Henry James, a Re-Post

I really don’t know how to write about Henry James. His is such a sad story and it breaks my heart when I think of his short, pain filled life. I don’t have a lot of stories to tell because there were not a lot of happy incidents that come to mind. He was born on November 10, 1955 in San Jose, California. He was loved greatly and I remember he had huge eyes and a captivating smile. He was born a few months before his cousin; Lisa Susan Magnon Scherer was born on April 30, 1957.

He was not quite a year old when we moved to Dallas in the fall of 1956. We lived in the house my parents rented before they purchased the home two doors down. At about 3 PM on April 2, 1957, a Category 3 tornado hit Dallas. My mother was in the kitchen and had told me to watch Henry as I watched TV in the den. Evelyn was also in the den watching TV. An announcement on TV warned of the tornado. I ran and told Mom and she tuned in the radio to KLIF and listened to the Tornado Warning. We were told to go to a shelter or into the smallest room in the center of the house. That was the hallway. Sitting in the hall, Mom held Henry and Evelyn and I huddled together. Mom couldn’t hear the radio very well, but was afraid to go to her bedroom to turn it up. Finally she broke to the radio and turned it up.

It was about that time when Evelyn and Henry came down with the Chicken Pox. Evelyn was covered with spots, but Henry had only a couple of pock marks. He hardly was sick during that bout. Between then and our moving back to California after my Dad lost his job with Slick Airways, I have almost no memories of Henry James.

We moved back to San Jose in the spring of 1958. We stayed with Aunt June for a few days. I remember waking up with my Mother screaming “MY BABY”. Aunt June wouldn’t let us come out of the bedroom. An ambulance arrived and left. It was the next morning I would learn that Henry James was taken to the hospital. He had gone into convulsions when my Mother started screaming. He stayed in the hospital for a few days and was diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes. He stayed in the hospital while the doctors regulated his insulin levels. He came home after a few days and apparently didn’t have many more problems at that time.

We went to Clear Lake, CA on vacation some time later. Aunt Bell had a place there and they let us go up there for a few days. I had been there with Aunt June and Uncle Lee sometime earlier. I must have been 15 because Evelyn was 12, and that is a whole other story. Evelyn and I had a lot of fun. We went out in Uncle Jim’s boat and there was a dance almost every night in the park where we were staying. We had planned on staying longer than we did, but Henry got sick. He was in pain and she took him to a local doctor. When they got back, we packed up and headed back home. He was admitted to the hospital again. He was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis.
This disease would take its toll on his frail body. He was in and out of the hospital several times, then seemed to settle down and he came home and went back to school. He was 6 and in the First Grade.

One of my favorite memories of Henry, perhaps the only one, happened one summer day when we were at home. Our house was not air conditioned, like most homes in Central California then, so we had a screen door on the front, back and patio doors. I was sitting on the front porch steps doing something. Henry was in the living room on the other side of the screen, and we were talking. As we were talking, a girl about 16 walks by the house on the sidewalk. At the top of his lungs he yells, “HELLO THERE CUTIE!” She looked up and kept walking. She could not see through the screen door, so all she saw was me. Had no idea who she was, never saw her again, as far as I know, but I could have crawled under a rock and just died. She never said a word, He thought that was the funniest thing he ever did.

It is sad, but that is about the only thing I remember about Henry without him being in the hospital. Evelyn and I could never go see him while he was in the hospital in San Jose because of the rules about kids going into the hospital. A few months after the incident at the screen door, he had another health crisis and was back in the hospital. It seems that the treatment for the diabetes and the RA conflicted. Every time the doctor’s got one disease under control, the other flared up. His little body was showing signs of the RA. His joints were huge. He spent several weeks in the hospital, then came home. He went back to school again, but only for a short time. Then he was admitted again. This time the doctor made arrangements for him to be transferred to the Stanford Children’s Hospital at Stanford University. He would never come home.

The doctors at SCH tried to regulate the two diseases, but made very little headway. He seemed, in fact, to be worsening. At some point, because of the intense affect on his body, his immune system began to shut down. He was diagnosed with Relapsing Polychondritis a disease that causes inflammation of the joints, particularly the cartilage. As I have read some about this disease, it is rare and the symptoms could easily be mistaken for RA. I wonder if he wasn’t misdiagnosed from the beginning.

My mother would drive to SCH every day to spend time with Henry. Evelyn and I were teenagers and spent a lot of time home alone. On Saturdays we went up to the hospital with Mom, We also went on some Sundays, but usually we stayed home. I remember how frail he was. He laid in bed all day and had developed bedsores. Mom had gotten him a sheep skin to lie on, but it only helped somewhat. If he wanted to sit up in a chair, I would carry him. He could no longer walk. On some visits we could actually take him on an outing for an hour or so. We would load him up in the car and put his wheel chair in the trunk. Then we would go to the mall and walk around and buy him some ice cream. Once we took him to Crystal Springs Reservoir so he could be out doors for a little while. I remember picking him up so he could see something and could feel his heart just racing. I thought how it was not right for his heart to be racing that fast.

At the hospital I would play cars with him. He had lots of Hot Wheels. He was in great pain and I would hold his arm or leg and softly tickle his foot or arm. It relieved the pain to have his foot tickled. When I came in he always wanted me to tickle his foot.

It was about 10 PM one evening after Mom had come home from the hospital. The phone rang and Mom answered it in the kitchen. I heard her call out and collapse on the floor. I took the phone and it was the doctor. He told me that Henry “had expired” a few minutes earlier. Then he told me we needed to make arrangements to have him picked up before the morning. I remember how impersonal he seemed, and how incredulous I was. First, I called the mortuary and made arrangements to have him picked up. Then I called my Dad. He had been talking to Mom earlier that evening and thought it was the operator calling him back. He said he would fly out the next day.

His funeral was three days later at the San Jose Stake Center. I remember the chapel was about half full with family and friends. Henry had an open casket and at the end of the service those present passed by him, paying their last respects. As the family lingered, I stood by his casket and thought how peaceful he looked. As I began to leave, I laid his favorite toy in the casket with him – a little brown monkey with a yellow t-shirt with red letters across the front spelling the monkey’s name – Zip. He was buried at the Santa Clara County Cemetery, next to his Great Grandmother.

I remember how upset I was over his passing. I remember his frail body and the pain he was in. I would hear people say he was in a better place, that he was no longer in pain. I wanted to believe those things I professed to be true, but he was the first person I was close to who died. The night of the funeral I went to bed and Henry appeared to me in a dream. I remember is as vividly now as I did when it happened when I was 18. He stood at the foot of my bed and said that I shouldn’t be sad, that he was okay now. He moved his arms and legs to show me he was without pain. I woke and had a peaceful feeling come over me. I have never doubted since. Years later I would have that same peaceful feeling again, in the Dallas Temple, when I was diagnosed with cancer…but this is not about me.

Dr. Ludwig Von Stitches

I have always been one who thought that laughter is the best medicine. Ever notice when you aren’t feeling well that a dose of laughter will make you feel better much faster than a dose of cod liver oil? Have you ever told a pouting child or a mad adult not to laugh? “Now don’t you laugh; don’t you dare laugh,” and in a matter of seconds the frown disappears and is replaced by a smile or a giggle?

I would much rather laugh. To quote Uncle Albert in the Walt Disney classic movie, Mary Poppins,

“I love to laugh

Loud and long and clear

I love to laugh

It's getting worse ev'ry year”



The more I laugh

The more I fill with glee

And the more the glee

The more I'm a merrier me

It's embarrassing!

The more I'm a merrier me!”

When my children were young, I took this to heart. One day, one of my children came in crying because he or she had hurt a toe. I have no clue where the idea came from, but I said, in my best German (?) accent, “Come over here and let Dr. Von Stitches look at it.”. I had whoever it was lay down on the floor and give me the hurt toe. Then I started doing “this little piggie went to market”, with a slight variation.

“This little piggie went to market.
This little piggie stayed home.
This little piggie had a pizza,
And this little piggie had ---wait,
Piggys don’t eat pizza.

So then I said I would have to “adjust” the piggys. After all, out of whack piggys just wouldn’t do. The adjustment button was on the bottom of their little foot. The more I “adjusted” the piggys, the more they laughed. And the more they laughed, the less they hurt. Soon the tears were gone; replaced by smiles.

Over the years since, Dr. Von Stitches has built quite a practice and has fixed everything from hurt toes to hurt hearts. He still has his original 8 patients, but also has their spouses. And now he has at least 27 more little patients. “Grandpa, will you do my piggys?” “Grandpa, my sister is hurt, will Dr. Von Stitches look at her?” Not only do the kids bring their siblings or cousins, but the parents drag crying kids with boo boos to Dr. Von Stitches or his magic way of turning tears into giggles.

I have noticed that my kids all do “piggys ” on their children. All the piggys eat pizza or peanut butter sandwiches and have to have an adjustment on that special adjustment button. But if grandpa is near by, it’s “go see Dr. Von Stitches. And Ludwig Von Stitches always has available appointments and has his miracle piggy repair bag ready to adjust piggys and make laughs.

The Peace Symbol

The pharmacy tech was, maybe, 25 years old. She was working in the pharmacy this morning at the base hospital clinic I was at and she was helping to fill my prescriptions. To me, her age was important because she was wearing a pair of orange earrings that were the hippie “peace symbols.” The fact that she was just 25 puts her into that group of innocence, of not knowing. At 25, she was probably older than her mother was when her mother first saw the “peace symbol.” The fact that she was working in the pharmacy of a military medical clinic during a time when soldiers were deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan really has nothing to do with my observation. If I had asked her, I would have probably gotten the same reaction from her as I get from my 15 year old grandson who wears a t-shirt with the symbol. It really means nothing … it is a symbol of peace.

The iconic peace symbol is not the upside down broken cross inside a circle, as we have come to accept. The symbol of peace has always been the dove with an olive branch in its claws, or just the olive branch. This symbol dates back to the time of Noah when he released a dove from the ark that returned with an olive branch, telling Noah that the waters were receding off the face of the earth. The symbol we see today has not been the symbol of peaceful times … in fact quite the opposite.

The symbol started out in the ‘50s as the symbol of nuclear disarmament in England and Europe. It came to the United States about 1960 and was picked up by the anti-Vietnam War movement, beginning at the University of Chicago. A couple of years later, it was everywhere and was used to rally the anti-war crowd – mostly college students at the more liberal schools in the country. I remember walking down the street near San Jose State College and seeing the symbol painted on just about everything…graffiti. It was present when student “peace” demonstrations turned violent at The University of California at Berkley, and at Kent State University, resulting in the deaths of students participating in the demonstrations. The National Guard’s shooting of students, while tragic, was a direct result of students assaulting the inexperienced troops called out to protect University property. It was present when anti-war protestors rallied on the National Mall in 1969. And it was present during the infamous visit to North Vietnam by activist Jane Fonda in 1972. Google “1960s peace symbol ”or“ anti-Vietnam War movement and you will find pages of articles about how the peace movement, with its symbols, was responsible for the ending of the Vietnam. In actuality, if you search hard, you will find that it was more responsible for prolonging the war, resulting in the deaths of additional American servicemen.

During the early 1960s, Vietnam was an obscure little country “somewhere near Japan,” and as a 10th grade student in 1960, I wasn’t really sure where Japan was. I had no idea where Vietnam was and the term Indo-China was never used. The US had some military advisors there, but that was about all I knew, if I even knew that much. All through high school, the only foreign news stories I was aware of had more to do with the outrageous hairstyles of The Beatles and whether they would ever be more popular than The Beach Boys. After I graduated from high school, I had to register for the draft. My fear of being drafted didn’t involve going to war, but whether or not I was going to be able to go on my Mission before I was drafted. All of that changed in August 1964 when the Gulf of Tonkin Incident occurred. In the resulting resolution, the Congress gave President Johnson the authority to use military force in Southeast Asia without a formal Congressional declaration of war. The build-up of American forces in Vietnam was rapid, and I began to wonder if I would stay out of the draft long enough to even go on a Mission.

I entered the Mission Home in Salt Lake City in September 1965 and was told that Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve, was the Church’s representative working to get Missionaries their ministerial draft deferments, but that it was not a done deal until the deferments were secured. Two days later, I got the word that my 2Y Ministerial deferment had been approved and I was going to be a missionary. As I came to the end of my mission, the escalation of the war was in full force and we were beginning to hear about the war in our homes on the evening news. I was afraid that I wouldn’t get my student deferment, but I did. Attending school in San Jose was an eye opener for me. Everywhere you saw the peace symbol, and every day, a demonstration. More than once my fiancée had to be evacuated from her office because of the tear gas from the police. After that year in school, I transferred to school in Southern California as I obtained a good job and was getting married. Upon my transfer, I couldn’t get the minimum required units and I lost my deferment. A month after my deferment expired, I was in the Army.

On April 30, 1975 the fall of Saigon was complete. The Americans had withdrawn and the country of South Vietnam ceased to exist. Since the end of what became known as the Indo-China War nearly 35 years ago, many books have been written by principals in the leadership of both sides in the conflict. From Rush Limbaugh: “How many of you remember the name General Giap from the North Vietnamese army? … He was a very famous, knowledgeable general in the North Vietnamese army. He's published his memoirs and here's a pull quote: "What we still don't understand is why you Americans stopped the bombing of Hanoi. You had us on the ropes. If you had pressed us a little harder, just for another day or two, we were ready to surrender. It was the same at the battle of Tet. You defeated us. We knew it. We thought you knew it. But we were elated to notice that your media was definitely helping us. They were causing more disruption in America than we could in the battlefield. We were ready to surrender. You had won." He makes the point the Vietnam War was not lost in Vietnam; it was lost [at home].”

For those of us who were there, the Hippies’ peace symbol will always generate hostile feelings towards those who extended our war. The Lord tells us to forgive, and I have forgiven those who participated in the anti-war movement; however, it is their cause and tactics I still remember, as do most soldiers who were there. I have looked at the names on the Vietnam Memorial Wall and wonder how many fellow soldiers whose names are on that wall would be alive today but for the “Peace symbol” and the movement it represented.

GRUMPY OLD MAN

After today I have decided that I will never be old. Therefore, you cannot call me “old and grumpy” anymore, just “grumpy”. This morning I went to the gym to do my bike ride and I noticed all the old people in the parking area. The gym I go to is the city facility and the senior center is located right across the parking lot. A few months ago, when I decided to join the gym, someone told me that I could get a senior discount if I belonged to the senior center. So I went over to take the 50 cent tour of the place. Now, years ago, when my mother was alive and living here, she belonged to the senior center. I had no problem with that because, to me, she had been old my entire life. So she would go to the senior center and square dance (right Holly?), have lunch, do ceramics, and get free bread. So I figured that if I had to join to get the discount at the gym, I could use a free loaf of bread every now and then. I took the tour just before lunchtime the day I went. The gentleman giving me the tour was just a year or two younger than General Eisenhower….and I am sure he knew him personally. He told me the senior center had its own gym, which should have sent up a red flag right there. He took me in and told me that I could use the equipment at no charge, (there were several pieces, but only 1 of each) but that I had to first take a 4 week training course on the equipment before I could use it. He then took me to the “library”. There were about 50 books….but it also was equipped with two computers and their instructor would teach me how to use them. After the library we went to the lunch room. They serve lunch every day at 11:30 and dinner at 4:30. This gave me pause because the center is closed on the weekends, so I wondered where the old folks ate on Saturday and Sunday; but I digress. He told me I was there just in time for lunch …. and only $2.00. I looked into the dining area and I was reminded of the countless nursing homes I have visited over my life. It looked and smelled just like them all. By now I was so depressed I thanked the tour guide and told him I would get back with him if my wife and I decided we wanted to join. Then I decided to go to the gym facility and check it out. As a senior (over 55 – seniors get younger every year, it seems), I could join for only $10 a month. A quick tour and I knew this was okay. No classes, no ceramics, and no lunch. Before I left I was a full-fledged member of the Tommy Harris Fitness Center.

This morning, after my workout, I was sitting outside on a bench in front of the gym, cooling down; enjoying my music and the breeze, as I do every morning. I noticed that the parking lot was especially full because of some type of training for police officers taking place in the gym facility. Cars were moving up and down the parking aisles, drivers looking for places to park. It became obvious that the drivers were members of the senior center because they only looked for places near the center …. Up and down the aisles looking for a parking space to magically appear. Across the lot, away from the center, there was plenty of parking….but not near enough I guess. Reluctantly, some finally took spaces further away and took the long trek to the center. I could tell by the body language and hand gestures being displayed in conversations with others, that they were not happy that someone had the audacity to park in the senior side of the lot! (It sort of reminded me of the parking lot at my high school with underclassmen parking in the sacred senior side).

Then today I had to go to the PX to check on moving my prescriptions from Walgreens to the Darnell Pharmacy. I was also looking for a couple of items I needed to buy since I was there anyway. I became aware of an announcement being made over the PA system….it was the second or third time I heard it, but now I was listening to it…mostly because the sound of the voice was annoying. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special showing today of a product not normally available in the Exchange”, the announcement said. We are giving away a free sample of the product today only, in just a few minutes, to all adults in the Exchange who would like to have one. This product will be available here at Fort Hood and at no other Exchange in Texas. You have seen this product on QVC and the Home Shopping Network”. Now, I never watch either one, but that made me realize that I wasn’t interested in anything they were giving away. And never at anytime were we actually told what the product was. The demonstration and giveaway was taking place in the center of the store, where the toy department and garden department intersect. Now, I had to weave my way right thru that part of the store to get to the exit. My first reaction was “what is going on that there is such a bottleneck here? Then I realized that I was in the midst of the giveaway area. I also noticed that all the people clamoring around for a free sample were old. I wondered if the Senior Center knew all these people had escaped! Old gray haired women in sneakers and old potbellied men with khaki shorts, black loafers and long white socks that went halfway up between their calf and knee, milling around waiting for the coveted free thingamajig. It was more than I could stand and decided right then and there I would never be old and grumpy – just grumpy!

Letter to Senator Cornyn and Congressman Carter

This is a copy of the letter I sent to Senator John Cornyn (R-TX) and Congressman John Carter (R-TX) in reference to troop reduction levels at Fort Hood.

The Honorable Senator John Cornyn and the Honorable Representative John Carter;

Fort Hood has been a major part of the defense of the United States for many years. Most of the weapons systems in uses by today’s Army, as well as other Services, were tested and fielded at Fort Hood. The M1 Abrams Tank and the Apache helicopter are two of the major weapons systems that came from this process. The current modernization of the Army has come from the Force XXI development and testing at Fort Hood.

With III Corps, 1st Cavalry Division and 4th Infantry Division all headquartered at Fort Hood, a major portion of the defense forces of the United States are located within the Central Texas area and is has a major impact on the economy and standard of living of the residents of Bell and Coryell Counties, as well as areas in all directions on the compass from Fort Hood.
In an article in the Killeen Daily Herald (15April2009), LTG Rick Lynch, Commander III Corps and Fort Hood, announced the troop levels would decline from the 2009 level of 53,146 to 45,872 by 2013. This reduction of 7,200 plus troops, plus families and civilian support components, will have a huge negative impact on the communities that surround the post. This includes everything from schools to retail and housing.

Countless millions of dollars have been spent on the infrastructure of Fort Hood, primarily since the involvement of Fort Hood in Operation Desert Shield and Operation Desert Storm in the early 1990s. Moving 7200 soldiers to other installations would conceivably require many tax dollars to upgrade those installations. During the current economic climate, how wise is the expenditure of the American people’s tax dollars to build elsewhere what is already available at Fort Hood?

While the move of the 4th Infantry Division to Fort Carson seems to be a done deal, the realignment of the force could easily allow for another Division size unit to headquarter at Fort Hood. The pending arrival of the First Army Division West's headquarters is a start. I urge you to work hard to insure the troop, family, and support population at Fort Hood remain at least at the 2009 levels.

Sincerely,

Raymond F. Pritchard
SFC, Retired
United States Army

Sheets in the Wind

SHEETS IN THE WIND
By
Frank Pritchard


Sheets swayed back and forth in the wind as my Mom hung bed sheets on the line to dry. When I think of the home of my youth, I can see that old clothesline with its sheets. And later, my own wife would carry wet sheets out to the clothesline to dry in the sun so we could have the aroma of air dried sheets as we lay down at night.

The gymnasium was full. The bleachers were covered with bottoms. Excitement was building by the minute. The noise was deafening. The walls were covered with banners made from sheets, and homemade signs abounded in the bleachers. This wasn’t the big game at the high school. No basketballs were bouncing on the floor or rebounding off the backboards. The floor was covered with kids of all ages running around and playing. The scene was that of a big party – a celebration. The banners weren’t there to encourage the home team on to victory. The signs were not held by fans encouraging the varsity squad. And this wasn’t the local high school. This gym was on Fort Hood.

The banners screamed out “JOB WELL DONE” and “WELCOME HOME 3RD ACR” or a myriad of other unit names. The signs were held up by waiting families: “WE MISSED YOU DADDY”; “MY HUSBAND, MY SOLDIER, MY HERO” or “MY MOM IS A HERO”. The excitement this day was soldiers coming home from Iraq. The kids on the floor and the families in the bleachers were waiting for the words they had waited for 15 months to hear – “The aircraft has landed!” Later, “The busses are on the way”. Then soldiers running thru the doors and forming up…. Line after line, row after row as these soldiers – officers and enlisted – respond to the “FALL IN” command given by their Commanding General.

The Chaplain thanked God for their safe return and prayed for the safety of those soldiers still in Iraq. The General thanked the soldiers for their fine performance as they represented their unit, the United States Army and the American people. Finally, the much awaited command, “DISMISSED”.

Soldiers began searching as families were climbing off the bleachers. Eyes met, tears flowed and the slow trickle of wives, husbands, children, and parents quickened. In a matter of just seconds, the scene changed and where there was once military order on the floor, families were embracing, sweethearts kissing and children lifted up into daddy or mommy’s waiting arms. Teenage girls were crying, hugging dad and texting all at the same time.

The gymnasium started to empty as soldiers, who just moments before, had entered as warriors, were leaving as husbands and wives with their children in tow … families reunited.

This scene is not unusual in Army communities. Drive around the city and see magnets on the backs of cars - a torn heart saying “Half my heart is in Iraq”. Yellow ribbon magnets saying, “Support our soldiers.” And sheets hanging on fences. Soldiers, willing to sacrifice their very lives, sacrifice much every day. Children don’t save first steps or first words for daddy to come home. Daddy – Daughter dinners at school or church go on; and the Pinewood Derby at Cub Scouts takes place with Mom rooting her Cub Scout on to victory – her hands still covered with the paint she used to help prepare his car … the one he dedicated to his dad. And, that special anniversary passes with sweethearts half a world apart. Life goes on.

I have been privileged to watch several homecomings on Fort Hood, in gymnasiums, and on the parade field at the 1st Cavalry Division, where soldiers, lined up at attention, are greeted with a charge of the 1st Cavalry Horse Detachment. It is amazing to see 400 soldiers at attention with the horses and wagons charging across the field the bright Texas sun. It is just as amazing at midnight under a full moon. It will absolutely take your breath away when you see just one soldier, who has returned alone, standing at attention, with the full horse detachment making its charge.

I never gave much thought to sheets until recently. When going to work and then coming home, I see the sheets tied to fences, flapping in the Central Texas wind, and one says “WELCOME HOME MOMMY!”

LOOK INTO MY EYE

“LOOK IN MY EYE! LOOK IN MY EYE!” shouted Elder Smith as he pinned me down and his face right in mine, and his glass eye in his hand. “NO, I DON’T WANT TO LOOK!” I yelled. "YOU'RE NOT GETTING UP TILL YOU LOOK!" he yelled back. Then I pushed him back, and it started all over again. We were laughing so hard we could barely breath!

Elder Smith lost his right eye in a farming accident when he was a little boy, and now as a 20 year old missionary, he had his 5th prosthetic eye, and now was trying to get me to look into the empty socket – and I didn’t want to look! I remember well that day, and how hard he tried to get me to look. But, I never looked at any time during the months we were together.

Now it is today, nearly a half century later, and it is me with the prosthetic eye. In the year 2000 I was diagnosed with a Choroidal Melanoma in my right eye. In layman's terms, I had skin cancer in my right eye. Unusual, indeed! The choroid layer of the eye has the same tissue as the epidermis or skin, therefore, it is possible to literally get skin cancer in the eye, although very rarely. And I am a rare breed and I got it! After the initial treatment of radiation, my tumor began to shrink and the prognosis seemed to be pretty good. The doctor said that I had to get to 10 years to have the procedure be considered a success and me to be officially “cancer free”. Then in 2005, the tumor began to grow again. The treatment was then considered to be a failure, and the only recourse was to have my right eye surgically removed.

This was not an easy thing for me to accept. I was losing a part of me, not like tonsils or a diseased appendix. I was losing an eye that still worked and of which I had no symptoms of being sick. In 2000, the choice was to remove the eye or have the radiation treatment. My daughter, Hilary’s suggestion was to have the eye removed and then have it replaced with a glass eye – so the kids would have something to dive after.

Now it is me with the glass eye. Actually, it isn’t glass, but acrylic. I posed for the eye as it was hand painted to match the left one. Upon close inspection, one can see some slight flaws, but all in all, it is an exact duplicate of my good eye. I have had doctors who have been amazed at how good it looks.

The kids don’t dive after it in the pool, but the first request I get whenever the kids are together is “Grandpa, take your eye out”. And little Jared is the funniest of all. He isn’t satisfied for me to just take my eye out. He likes to touch it and to wear it. I think I will always picture him with my eye on his forehead or in his eye. I wonder if he will be scarred for life?

May We Have More Pie, Please!

It is kind of funny when you think of the level of understanding our children have. I would love to delve into the mind’s of these little ones and try to figure out how they think. Which of life’s little experiences have helped form their thoughts and understanding? What meanings do they give the words they hear?

On Sunday evening when the family was gathered together for dinner, the little ones were playing quietly. When the kids found out that no special dessert had been made for after dinner because all the adults figured that their figures could do without, these little ones started discussing desserts. The discussion ended up centering around pie. “I like pecan pie” declared 7 year old cousin, Rachael. “My favorite is pumpkin pie” replied her 7 year old cousin, Colby. Now, here is where I wish I could be in on all the conversations of these little ones. The third cousin in this little group was 5 year old Maddie. Since her daddy owns a pizza restaurant, her understanding of this word is somewhat different. Her daddy always refers to his pizzas as “pies”, so it really is no surprise that when she said her favorite was pepperoni pie.

Her cousins told her that pepperoni was not pie, but to her it was – and I am sure that it will always will be. PEPPERONI pizza PIE!

Missionaries All

I want to let everyone know that Mom and I have put in our papers to serve a mission. We are applying for a local mission, serving as Military Relations Missionaries. When we are called, we will receive training here. We will not have to go to the MTC. Don't know what the time table is for receiving the call, but we are looking forward to it. We have been wanting to serve a Military Relations Mission, but are not yet able to leave home. There is a great need here in the Fort Hood area as the full time MRM's left and no one is scheduled to take their place. We are excited.

A FIRE IN THE PASTURE 2008

The smoke could be seen from the road. Gently it billowed up into the blue sky. As we turned off the road onto the dirt driveway we could easily see the source of the smoke. It was Thanksgiving weekend and Mimi’s birthday, and the smoke was from the fire in the pasture. As I looked to the place in the pasture where the brush was piled and burning, I could see little boys stoking the fire with their sticks as in years past. Little girls were there being properly ignored, but taking in the aroma and building the memories that will last all their lives. No matter what happens in the future, these memories are etched permanently in that place in the brain where the memories of pleasurable events are stored.

We honked the horn. Mimi and Grandpa were here and the kids bolted from the fire to the car. Hugs and kisses were had by all. Then the kids started grabbing luggage and tugging on the handles to pull suitcases up the gravel walk to the house. In the house more hugs and kisses. You would have thought we never see each other. With the exception of Heidi, our homes are only a few miles apart. Hilary wouldn’t arrive until late that evening, having gotten a late start from Fort Knox. The weather was cooperating and all would travel and arrive under blue or starry skies.

There were new babies this year and a new requirement for cribs. The cribs required bedrooms so the babies would not keep others awake in the event they had a hard time sleeping. So Mimi and Grandpa all of a sudden were out of a room. Actually, other accommodations could have been made, but it was just easier on all for us to go to town and stay in the motel. As it turned out, the motel was being renovated by the new owners and it was nice, clean and cheap! We were afraid that perhaps the train, which passes just yards from the motel, would awaken us often as the trains rumbled through town. But, we heard not a click nor a clack and we slept well. We stayed at the house late in the evenings and arrived in time for breakfast every morning….usually via the way of Wal-Mart! After our experience, others are now thinking that they may volunteer to stay at the motel in the future.

As the weekend got into full swing, I noticed that the fire in the pasture was often going unattended. Where were the boys? What happened to the girls and their directing the efforts of the boys to make the fire burn better? Nintendo. The boys had graduated to the electronic age and were engaged in whatever little boys play on a DS. The little girls wondered around and played what little girls play when boys are not attending the fire. The older boys were gearing up for the hunt. There was target practice and the sighting in of the sights on the rifles. Learning safety tips from their Dads and making sure the cammo was properly worn. And the older girls were just being older girls…trying to figure out how they could get someone to take them shopping. They settled for the movies with Aunt Cindy, to see a vampire and to eat at Olive Garden.

The family was ready to eat! Thanksgiving had arrived. This year dinner would be at 6’ish so the great hunters could take as many deer that they could that day. Turkeys were roasted and deep fried. Potatoes were mashed and gravyied. Sweet potatoes were casseroled and candied. Dressing was wonderful! Cranberries were ---- well, cranberries. And the pies! Is there ever enough pie! We ate and ate, talked and talked, and laughed and laughed. It was a Thanksgiving that fit in with all our past Thanksgivings, yet so different. And we all are already looking to 2009!

On Friday the rains came….and came. Kids stayed in the house. Some of the adults ventured out to Wal-Mart and Black Friday. And unlike New York, everyone was friendly and helpful…and no clerks were trampled to death. The fire in the pasture endured the day. And, even though we were crowded in the house and often had to talk above the noise, not a cross word was spoken. Movies and football were the order of the day. Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit occupied many of the adults. And food! And at the end of the day, the rain continued.

By the weekend the rain had stopped and the kids were outside. I noticed that no one was at the fire. Then I noticed that the fire in the pasture had drowned. All during the rain, the fire continued to smoke, but in the end, it was no match for the rain and humidity. Not so for the enthusiasm of the kids and the parents. And next year our 5 year olds will be 6 year olds; a whole new crop of boys at the age to stoke the fire and a bunch of girls to tell them how to do it. And the hunter’s? Well, there is always next year!

With the words, “Color guards, post colors”, the Eagle Scout Court of Honor was under way. Joshua was receiving the Eagle Scout rank he had earned during his youth as a Boy Scout. The Weblos Den from Ashdown that Jacob belongs to was the color guard. These younger Scouts proudly carried the American and Troop flags to the front and upon command from the Senior Patrol Leader (and Eagle Scout Candidate), the boys placed the colors in the flag holder on each side of the rostrum. In the front, facing the audience was the Eagles Nest, the area where all those holding the rank of Eagle Scout sat. The program progressed and then it was time for comments of encouragement to the new Eagle Scout. “We call him “Pooter” “, stated Uncle Chad. Aunt Heather then explained how he got that name and the integrity that the name “Pooter” represented.

Following the Court of Honor, the family moved to the baptismal font. With Grandpa presiding and Uncle Scott conducting, Jannie entered the waters of baptism and was baptized by her Daddy, Paul. A few minutes later, with her Grandpa, Uncles and Cousin assisting, Jannie was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, again by her Daddy. What a neat experience to have a room filled only with family, all enjoying the moment of joy for Jannie.

Then Brandon came forward, and with all the Priesthood still in the front, Brandon took a seat and his Dad, Brett, ordained him to the office of Teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood. What a special time for all three that Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend.

On Saturday afternoon, Gunner, Hilary’s dog, was loving life on the farm. He was out renewing friendships with the family dogs and checking out the wildlife. Flower wasn’t as gentle and sweet as he was in Bambi. Flower left his calling card all over Gunner. Gunner then got a firsthand experience with tomato juice and Summer’s Eve. But Flower’s aroma prevailed and Gunner was relegated to his kennel for the remainder of his visit to Arkansas. Poor Gunner.

The fire in the pasture went out early in the rain. But the rain didn’t dampen the fire in our hearts. We all had fun, and a lifetime of memories were made. We now look forward to the Christmas holidays and the New Year, but it is the Thanksgiving adventures on a little farm in rural Arkansas where a fire in the pasture continues to burn in the recesses of our minds and rekindles the feelings of the eternal nature of families and our lives.

My Hawaii

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I have been blessed to be have an assignment as beautiful as this. I hate TDY's, but this sure beats the heck out of Dugway Proving Ground! Enjoy the pics.

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Sunset Beach Hawaii Sunset

I finally got to see my first Hawaiian Sunset this evening. Thanks to my children who gave me a neat digital camera for a gift last year, I got to take some fantastic pictures. Enjoy them.

In Hawaii ****

“In Hawaii there’s a place known as Waimea Bay, where the best surfers in the world come to stay. And ride the wild surf, they come to try to conquer those waves some thrity feet high” (Ride the Wild Surf by Jan and Dean)

Well, Waimea Bay is just a hop, skip and jump from where I am, but here I am in the land of splendid sunsets, so I decided to see one tonight. Where should I go to see a Hawaiian sunset? Not Waimea Bay, but Hawaii’s Sunset Beach, naturally. So after dinner I drove over to Sunset Beach … my condo is about 3 miles from there. When I got to Sunset Beach, I found me a good place to sit and watch the sunset. The sky was partly cloudy, so I figured it would be spectacular! There would be shards of sunlight streaming from the sun and clouds right up until the sun sizzles as it dips into the ocean. The sun would set in about an hour – but the clouds kept rolling in … an in … and in! Then there was no sun and the rain began. So I set the calendar on my watch to remind me to try it again tomorrow. But I did get some good photos of Sunset Beach. Enjoy.

SQUIRRELS

Click on the Squirrel!

This morning I got a text message from Heather: “So I have BBQ’d squirrel in my backyard & no power.” It reminded me of the dead squirrel the power crew found in my yard while restoring my power when a squirrel got fried in the transformer.

This got me to thinking about squirrels and wondering how such a cute little animal could be such a pain in the rear. First and foremost, we have to forget the Walt Disney images of this little critter. He is a rodent! A rat is a rodent! So these little Chip and Dales are just rats with furry tails.

But they are so cute, and they don’t eat much – JUST ALL THE PECANS OFF MY TREES! I haven’t had a decent harvest of pecans in years. I remember as a boy my Uncle Lee had walnut trees in his backyard and had the same problem – darn squirrels ate all the walnuts. So he got a little terrier dog, Daisy June, and gave her the run of the backyard. She would bark at anything that had 4 legs and moved, especially in trees. The result was his neighbors complaining they had no walnuts and that Uncle Lee always had a bumper crop. So I figured that if Daisy June could scare the squirrels away, then my dogs could too. There must be something scarier about a Terrier because the wiener dog and the Schnauzers did nothing to get rid of the little nut thieves. So here was my dilemma, how do I get rid of the squirrels?

One afternoon I was sitting on the swing in the backyard with a couple of my grandchildren watching birds eat from the bird feeder. Squirrels are infamous for stealing the feed from the bird feeders. So I figured I would place my bird feeders where the squirrels couldn't get to them. Worked like a charm. Whenever the little birdies came to eat from the feeders, they always had plenty of food because the little thieving critters couldn't get to the seed. But that didn’t mean that I had outsmarted them, not one bit. When I went to get bird feed from the BBQ cart where I stored the feed, it was gone. They had figured how to get in and take the seed from the source. I know one little squirrel was sitting on a branch of the pecan tree, eating a pecan and laughing at me.

One summer we had a squirrel that had no tail. This seemed to fascinate the kids. We don’t know why the varmint had no tail, but I could imagine it losing it in a fight with a cat, or a trap, or some other means of torture. One thing, it made it easy to watch the squirrel that summer because we always could tell “our squirrel”.

Now, the little darlings stealing my pecans was bad enough, but then we began to hear what we thought were mice in the attic. You see, here in Central Texas, we have a complete array of critters that can take up residence above your residence. I once heard someone complain that they could hear animals in their attic. I just said, “Welcome to Texas. Well, one afternoon while in the backyard I saw a squirrel jump from the tree to the roof, then in thru the vent below the eaves of the house. Great! I checked the vent and where there was once screen, there was nothing but air.

One day I asked Val’s dad, an exterminator, the best way to get rid of squirrels. He told me tomatoes and poison. Squirrels love tomatoes and if I mix a little poison that I could get from the local feed store, I could wipe out an entire colony in a few days. He gave me some instructions on how to do this without killing off other animals. You know, I thought, this might just work. But I never got passed the thinking part.

One day I got some wire mesh and when I figured the little demons had left for the day, I had Scott go up into the attic and seal off the vents. It worked! Didn’t hear a single squirrel – for at least 2 days. Then they were BACK! We could sit in the living room and listen to them doing what ever it was they do. Just have to do something before they destroy my wiring (they love to eat the insulation on wires).

Now this is where I can say, “Meanwhile, back at the ranch”. Holly was complaining that she had squirrels up in her attic, too. So we called the exterminator to come and clear them out. They used traps, etc and a couple of visits to get them. But not without bodily injury, and not to the rat, but to me! The exterminator had gotten rid of all but one – RAMBO! I went out into the garage to get something and “there I was”, face-to-face with Rambo. He jumped and I jumped. He wanted to get back to the attic, only I was between him and the opening. So he jumped up onto the window sill and made a leap to freedom….onto a PVC pole sticking up into the attic opening. Why it was there, I have no idea. Rambo leaped and grabbed the pole and his little legs and feet were going like mad climbing that pole. Only problem – it was PVC. There was nothing for his little feet to grab. The faster he climbed, the faster he slid down the pole. Now I figured the best way out of this mess was to open the garage door, so I made a dash to the door before Rambo made it to the floor. The door went up and he saw FREEDOM – and away he went. Last time I saw him he was skirting out the garage door.

Now this all occurred in just less than a minute. Then the exterminator guy comes out into the garage and sees a large shelf unit that reached right up to the opening into the attic. He asked me to help him move it over so Rambo couldn't get back in. BIG MISTAKE! This is where the “bodily injury” part comes into play. I pushed and my knee tore. Surgery and 6 months of recovery - which is another chapter in some future post.

“Meanwhile, back at the other ranch”, we still had squirrels. I asked Scott to look around the eaves of the house to see if he could see where they were getting in. He first checked his handiwork with the mesh wire, and it was all good. Then every nook and cranny, and then he found it. Right above my bedroom window the squirrels had chewed an opening – we had found the back door. So Scott rolled the mesh wire and shoved it into the opening. The next morning I am awakened by the pattering of little feet above my head. Papa Squirrel was heading out to work, He stopped, and then I hear him run back. Then the whole herd passes over, I can hear them hitting at the mesh for several minutes. It was actually fascinating to hear…too bad I didn’t have a video camera up there. Then success and away they all scurried. I could hear them jump on to the eaves, then quiet. I went out and secured the opening. The saga of the squirrels was over. Almost.

I still wanted to get rid of the little buggers. In the mean time, Heather and Shawn moved in their new house, right behind us. Shawn, along with Brett, Paul and Shawn, had taken up deer hunting. Shawn also took up bow hunting and practicing for the Thanksgiving Smack Down, he took to target practice. Hitting the bull’s-eye on a target affixed to a hay bale was easy. He needed moving targets. Squirrels. He began stalking the little critters and got pretty darn good. And except for a missed aim that took down a swimming pool filter, he got pretty good. And our squirrel population seems to have either expired or moved on. Now I have to figure out where to get all these pecans shelled!

We Must Never Forget!

DeDespite all the rhetoric from the politicos and the conspiracy theorists, this was a second day of infamy and a day we must never forget.

Target Target

The joke around here is that if you want to save money, shop at Target – they never have what you what. Actually, there is more truth than fiction in that statement, as far as I am concerned. The other night is the classic example; but before I get to that story, let me tell you why I make this bold statement.

I have purchased very little over the years in Target, mainly because they never have what I want. I have gone into the store with Mom to get this or that and end up buying a package of napkins or a Snickers candy bar, but not what we came in to buy. I first began to notice this when I went to buy a plastic tub and they were out. Later I went to buy something they had on sale that I wanted for Christmas decorations, and they were out.

We were in Bryan one Christmas time for a cousins party at Bug’s when we decided to go pick up something at the store. Cindy was with us and wanted to stop at Target to get a gift she needed for her kids. I said that I could save her a lot of time because they wouldn’t have it. She said surely they would because it was advertised on sale in the paper. She trudged into the store and some time later became a believer – they were out of stock!

In 2006 I was in Utah working and was getting ready to head home at the end of the job. One Saturday afternoon I was to meet my cousins, Dovey and Judy for lunch so we could say our goodbyes. The restaurant we chose was in the same center as a Target. I needed something and forgetting the curse on the store, I ventured in to make my purchase. The shelf was completely empty! I started to laugh out loud and said “of course”. Until the other night, that was the last time I ever ventured into a Target.

Now here in Killeen; Harker Heights actually, there is a new shopping center. Very nice and very large – Market Heights. This outdoor mall contains many shopping, eating and viewing opportunities, one of which is the new Target. On the way home the other night, Mom decided we needed to go in to see the store. It was larger than the old Killeen store, so she wanted to see what they had. I must admit, the facility was very nice, modern and clean. The shopping carts were something at which to marvel. All plastic and very quiet. While we were there, Mom mentioned she had forgot to stop at Walgreen’s to pick up some aftershave lotion for me and thought she could just pick some up here. I made my flippant remark about them not having any and we proceeded to the isle where the shaving things were. We found lots of brands of shaving cream, lot of different razors, tons of deodorant, BUT NOT A SINGLE BOTTLE OF AFTERSHAVE! I couldn’t believe it! We looked and looked, up one isle and down another. When we decided we wouldn’t find any, we looked for a clerk. We found one in the front of the store and she said that all they had was out on the selves. I started laughing out loud. I was amazing to me that I apparently have the ability to put this curse on Target.

Now, in all fairness to Target, Mom went back and climbing to the top shelf, and way in the back of the shelf, she found 3 bottles of Aqua Velva – but only 3 and all of one size. But to the average shopper, there would have been none. I would not have climbed to the top shelf! BUT, now that this is brought to light, next time I venture into Target to buy some non-existent sale item, I am checking the top shelf first!

Memorial Day Swim

Yesterday was Memorial Day and, even though it is a day late, thank you
to all the veterans who happen to read this! On Memorial Day we
usually have a BBQ and swim in the pool. At the end of last week it was
"iffy" as to whether or not the pool would be ready. But, thanks to KFD, it
was.

I went down to the Killeen Water Department on Friday and picked up a
hydrant water meter ($650 deposit, which I get back today when I return
the meter, less the charge for the water). I went to the fire
department to see if I could borrow some 1 ½ inch fire hose to fill my pool.
The Lieutenant I spoke with told me that the only person who could
authorize the loaning of the hose was on leave, so I was out of luck. BUT, he
said he could send a fire truck over to fill the pool. GREAT! So when
I got home from work, Holly and I (mostly Holly) finished pressure
washing the pool and pumping out the old water. We got most of it out, but
there was a little we could not get because of the time factor. When
the fire truck arrived (lots of looks from the neighbors), the fire crew
used a 2 ½ inch hose, and had the pool filled in an hour and thirty
five minutes! Only problem, the water was brown! No problem I assured
everyone, who looked at me skeptically. I tested the water before I
treated it and found the PH level to be extremely high. No problem, when I
shocked the pool I would add a half gallon of muriatic acid, which
brings down the PH. But, when I went to get a gallon of acid, I couldn't
find it. So I just shocked the pool. The next morning the brown water had
turned to green. Now the skeptics were out in full force. I tested the
water and the shock had brought the PH level way down, so I actually
had to add PH increaser. A few hours later, I added some flock to clear
the water. On Sunday morning the water was crystal clear and BLUE! I am
so good! Then on Memorial Day I vacuumed the pool and now it is blue,
clear and swimmable.

We had been invited to Brett and Cindy's for a Memorial Day BBQ, but
Mom had worked and was very tired. I was doing the yard and was beat
myself. So we begged off going. Then at the last minute, Heather changers
her plans and had a BBQ. so we walked over and had dinner. Earlier in
the late afternoon, I was in the house cooling off and resting a bit when
Tyler came in and asked if they could swim in the pool and use the
diving board. I told them sure, and then went out and joined them. Later,
Maddie came and I swam with her. After an hour, older kids decided to
go back over to McCourt's Pool. A few minutes later, Kimber and Maddie
went to Heather's too. I got dressed and Mom and I went over then, for
dinner. So we had a BBQ and went swimming on Memorial Day...tradition
unbroken.

Next big thing is when Hilary and her kiddos come down for a couple of
weeks. The pool will be ready!

SWIMMING POOL

Definition: Swimming Pool – a hole in the ground into which you continually throw money.

I have heard of pants wearing out; and I have heard of shoes wearing out; I have even been worn out myself. But who ever heard of water wearing out. Does it feel dry when it is worn out? I don’t know. Actually, I did know water could wear out. When I was in the pool business we warned people about their water getting to the point where you couldn't’t control it. This happened more in hot tubs with the constant heating, but it also happens to pools. There is a test that can be run to test for chlorine demand, but in the end it us usually cheaper to drain the pool and refill it than it is to bring it back up with chemicals.

I was unable to properly care for the pool this year because I was laid up with my knee. So the pool got out of hand. The water looked like it came from Belton Lake, and smelled that way too. Scott and I shocked it and got it looking good. Before I could clean the pool, here came the rains. Nothing will use up available chlorine in the water faster than a good rain dumping all those contaminants into the water. So after the rain, we shocked it again. Then came round two of the rain. Last Wednesday evening I super shocked the pool. Then on Saturday I shocked it again and added PH increase and flock. When I tested the water on Monday I got a negative reading. The reading should have been off the chart with the amount of chemical I put it, but it was not showing any chlorine and the PH was still extremely low. I decided that it was enough and I got out the old pump and drained the pool. Last night Shawn Mc and I used our pressure washers and pressure washed the pool. We have just a little to finish up tonight. Then I will go to the city and get a hydrant meter and hook it up to the fire hydrant and, using 200 feet of 1 ¾ hose, I will fill the pool. It takes 4 hours this way, compared to 5 days with a hose. And bulk water from a hydrant is much cheaper than coming thru the hose. The meter I get from the city attaches to the hydrant and measures the water we use. With any luck, the pool will be ready for swimming by Saturday.

Mother's Day Talk

This is Mother’s Day, the day we honor our Mothers and the Mothers of our Children.

Brother Lower must be having a “pay back” day for something I must have done because I know he knows that there is no way I will get thru this talk without tears.

The Mothers role in life is one of the most important. President Harold B. Lee said, “The most important part of the Lord’s work that you will do, is the work that you do within the walls of your own home”. You mothers struggle each day to balance your lives between children and everything else, and it is not an easy task. I know because I have had to pinch-hit for my wife on more than one occasion. One time was when my oldest daughter was twelve; it was a Saturday evening and time for baths and hair. Now, I had watched Jannie put curlers in the girl’s hair for years, so I figured I could do it. Heidi still has nightmares of the results. If you were to ask her today about it, she will have flashbacks, “And he made me go to Church”. I am reminded of what I was once told; The Lord never promised life would be easy, only that it would be worth it. Elder Ballard gave a beautiful talk at the last General conference titled “Daughters of God. Among the wonderful points he made, he said, “There is no one perfect way to be a good mother. Each situation is unique. Each mother has different challenges, different skills and abilities, and certainly different children. The choice is different and unique for each mother and each family”.

One of the best examples to me of the results of motherhood is the story of Helaman’s Stripling Warriors. Now, my wife is nervous about now because I have a joke I tell about them, and she asked me not to use it, so I will refrain today. Helaman was asked to lead this band of 2000 young warriors…The Army of Helaman. These young men had great testimonies of the Lord and knew their cause was just. When Helamen asked these young men about their faith, they responded that their mothers had taught them.
In Alma 56:47 we read, “Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them.”
And in 57:21, “Yea, and they did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness; yea, and even according to their faith it was done unto them; and I did remember the words which they said unto me that their mothers had taught them.”

When Brother Lower asked me to speak today he told me that he knew I had a wonderful relationship with my own mother and thought I could share a few stories about her. Right off, I can say without a doubt that she was probably the gentlest person I’ve known.

I am the oldest of my Mothers three children, and the only one still living. My brother, Henry died when he was 8 years old; and my sister, Evelyn when she was 32. In 2000 when I was diagnosed with cancer in my right eye, she bemoaned her fate saying that she wasn’t supposed to outlive her children. Obviously, I survived my bout with cancer. When she was 80, in 1998, she moved into our home where we could help care for her. What a blessing it was to have her with us, and what a close relationship my younger children were able to develop with their Grandmother. She was with us until December 2000, when she passed away in her room. I have many, many stories I could tell about her, but I have picked just three, to show the influence she had, not only in my life, but in the lives of my children.

Who would ever think that their Mother was a pool shark? We were vacationing at the beach in Capitola when I was about fourteen. There was a penny arcade in Capitola where we kids spent some time. This was before video games, but we could play pool. It cost a dime a game. I would play a few games everyday and I thought I was pretty good. One afternoon I was at the arcade when my mother came in looking for me. She watched me play pool and listened to me tell her how great I was at the game. So she challenged me to a game. This would be great, I thought, and immediately accepted her challenge. After all, what fourteen year old boy doesn’t look for the chance to crush and adult in anything? I even let her break. She then almost cleared the table. I think I got one turn before she finished me off. Stunned, I asked her where she learned to play pool. When my Dad with was in the Army, she used to play pool a lot at the Officers club with the other wives. I was schooled. I don’t think I was so braggadocios after that. With a game of pool, she had taught me humility.

My oldest daughter, Heidi, told me the other day of her story with her Grandmother. When we lived in Alaska, Heidi was 13. Gramma had come to spend a few weeks with us, as she did often when we were up there. Gramma loved movies and she and Heidi were going to go one afternoon. There was a movie playing that Heidi wanted to see, but Gramma said that she was afraid that Heidi wouldn’t understand the movie. So they saw something else. Heidi told me that now she is 38 and has never seen that movie. She said that it comes on television quite often and she is always going to watch it. But, when she sits down to watch, she remembers her grandmother telling her that she wouldn’t understand it. So she turns the TV off.

My mother was very conservative and a proud Republican. I tell you this to set up the following story. She also enjoyed playing the devil’s advocate. A few months before she died, and during the 2000 election season between then Governor Bush and Vice President Gore, she and my son, Brett, were having some discussion at the dinner table, in which Brett seemed to be gaining the point. She looked right at him and said “Why, you’re no better than Al Gore! Brett was stunned and we all laughed. Brett told me a story recently when I was sitting with him at his new office. He had told this story to me before, but felt to share it again that evening. Gramma visited Brett shortly after she died. He will not say he had a vision, but he had a dream in which his Grandmother came to him and told him that she loved him. She was smiling. She was afraid that he might have thought that she was mad at him. After they talked for a minute or two, Brett asked her if she had seen Evelyn and Henry. He said that she looked forlorn and then said that she had and that they were well. Brett learned that she regretted that she had spent most of her adult life mourning their deaths; that she had missed out on so much happiness in this life because she was always so sad. And all along, they were well.

To me, one of the greatest examples of Motherhood comes from my wife, Jannie. We had 8 children, and it was not easy. I was in the Army, and was enlisted, and though I was fortunate in that I didn’t have many long deployments, I did have a couple, and a few TDYs along the way. Elder Ballard said, “We need to remember that the full commitment of motherhood and of putting children first can be difficult”. Jannie made her full time job being a full time Mom. This was her commitment to her family. As the Priesthood holder, husband and father, I presided in the home. But, as wife and mother, she conducted. She was the organizer and kept our home and our children immaculate. She took time to teach her children. We always had music in our home, although the only musical instrument either one of us played was the Stereo. She used music to teach. She had all of the Janine Brady cassettes and my kids knew all the words of all the songs. “I’m a Mormon, yes I am”, Be a Friend, The Words You Speak, and Maybe You Laughed. We sang songs about telling the truth and not being afraid. Today, some of my children are teaching their children these same lessons and using the same songs. And for the most part, my daughters and daughters – in – law, learning from Jannie, have chosen to be stay at home moms, or to work from the home. When I was deployed to Korea for a year, she took the time to record Family Home Evenings, and then send me the cassettes. I would get cassette tapes of weekly Family Home Evenings, and listen to my children talk to me. I think the first words I heard Hilary utter was on one of those cassettes. Without a lot of money to work with, Jannie made sure our children were always neatly dressed and pressed and well fed. And she could stretch a dollar better than anyone I ever knew.

Elder Ballard said, “I am impressed by countless mothers who have learned how important it is to focus on the things that can only be done in a particular season of life,” What a joy it is for me to see the growth in my Grandchildren every day. I am in awe with the time my daughters and daughters-in-law take to teach their children. Jared is 15 months old and Valerie has taught him how to sign. When we were tending him the other night, we were impressed that he could communicate in sign language when he wanted a drink, or that he has had enough. At the football game last evening, Jared spent most of the evening with Mimi and Grandpa. When we gave him back to Val, he signed “thank you”. I wish we had known that we could have taught our own kids to sign when they were babies. Maddie seems to me to be far beyond her years (maybe I am just a proud Grandpa), and this comes from the things Kimber takes time to teach her. I can’t help but chuckle when I think of the stories all my children to tell me about the things their kids have done. And these stories are not just limited to my children and Grandchildren. Kids today are growing up far ahead of where children were just a generation ago. And this because you Mothers are recognizing the seasons of life that your children are in.

When Gramma lived with us, Scott was her driver. She wasn’t supposed to drive anymore, so if she needed to go somewhere she had Scott take her. Boy, where the older kids jealous. Scott was sixteen and driving her Lincoln! The night before she died, it snowed here in Killeen. Scott helped her outside so she could see the big snow flakes. The next morning, after we found that she had passed away, we notified the authorities. During the time before the ambulance took her, Scott sat by her bed and held her hand. What a great influence she had on our children. Now, each year, on the anniversary of her death, the family gathers at her grave and remembers Gramma.

Elder Ballard asked this question: What can you do, as a young mother, to reduce the pressure and enjoy your family more?

Recognize that the joy of motherhood comes in moments. There will be hard times and frustrating times. But amid the challenges, there are shining moments of joy and satisfaction.

Author Anna Quindlen reminds us not to rush past the fleeting moments. She said: “The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less”(Loud and Clear [2004], 10–11).
Mothers make things. School projects, lunches, snacks, desserts, arrangements, and even clothes. One thing I challenge you mothers (and fathers) to do is make memories for your children. On Sunday evenings after dinner, the smaller children like to go in the front yard and play. So Mimi and Grandpa will sit out on the front porch so the little ones can romp and play in the front yard. You see, we want the memories our grandchildren have to be the happy times they had at Mimi’s house. The older ones like to swim and on days they are over to use the pool, we get in with them. Ask any of my grandchildren what all the steps are in doing an Olympic class cannonball, and their faces will brighten up as they remember and tell you all the steps, of which there are not a few. There are times my own children, now all adults will sit at the dinner table, or wherever we may be and someone will say “do you remember when, or do you remember this or that?” In many cases, I don’t. But the important thing is that they do. Make memories with your children.

If my mother were alive to give you some advice, I can’t help but think it would be this: Mothers, love your children. Teach your children. Help build their faith. Be a part of their lives. Don’t spend half your life bemoaning things you’ve missed. Mourn the tragedies, then let yourself heal and then live your life and don’t miss out on the fun times with your family. Then, when your children are grown and face obstacles in their lives, like those young men in The Army of Helaman, they will remember that they, too, were taught by their mothers.

May this be a joyous day for all the Mothers here today, and everywhere. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen