-in-law.  What?  How would my daughter-in-law know Heidi?  Turns out they had lived in an area that Heidi’s mom had grown up in and seemed to dislike.  I smile every time I think about her saying “Who wants to live in [place]” – and here she has at least two daughters living there.

 I messaged Heidi:

         “I understand that Randy and Carrie used to live in your ward.  I am Randy’s mother.  I am also your second cousin by way of your Grandpa J and my Grandma Helen.  I used to work with your mom at Snelgrove’s ice cream store.”

I mentioned that I’d been searching for her brother as I believed he might be the family historian and told her about Skyler sharing a piece of our 3^rd great grandpa’s journal and asked if they might have seen it.  Unfortunately I was unable to send the pfd. I asked Skyler if he could email it to her but do not know if Heidi was able to view it.  But I have shared other things with her – a photo of Randy and Carrie’s baby, a family photo of our grandparents, great grandparents, and her mom when she was three or four years old.  I also shared a photo I have shared on my blog before and our relationship with the Bird family (see here) 

          The point is I had made a connection with living relatives which to me is more important than lineage.  Not to take away from ancestry or those who thrive on it.  I have shared other discoveries on my blog as well as my lack of enthusiasm for family history in the past;  I do enjoy maintaining present and keeping records for posterity so they may hopefully have a better attitude toward genealogy than do I.

          Though I don't share the story of the ancestor himself,  I have briefly shared our lineage and the experience of connecting over social media.  I don't guess that's showcasing my ancestor - though he has become more than just a name to me. He evidently wrote some poetry in addition to his journal.  

not all the pages are this hard
to read but much of it is

My Custom Heirloom Walking Stick

      Jenna and I first met Chris just over a year and a half ago.  We met him at Millsite Park.  Jenna and I had been walking around and Chris was looking for the perfect stick as he had a request for making a cane similar to his (see this post)

      I thought that would be nice to have a custom-made cane for myself, and thought I would start collecting words that might describe me and ask him how much he charged.  Chris said he walked in Millsite all of the time.  That was the only time that I saw him.  I don't even know his last name. 

      When Roland was playing Friar Tuck in Hi, Ho, Robin Hood, he had stripped one of our wild junipers to make a walking stick for the character.  I decided that when he was through with it, I would adjust it to my own needs.  I would strip the wood, sand the stick and start a decoupage.  I decided to use more photos than words. Instead of multi colors, I hoped to keep them in the same color as the wood.  It didn't turn out as I expected, but there you have it: 

My custom heirloom walking stick:

stripping down the bark

printing pages full of words and pictures

Define Your Dash: more links

          I have followed a few blogs off and on.  Many of the creators have stopped posting.  Others have closed for privacy or discontinued the blog altogether.   My niece had three blogs going - though not all simultaneously.  The first one was one that a friend had started when they were living in Thailand in the summer of 2011.  She had started another the year that my mother died.  Her first post was a tear jerker.  She made some profound thoughts - much like her mother.  I have wished that Sunny would create a blog to post to. 

          Ellen (not her real name.  Unlike Corey and I, she uses the real actual names in her blogs) started off her first post mentioning how every journal she starts will include a history of herself.  I can relate to that.  I have tried cramming my entire life into a few pages - often repeating myself and then slowly drifting away from it only to start over again later on. I absolutely love her profound thoughts and her ability to comparing her entries to puzzle pieces hoping that someday the pieces will all fit into one finished puzzle.

          She writes how early in her marriage she felt that she had been forced into responsibilities that she was not prepared to handle.  Perhaps "force" is not the correct word.  It was just an awkward situation for all of us - a situation which a newly married couple shouldn't have to deal with.  I think there may have been some resentment on my part as well. 

          In 2009 the economy had treated so many unkindly.  We were in jeopardy of losing our house.  We had two boys on missions and were in need of temporary housing.  I had asked my mom if we could stay with her for a while.  I figured that it would be good for her as it was for us because her dementia was starting to kick in and we knew it was only a matter of time before her mind got worse.  I also knew that Biff would be able to lift her if she were to fall.  Someone would have been with her around the clock.  I don't think either of my brothers believed her condition would worsen as quickly as it did.  We did not move in with my mom.  I suppose I felt a bit miffed a few years later when I learned that Nate and Ellen were moving in.  It wasn't anything personal.  It was the dementia.  Mom hadn't even remembered my asking. 

          She seemed pretty normal for the first year that Nate and Ellen had moved in with her.  But by their second year, mom's mind was being robbed of any present or future common knowledge and often diverted into the past.  Nate and Ellen were still newlyweds.  Their living arrangements in helping to care for mom turned into way more than they had bargained for.  Of course, it did!  Ellen was struggling with her emotions.  I was too - and I wasn't under the same roof as Ellen was.  I can understand her resentments and frustrations.  I really can.

          The name of her first post was called " Don't Be Sorry"  It's her description of the situation and seeing my mom in the assisted living that tugged at my heartstrings.  Even now - 5 years later.  Well, just over 5 years.  Her first post was on July 28, 2013 - just over five weeks before my mom passed. Her last post was on June 25, 2017 "Define Your Dash #25".  On January 1 of that same year, she had accepted the "Define Your Dash" challenge - or had attempted it rather - although she had pretty much been "defining her dash" all along. I don't know if she made that connection or had ever thought of it that way.  So what exactly does it mean to "Define One's Dash"?

          This website here gives us a glimpse into what the "dash" represents.  It is the "line" between the birthdate and the death date as written on a grave marker or funeral program.  

It is the "dash" - or time between birth and death.  This post gives a bit of insight to those who may not have "defined their dashes" or perhaps the discovery still needs to be made.  Defining your dash is to write down your memories, your recollections, your history.  It is what makes you.  By writing what your "dash" is, you are defining what that "line" represents.   

          There are 52 writing suggestions found here that remind me of the pieces of paper I can retrieve from my journal jar here, though I like the symbolic meaning for the "dash" or "line" between the two dates.  That is our life!  We need to write a legacy for our families so that we are more than just two dates etched in stone.  52 suggestions to outline the year if you were to write one each week.  Ellen posted 25 of them.  For Linda Ellis's full poem about the dash, see here.  Feel inspired.  Write for yourself.  Write for your posterity. 

Before My Mind Forgets

I was looking for some photo pages the last week.  As I was searching, I came across a scrapbook that Jenna and I created together – or started to anyway.

A neighbor who had three daughters of her own had actually given the album to us.  I don’t know if it was something she intended to fill up eventually and life just got in the way, or if she just really wasn’t interested in that kind of thing – or why it had been in her possession in the first place.

I don’t even know how old the album is.  There is a copyright from Lansdowne Publishing.  It was first published in 1997 than in 1998.  The book itself is written and compiled by Deborah Nixon.  Designed and Photographed by Robyn Latimer.  Beautifully illustrated and very thoughtful.  It’s called  Mother’s Memories For my Daughter.

  I let Jenna pick out all the pictures that she wanted to use.  As I'd written down my memories into the book, she would cut out pictures and paste them in.  We had fun doing it – and I think it will be a great treasure for her one day – providing that she can actually read it.

When my mind is working faster than my pen, I tend to get sloppy.  The fact that cursive isn’t really taught in our public schools anymore has made it even more challenging.  Jenna can’t read cursive.

There have been several papers and stories that she has written on – sloppy print and misspells.  I have scanned many and have a picture in her original hand and a translation.  I figured I could do the same for mine.  And so I’ve started.  Barely.  Started.  My mind has raced with almost every page I’ve scanned.  There’s much more detail in my head than what’s been written.  I have been writing down memories, typing them, searching for more photos – which I know exist – but I cannot find them.  More searches.  More memories.  My fingers cannot keep up with my mind.

  

Corey has tackled the project of transcribing mom’s journal.  I am so excited for it.  I’m sure that it will take me longer to read than for him to copy it all. 

He shares certain memoirs every now and then.  It is fun to see them on facebook and remember when.  I love my mom.  I have great respect for her.  She was such an awesome woman!  And just so giving and compassionate.  I wish I were more like her.

The memories I have been writing down are about my grandparents and great-grandparents and then I started to write down what I know about Roland’s mom and then I asked him to change the things that I misunderstood and to add his own memories.  He wrote things about his dad.  I’m glad that he did, because I did not know him.  I was in high school when he died – just over twenty years before I had even met Roland.

As I’m typing or writing, I can think of more things.  I add thoughts, insert paragraphs, forever cut and paste.  I will easily fill up several flash drives.  That is where I am.  My blog is on the back burner – for a while anyway.  

Saturday Went Well

            I actually received quite a few compliments on how well Super Saturday went and how many enjoyed themselves.  That’s nice.  But I really can’t take credit for any of it – except perhaps the date change. 

            I thought the first activity I was in charge of had a better turn out – but maybe it was the same.  I didn’t interact the way I had with the first. 

            We had four stations – two tables with fabric and sewing machines; two tables that held blocks and paint; my station was a single table which held journals, journaling ideas and hand-outs; was it two or three tables spread out for the popcorn ball demonstration?

            The older sisters watched as Sharon demonstrated how she makes popcorn balls.  We had 8 – 10 sisters signed up for the blocks and a couple of stragglers who hadn’t signed up for anything gravitate to the potholders.

            I had brought a sewing machine in addition to Pamela and Scarlett bringing theirs.  Unfortunately, I did not have the hookups with mine.  I just assumed everything was in the box.  Even when I took it out, I wasn’t thinking that it would need a plug or pedal.  (So why do I even have a sewing machine? you ask.  I obviously don’t bother with it if I’ve had it in a box.  The truth is, I don’t sew, but Roland’s mother does.  We had it for her)

            Kristin went home to get her machine.  I think we had three sisters sewing potholders.  Scarlett, Lisa and Mary came to my station while I rattled on about journal keeping.  Natalie had her ipad and went around taking pictures of the various activities – which I am very grateful for.  No one had asked her to.  She just did it of her own incentive.  She posted the activities to facebook.  I am so appreciative to her.

            I’m appreciative to my whole committee actually.  They all pitched in and helped set up.  Pamela had had this great calling before me and so volunteered to assist with Super Saturday, as she would have done had she still been in this position.  And Sharon says she’s full of ideas.  I don’t think she wants to be on the committee though.  She starts her day very early and ends it before our meetings our wrapped up – or so I believe.  She pushes herself and then gets tired.

            I was sad to have missed the bishopric wives luncheon.  I knew it would be my last.  Roland was released from being a counselor.  Actually both counselors were.  Roland has been called to a stake position.  He’ll be starting his new calling this next Sunday, I guess.

Creative Journaling – photos are less than a thousand words

     I’ve always been an advocate of journal writing – but especially now that mom has passed. 

     After we put my mom into assisted living and were cleaning out her house in order to sell it, my brother, Corey, took mom’s journals with him to Las Vegas and has been transcribing them ever since.  He also took a couple of boxes of photographs. There have been several parts of her journal which have corresponded with unlabeled photos or have provided memories that have had us thinking, “Oh, yea.”

     Other passages have given us more insight to our overly quiet dad.  And lately – mom’s emotions about caring for dad mirroring our own with caring for her.  It’s been a rather interesting journey. 

     Some journal entries often seem boring and it feels pointless to even write about.  Journal entries written by teens can often sound funny or disheartening.

     Recently I discovered a journal while cleaning out Biff’s old room and converting it to Jenna’s. 

     Biff had received a journal upon his baptism when he was eight years old.  It had been signed by his bishopric.  It took him thirteen years to fill less than forty pages.  It amazes me that he has moved at least six times since receiving his journal and has it still – though he's never once written in it since we moved to West Valley.

     His entries from 1995 to 2000 are quite simple.  He didn’t start dating his entries until after then.  Thus it’s hard to tell what lines were written during what point in his life.  Here are some examples:

Today I was mad.  We played horse in the gym. 

Today I went outside to play.  It was fun

Today I went to the zoo

I had a good day today. 

I am 12 years old now.  6^th grade is hard for me.  I have two girl friends (lie) named Charlene and Nollie

His first dated entry is Jan 24, 2000

1/24/2000

That got on my last nerve

1/25/2000

School

1/26/2000

School

2/15/2000

Party

9/11/2001

I am now 14.  There was an attack on America.  How it happened

Plane crash in building

9/17/2001

All night this is my life.  I go to school, smile at people. 

I go home, smile at people, then go to bed. 

That’s my life right now. 

Hopefully it’ll get better.  I know it will

12/28/2001

I am now 14

I’m bored . . . there is nothing to do at age 14

I had a girl friend.  I forget her name, but I wish she never lost my number because I lost hers. 

For some reason I keep thinking about her.  I have another girl that I think is cheating on me, but what do I know.  I’m still little and there is plenty of fish is the sea.  What I mean is there are plenty of girls out there.

1/11/2002

Today I wasn’t so bored like always. 

I’m wresting.  I started wresting in Nov. 28, 2001. 

And it’s now 1/14/02. 

The big thing about this is I pinned some guy

in 2 seconds.  It never felt better. 

I hope I can do it again.

1/8/2003

I keep falling in love with people who probably are not interested in me.  Oh, well.  I wish that I was, will and be bigger than anyone in the world muscle wise.

That is I also wish I had a girlfriend that’s love and cares for me.  I hope I won’t be so alone with no one at age 16.  I’m bored.  “Sigh” good-night

10/07/2003

I like school and school likes me.  There are people to talk to don’t feel so alone today as you can tell.  Sometimes I feel alone but today I just don’t care.  I hope it’s the same tomorrow.  It would be popular.  We’ll see.

6/26/2006

Graduation! From high school.  I’m sad.  I’ll miss all that were so nice to me. 

4/13/2008

Wow!  Looking at what I’ve said in my journal makes me want to burn it or start over.  I’ve skipped so many things and also I’ve skipped the good things that happen to me.  Now my journal doesn’t even make sense to me.  Oh well, in October last year I’ve met my girlfriend, [Sharon].  I love her and now I can’t go so crazy.  Any more. LOL  Like when I put in my journal that I’m “ing lonely”

This journal makes me sound like a little boy, a sad, dad, little boy

Last entry:

What is wrong with me?  How come girls won’t talk to me.  And when they do, they don’t want to?  I do the best I can to be good.  I’ve heard so many times good things come to those who wait LOL not happing.  I really really really want a girlfriend.  My heart hurts because no girl is giving me a chance to love.

I had mentioned writing from journal jars in this post and as I was answering a question, I thought of a new way to journal and clean up my photos at the same time.

I have gone through different photos and provided more detail than just the title of the photo.  Most of my descriptions have been really short.

“I can’t say for certain why this photo was taken, but I can give a brief description about the outfits that Kayla and I are wearing. 

“Grandma Mary saved up money and would travel each year to different countries.  With this particular year she had gone to Scotland.  She purchased the red plaid in Scotland and had sent the fabric to mom.  Mom made these matching outfits for me and Kayla”

I suppose I could elaborate more about mom’s willingness to sew and her diligence to finish projects.  She said her favorite part about sewing is that she would get so caught up in whatever project that she would forget to eat.  She believed that by forgetting to eat that she would be able to lose weight.

“This was taken on Christmas morning.  Patrick and I are wearing our new pajamas.  I also received this robe.  That was the same year I received my first (and I suppose my only) Chrissy doll and a paint spinner”

Other descriptions were more elaborate and had nothing to do with the photo really.  For example, I had come across one of my cousin Jackie and me and my mom holding Corey when he was just a few months old.  Didn’t remember the picture.  But I wrote about Jackie and how we’re related and houses I had remembered visiting in Magna, Utah.

I wrote down the names of all of Jackie’s siblings and her husband and four children.  I also mentioned that Jackie and mom and I had worked together at the ice cream store several years after the picture was taken.

Mom once wrote:  “My journal writing has been so erratic.  I wonder if anyone will ever read these or be in the least bit interested in what I have written.”

Perhaps we don’t feel like what we write is worthwhile or carries any value.  Actually our words are quite valuable – especially to our posterity who is experiencing the same feelings that we felt. 

Mom and I have often used our own journals as a reference.  We’ll need to provide a specific date for work or health and when we know the details of the surrounding events, we can usually find whatever it is we’re looking for.

Corey says mom always detailed the amount of tips that were taken in or that we each received each night she worked at the ice cream store.

I don’t expect that my journal will ever be made well known as the diary of Anne Frank (for example) but that isn’t why I keep a journal.  I do it for myself.  I continue for Jenna. 

My writing gets hard to read at times.  Especially when my mind is going faster than my pen (which it often does) and there have been times when I have tried to transcribe my own journal.  That is actually quite difficult for me as I often want to change it.  I would elaborate with some entries and choose to discard others.  I don’t even know how much original I have.  Now that I think about it, I know there is some that got thrown out when mom’s house was cleaned.  Nate had told me that there was a box of stuff that belonged to me.  I told him to throw it out without even looking at it.  I figured if I hadn’t bothered with it for over ten years, I could certainly part with it.  Too late now.

My advice to all my readers would be to take the time to write your own history.  It will mean the world to those you leave behind.

Journal Jars

I once attended a Relief Society enrichment meeting where we made “journal jars”.  What is a “journal jar”? you may ask.  It is a jar containing questions that will hopefully provoke thought to get written answers one may record in his or her journal. 

Questions like:

“Do you remember your grandparents?  What special memories do you have?”

          “Did you have a favorite radio or TV show as a child?”

          “Tell about the changes you have seen in your lifetime: society in general, technology, fashion, politics, laws, inventions, etc.”

          Jenna absolutely LOVES to explore these questions – or my answers rather.  Often she can answer for herself, but many ask for detail on things that she hasn’t experienced yet such as marriage, parenting, high school, dating, etc.

          The idea of the journal jar is to record memories.  But Jenna loves to use it as a conversation piece or in place of playing games.  And I like that she likes it.