Pioneer Day

Photo by Holgen Leue

Great-great Grandpa John Bagley was only eighteen when he left his family in eastern Canada. He joined with the Mormon pioneers to prepare for a trek across the plains from Illinois to Utah.

John was extremely trusted and took the responsibility of caring for a widow and her children in the wagon train. He drove the lead team of nine yoke of oxen into the valley in 1856 when he was just twenty years old. Later, Brigham Young requested that John accompany him in many dangerous situations as a body guard. At the age of 58 he wrote his life story in his own hand, recalling his adventures with Indians, wild animals, cholera, and starvation.

John's Journal

But there is one particular feat John is remembered for.

John had worked in a lumber mill with his father from the time he was a little boy. Four days after his arrival in Salt Lake Valley he started work on what would become six lumber mills in Big Cottonwood Canyon. He helped build roads, haul logs and build silver mines in Alta, and became known quickly for his ability and agility.

Photo: Lake Mary, Brighton, UT Project 365:185/366 Flickr

On July 23, 1857, nine months after John's arrival, 2,600 people (with 500 vehicles and 1,500 animals) gathered at the bottom of Big Cottonwood Canyon for a giant anniversary party. The first pioneers had settled the valley ten years before, and there was a celebration planned ten miles up the canyon in Brighton. The group followed Brigham Young and a long line of dignitaries in carriages and wagons. A marching company of 50 kids between 10 and 12 years old led the way up the canyon, along with a brass band that furnished music for the celebration.

At sunset a bugle summoned the campers to a central elevated spot where Brigham Young addressed them. On the morning of July 24, the flag was unfurled from a giant pine tree, standing on a peak. Prayer was offered, then singing, and afterward cannons roared. The Big Cottonwood Lumber Company, for which John worked, had constructed the road as far as Lake Alice, near Silver Lake, expressly for this occasion. Today there is a small chapel at the top of Big Cottonwood Canyon, in Brighton, close to where the celebration took place.

Photo by Blozan's Tree Climb

This is how John recalled the day of Celebration:

Brigham Young's tent was near a towering pine tree 100 feet high. That tree was selected as a flag pole for the unfurling of the Stars and Stripes. I had been reared in the timber lands of eastern New Brunswick, America, and was experienced in handling timber and logging, so I was selected by President Young to trim the tree for a flagpole.


Carrying my axe, I climbed to the top of the tree, trimmed the branches and cut the tip so there was a smooth top. I unfurled the flag, and much to the amazement of those below, I stood on my head on the top of the tree!

As I descended, I trimmed the other branches, and when I was among the trees that were not so lofty, I seized the branch of another tree and ape-like, swung from the flag pole and disappeared. The people below thought I had perished and were quite concerned until I finally appeared having made my way through the branches.

John Bagley

He sounds like a great, great-great grandfather to me!

A Grand Kid Day

Lucy, Jessi and Chloë make their Grand Entrance

Nothing is more fun than a day with grandkids! (I've had quite a few lately, and I know my stuff.) I took this trio to the Grand America in downtown Salt Lake City for the Grand Tour.

We started with brunch.

Pancakes with strawberries and cream cheese,

crepes with bananas and nutella ...

Hot chocolate with fluffy mounds of whipped cream ... "Can we go to La Bonne Vie after this?" they asked. The French bakery outside the Garden Cafe was filled with pastel macaroons and chocolate truffles and had caught their imaginations on the way in. "You don't have dessert after breakfast," I explained.

"But this is brunch!"

"Prepare for the bathroom of your life," Chloë told the others.

"We get our own little rooms, with chandeliers."

(It's a grand thing when toilets make such a splash.)

"Look at these old fashioned phones!" Jess exclaimed.

"Are they from the '90s?"

Cords, buttons, and even a dial—

"Where's the caller ID?"

The Grand Finale was a visit to Jou Jou,

a toy boutique in the hotel for grand kids.

"This is the ultimate doll house," Lucy said. It was standing next to a giant robot that told knock-knock jokes in a monotone robot voice, after it greeted us with:

"I-can't-give-a-high-five-but-I-can-say-hi-five-times ...

hi-hi-hi-hi-hi."

A grand piano was on the floor in front of organ pipes filled with brightly colored bubble gums. When the girls stepped on the keys the music started and so did the dance moves.

Making memories in grand proportions

There's nobody quite like grandkids. They love completely with no expectation except receiving love back. It's a forgiving, tolerant, accepting kind of love. They aren't trying to improve us, or change us. We're good enough. Who else loves us that way? They aren't embarrassed by us, and actually expect us to be a little eccentric, which gives us confidence to just be ourselves. All in all, it's just grand!

"And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children,

and the heart of the children to their fathers . . ."

—Malachi 4:6

Mountain Oma

Two nights of this—

Was totally worth three days of this:

Arizona Cousins greeting Colorado Cousins,

Little cousins meeting big cousins.

Boy buddies,

Girl buddies,

Best buddies.

Weaving,

Braiding,

Knitting thirty-one hearts together.

A couple of nights on the ground was totally worth it!

Music to My Ears

Me, Bryant and Carol in Salzburg, 1969.

If your Junior High had a hootenanny you're one of my peeps. I fell in love with Rich McClure, Keith Roark, Tom Carter, Bob Evans—any guy with a guitar. I sang "Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore" at church to a strummed accompaniment. Back in the day "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" to the tune of a guitar was the expected closing song at a missionary farewell! Guitar was a love language for boomers.

Jess, Lucy, Chloë

Dee and I had our own baby boom,

and into the third generation they're still speaking our language!

Uncle Pete and his backup.

The Halverson Heroes just got back from a week in the woods, and the hills were alive with the sound. Under one tree or another there was a jam session going the whole time, and I loved it! "Starting on A, one, two three ..."

"Havin' fun at the campout, singin' a song,

Havin' fun with Oma all day long ..."

The little kids wrote lyrics and taught each other chords,

"Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da ..."

and the big kids remembered when they used to sing

"You, my brown-eyed girl."

"I was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car ..."

While Dee was singing a duet with Lucy at the campfire,

"Are you Eliza?"

"Guess again, Oma."

... one of our little twin granddaughters asked me,

"Has Opa ma-wied Tayloe Swift yet? I know he loves her."

Of course he loves her. She plays a guitar.

In my heaven angels won't play harps. They'll have guitars.

And it will be a hoot! (enanny.)

(If you want to know what I'm singing about today, click here.)

Oma Days

Oma Day

There are Pioneer Days, Strawberry Days and Onion Days up and down our state, but my favorite summer days are Oma Days. The kids are out of school, travelin-grands come from far away, and I get to hang out with my favorite people. For six weeks this summer grandkids are at the top of my to-do list. They pair off and treat me to the pleasure of their company for an Oma Day.

Chelsea and Ashley (both 7)

I took these guys to Walmart where we bought fishing poles,

and headed out to my neighborhood lake.

Chelsea at Oquirrh Lake

It's 65 acres, almost four miles around, with playgrounds and picnic spots scattered here and there. Sailboats, canoes and row boats are available to residents and there are 13 miles of walking trails. We just needed a few yards.

Ashley prepared for giant fish.

Since it's stocked with trout, bluegill and bass, I was certain we'd each catch our two fish limit. The girls were so worried they'd be pulled into the water by giant fish, they insisted on wearing life jackets. Unfortunately, I forgot about hooks and worms. The fishing lines floated aimlessly on top of the water until we got bored.

Ashley and Chelsea on Soda Row

Then we dashed across the street for a run through the splash pad ...

and gelato cones.

Scott, Pete, Brad and Dan

The guys went golfing one morning,

and biking the next.

The ladies had an outing at City Creek.

Gabi, Sam, Brad

Jordanelle was the scene for a boating adventure.

I watched in awe as the littlest kids rode the waves,

Chloe, Emmie, Jessi

... and the experts surfed the wake.

Eliza and Jill

The twinkies requested their favorite cupcake store.

Then we went to the Oma Clubhouse for dress-ups and a tea party.

Gabi watching fireworks

After a grand display of fireworks and a month of fiery weather, we woke up to rain and cool temperatures. Perfect for a weekend in the woods! The car is loaded, and the Oma tent pack-ups are ready to go; s'mores are waiting! I'll report next week!

Call the Doctor!

They did it!

They upheld the healthcare act! I'm thrilled! I'm beyond thrilled. As a victim of pre-existing conditions that kept our family from buying insurance for 25 years (for us and our seven kids) I know the extreme anxiety of living without the option of healthcare. I know the stress of a $77,000 heart attack with no coverage, making decisions about cancer treatment based on our savings account, digging deep for $800 a month to buy medications. Not having access to affordable healthcare causes panic attacks!

Dee's long-awaited medicare birthday gave us much needed relief last October. But knowing many families in similar straits, I'm happy they won't face bankruptcy fears whenever they notice a mole that looks suspicious. (It's not the pre-cancerous mole that causes fear, it's the tag of pre-existing that scares the daylights out of an uninsured parent.)

Thank you to Teddy Kennedy. I wish he was alive to see this day! This is as important a supreme court decision as granting Civil Rights in the 60's. Universal healthcare is constitutional!

Click here for posts that explain why I'm so passionate:

Obamacare

We're going to celebrate by standing in the fresh air without worrying about an asthma attack!

Congratulations, America!

4th of July Flag Cake

This isn't your regular red velvet cake recipe.

This is the original red velvet cake recipe.

I've been making this flag cake for fifty years and it's worth the effort,

I promise!

Click here for the recipe and easy directions!

How to make a 4th of July flag cake.

Introduce Yourself

Piano Man at SLC Farmer's Market

I almost missed the guy with the portable piano. Tucked behind the cookie stand (Butterscotch Bacon was the flavor of the week) there was a one-man band, transported by bicycle. The thought of it made my upper thighs quiver. When I tossed my coins in his tin pan I could see this was his passion—he certainly wasn't doing it for the money. Interesting.

What's his story, I wondered. I could almost hear his mom: "Turn off the TV—you need to practice." And his dad: "Put your bike away before you practice." And him: "I'm using my bike—I already practiced."

Obviously he became a pianist and a biker. Maybe he majored in music; maybe he rode his bike to play in a bar. I wonder. How did he tell his grandma he wanted to strip down her upright piano so it wouldn't weigh so much? Where does he stash the piano between gigs? Does he stay in the bike lane? How does he make a left-hand turn? Scary!

Think back to last Saturday and imagine a snippet of your life. Were you baking butterscotch bacon cookies? Stripping an old piece of furniture? Pulling something (or someone) on your bike? What's your story? Write down what you were doing and see what it says about you. You might find it interesting!

~~~~~

This post is an example of a mini-memoir. Using the roving piano man as a vehicle, I share eleven details about myself. Before you read further, go back and see if you can find them. Did you figure out that:

• I live in Salt Lake City.
• I'm fascinated by unique people.
• I make up stories in my head.
• I'm not a biker.
• I give money to buskers.
• I like cookies.
• I took piano lessons.
• I'm a parent.
• I worry about hitting bikers while I'm driving.
• I think journals are important.
• I think writing helps us discover ourselves.

Details woven into the story introduce a character in a realistic, natural way. It's a trick of fiction that works well in memoir, too.

Pondering Joy

An incredible experience began for me in February 2012 when I was called as Relief Society president. I thought I knew what to expect because I'd been a counselor in RS five times, but I was clueless. It's like becoming a mother—there's much more work than I ever imagined, much more time, but much more joy. I'm exhausted with joy.

I can't count the whispers of inspiration that fill my mind as I think about the women I'm responsible for. Early in the morning, when my normal self would be sound asleep, ideas wake me up. They don't drift through my thoughts like vanishing dreams, they come with details, gently but firmly, with enough time to write them down. Solutions come for problems I won't know about until later, impressions of who I should contact settle in my heart, and a sense of peace restores me: it's lovely.

I'm brimming over. In my old estrogen-filled days, tears relieved the pressure of abundant emotion, but I don't cry as easily as I used to. Instead I gush, brag and rhapsodize about my ward, my neighborhood, my presidency, my bishop. I am totally overwhelmed with love for the people around me. I want to always feel this way. A primary song keeps running through my head:

I feel my Savior's love in all the world around me,

His spirit whispers peace in everything I see.

He knows I will follow Him,

Give all my life to Him,

I feel my Savior's love, the love he freely gives me.

I can't begin to express my gratitude for this blessed time in my life. It is pure joy.

The Best Dad

Heroes, 1983

Forty three years ago I chose the father of my children.

Of course I didn't know then what I know now. I chose him because he was cute and funny and he thought I was cute and funny, too. He listened to my rambles and understood what I meant. We dreamed the same dreams and saw the world through the same lens. As far as parenting skills, I assumed he'd contribute curly hair and brown eyes . . . hey, enough for me!

I know a lot of moms who undervalue dads. We women have a superiority complex that lets us think that we do it all, all alone, all the time—and we're pretty good at moaning about it. While there are some awesome single parents (moms and dads) who have that challenge, I'm very blessed to be only half of a team. Here are some elements my other half supplied, one for each year he's been a dad. (I could have listed zillions more.)

Dee did this with our kids:

1. Made bird feeders during Morning Friends (5-7 a.m. activity time for human early-birds.)
   
2. Constructed a cardboard model of a cathedral.
3. Taught coin collecting, stamp collecting, anything collecting.
   
4. Made real oatmeal for breakfast every day, whether they liked it or not.
   
5. Found out what they wanted to do, and encouraged them to do it.
   
6. Surrounded them with books; always went to parent teacher conferences.
   
7. Made grilled cheese for lunch every Sunday.
8. Held Wunsch Conzerts (classical music turned up full blast Sunday mornings.)
9. Became a builder so they could have a house.
10. Tossed jelly bean prizes for Scripture Chases on Family Night.
11. Featured them in hundreds of photos.
12. Sold his photo equipment to buy them stuff.
13. Taught them it was fun to clean the garage, water the lawn, and shovel the snow.
    
14. Took them to a potato chip factory,
15. A cheese factory,
    
16. The train yards,
    
17. A train museum, gun museum, army museum, every museum.
18. Picked them up from school when they were sick.
19. Paid for broken arms, collar bones, surgeries and fillings.
    
20. Attended their dance recitals, choir concerts, plays, games and meets.
21. Sold his collections to pay for dance, piano, gymnastics, violin and clarinet lessons.
22. Didn't burden them with adult worries.
    
23. Gave them each a year abroad.
    
24. Read all the historical markers on the side of the road.
    
25. Emptied the dishwasher, ironed his shirts, did the laundry and let them see.
26. Drove a no-frills car so they could have one.
    
27. Dried their shoes, polished their shoes, trimmed their toenails, treated their athlete's foot.
28. Took them to the fish hatchery so they'd be sure to catch something.
    
29. With asthmatic lungs, ran the field as a soccer coach,
30. And little league coach; took them tobogganing, golfing, and shooting.
31. Lived when he could have died a few times.
    
32. Was the school's first room-father,
33. The troop's first den-father,
34. Went to scout camps, winter camps,
    
35. Girls camps.
    
36. Let them rebuild a pioneer cabin.
37. Let them have a dog.
38. Came home every night instead of going out with the guys.
39. Loved them in spite of themselves sometimes.
40. Wanted them.
41. Made them the center of his life.
42. Loved their mother.

I am in awe of good fathers. It's interesting: I wanted to find a good quote to use in this post yet most of the ones I found were condescending or sarcastic. Isn't that sad? Many women who have been disappointed by their own fathers or husbands assign the blame to men in general and seem to spread the word via men-bashing. This sets a low standard for boys, who then don't have much to live up to. Decent dads, who take responsibility, work to support a family physically, spiritually and emotionally, and who set an example of dependability, contribute goodness to the world.

I chose wisely.

Dee and Marta at the zoo
1985