Jason, Inc.
Just a little historical note - written many years ago.
Jason, Inc.
It was the summer of my discontent. I had completed the first year of college at Montana State University. I had done okay, but now I had to find a job so that I could pay for another year of school. There were not a lot of jobs in Bozeman, Montana so discouragement was setting in. Then, out of the blue, circumstances changed.
It happened on a rather distinctive Saturday. I had spent a large portion of the day up Highlite Canyon with friends. We all came down and I made ‘significant connection” with my favorite friend, Margaret Baker. In fact, as I left her home in the afternoon, we hugged for quite a while. I hoped it was the start of something serious. That seemed tenuous at best when I got home.
Mike, my older brother had called. His wife’s father had a job for me if I wanted it. He was from Ft. Collins, Colorado, but the job was going to be in Gillette, Wyoming. Where was that? We got out a map and looked it up. Oh, there it is, on the desolate Eastern portion of an otherwise desolate state. But what was the job? Something to do with the local power company. It was field work of some sort. They were paying more than minimum wage. They would pay for my housing and a per dieum for food. In essence, everything that I would earn would be waiting for me when I got home. It sounded good.
But I had just made a “significant connections” with the one girl I wanted to connect with. What to do? What to do? In the end I took the job. Mom and Dad drove me to Gillette early Monday morning. At the local power station I met the supervisor and the rest of the crew. For the rest of the summer I was a Jason boy, with all of the good and bad that went with that. I did grow up. I saw sides of life that were not really pleasant. I matured in some ways that I wish I could have done without. I didn’t get into any real trouble, but that opportunity was there a couple of times. I did have all of the money that I earned waiting for me when I got home. I did see some areas of America I probably never wouldn’t have seen.
I worked for Jason, Inc. for two summers - six months altogether. I worked in Gillette, Wyoming - Steamboat Springs, Colorado - River City, North Dakota - Wheatland, Wyoming - Rapid City, South Dakota - Thermopolis, Wyoming - Wall, South Dakota.
One of the features of every Jason, Inc. assignment was the Jason Truck. They were just pickups, but this was a time frame in the early 1970’s when pickup technology was just starting to evolve. Jason Trucks were medium sized Chevy with an automatic transmission and a radio. They were not 4 wheel drive. That technology was expensive and not as dependable as today. There were many situations where 4 wheel drive would have saved us harm or embarrassment. We also could have used a winch on the front of the truck, to pull us out of situations. We didn’t have those either. So many times we tried to take the Jason Truck where the Jason Truck was not meant to go. The result was usually a walk to the nearest farm house to see if we could get help pulling said Jason Truck out of the river, the swamp or the muddy field.
It would take many pages to tell all about my days as a Jason boy.
Oh, and in the end, Jason, Inc. did help in a strange way with my “significant connection” to the girl of my dreams.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Reading List
July 19, 2009
The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy
I was a little bit disappointed. I really like the latest made for TV movie. So I read the book. (I had the book because it was one of the selections for Mar’s book club.) Now I am not a fan of the Romantic era of writing and this is from that era. It just goes on and on with how smart she is and how much she misunderstands and how sorry and how repentant and – wait – do you see a pattern here. It all says “she”. This isn’t a story about the Scarlet Pimpernel – it is a story about his wife.
Now to tell the truth, Orczy does a good job condemning the French Revolution. But the story just wasn’t what I had expected. It was way to close to a modern romance. For me, it had the same flaws as (dare I say it) Twilight.
The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy
I was a little bit disappointed. I really like the latest made for TV movie. So I read the book. (I had the book because it was one of the selections for Mar’s book club.) Now I am not a fan of the Romantic era of writing and this is from that era. It just goes on and on with how smart she is and how much she misunderstands and how sorry and how repentant and – wait – do you see a pattern here. It all says “she”. This isn’t a story about the Scarlet Pimpernel – it is a story about his wife.
Now to tell the truth, Orczy does a good job condemning the French Revolution. But the story just wasn’t what I had expected. It was way to close to a modern romance. For me, it had the same flaws as (dare I say it) Twilight.
Movie Review
July 18, 2009
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
For those who say “It is not like the book” or “They left out a lot”, well, I would just say - “Soorrrryy”. I really liked it. It was a refreshing change from the last two which were so dark and Harry was so angry. This one is more light hearted, without losing the weight of the story. Yes, there are things that are not there – but it is the price you pay for trying to convert a written story to cinema – especially a long written story. And visually, it is really good – a real well made story.
I give it a 3.5 – not too bad for a sequel – to a sequel – to a sequel – to a sequel – to a sequel.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Service - Church Farm
July 18, 2009
Mar and I did service today. We went and worked at our church farm. So here is the story of this service.
They want us to be there at 6:00 AM, because they want us to be done by 10:00, otherwise it just gets too hot. Now the church farm that we went to is north of Greeley – so it was an hour drive – figure it out – that means we leave at 5:00 – which means we got up at – yowzer – 4:30 – that is O-Dark-Thirty in case you have never been up at that time.
We went to the church and picked up two other service minded brothers – and 3 of their young boys – and we drove to the Eaton Farm. I had never been to the Eaton Farm before – but thanks to modern technology – Google Earth – and some fair instructions, we drove right there.
Now the task at hand was weeding the crop of pinto beans. You go out in the field and you choose a row and walk along that row and when you see a weed, you reach down and pull it out. Some come out easy, some come out hard and some just fight back. Sometimes you can walk a long way without seeing a weed. Sometimes, you spend a long time in a very short distance. You would think it wouldn’t be that hard – but it is bending and standing and bending and standing. And at the Eaton Farm, your row – you only have to do one row – but your row is ½ mile long. That is a lot of bending and standing – and by 10:00 it starts to get hot.
We came home tired. But we also came home happy and satisfied that we had done our share. In the 19 years we have been in Longmont, I have gone to weed beans every year but one – and that year I was a leader at scout camp. That makes me feel good about myself.
Mar and I did service today. We went and worked at our church farm. So here is the story of this service.
They want us to be there at 6:00 AM, because they want us to be done by 10:00, otherwise it just gets too hot. Now the church farm that we went to is north of Greeley – so it was an hour drive – figure it out – that means we leave at 5:00 – which means we got up at – yowzer – 4:30 – that is O-Dark-Thirty in case you have never been up at that time.
We went to the church and picked up two other service minded brothers – and 3 of their young boys – and we drove to the Eaton Farm. I had never been to the Eaton Farm before – but thanks to modern technology – Google Earth – and some fair instructions, we drove right there.
Now the task at hand was weeding the crop of pinto beans. You go out in the field and you choose a row and walk along that row and when you see a weed, you reach down and pull it out. Some come out easy, some come out hard and some just fight back. Sometimes you can walk a long way without seeing a weed. Sometimes, you spend a long time in a very short distance. You would think it wouldn’t be that hard – but it is bending and standing and bending and standing. And at the Eaton Farm, your row – you only have to do one row – but your row is ½ mile long. That is a lot of bending and standing – and by 10:00 it starts to get hot.
We came home tired. But we also came home happy and satisfied that we had done our share. In the 19 years we have been in Longmont, I have gone to weed beans every year but one – and that year I was a leader at scout camp. That makes me feel good about myself.
Travels - Mar in Utah
July 9 – 16, 2009
Mar did the Utah trip again. There were a couple of good reasons to go.
First, she took Lar’s mother back home to Odgen. She stayed with us for 2 ½ weeks. We thoroughly enjoyed her stay.
Second, she went to a family reunion of her father’s family in Idaho. She went with Brenda. She said it was okay, but she was a little uncomfortable. She hasn’t been for “a number of years”, and nobody even recognized her. Still, it was good for her to see and be seen again.
Third, she went to bring her mother back home with us. We like having company so we keep filling up the empty bedrooms. Her mom couldn’t come back until Thursday, so that sort of extended her stay in Utah.
She almost extended her stay another way. She did her laundry while there and she had the car keys in her pocket. Not a big deal – oh, but it is an electronic car key. She went right out and tried it. Nope, it didn’t work. But she let it dry out and her brother, Roger, brought her a new battery – then they held their breath – and it worked.
Hmm - - maybe I should get a spare.
Mar did the Utah trip again. There were a couple of good reasons to go.
First, she took Lar’s mother back home to Odgen. She stayed with us for 2 ½ weeks. We thoroughly enjoyed her stay.
Second, she went to a family reunion of her father’s family in Idaho. She went with Brenda. She said it was okay, but she was a little uncomfortable. She hasn’t been for “a number of years”, and nobody even recognized her. Still, it was good for her to see and be seen again.
Third, she went to bring her mother back home with us. We like having company so we keep filling up the empty bedrooms. Her mom couldn’t come back until Thursday, so that sort of extended her stay in Utah.
She almost extended her stay another way. She did her laundry while there and she had the car keys in her pocket. Not a big deal – oh, but it is an electronic car key. She went right out and tried it. Nope, it didn’t work. But she let it dry out and her brother, Roger, brought her a new battery – then they held their breath – and it worked.
Hmm - - maybe I should get a spare.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Writings
May Day
Written many years ago - this is a part of my history - ancient history - enjoy.
So this may be a foreign concept to many modern youth. That is the concept of May Day. In the past, on the first of May, there was a holiday to celebrate the passing of Winter and the onset of warmer Spring and Summer days. There was dancing and feasts and May poles. By the time I came around, that was pretty well passed, but there was a tradition of May baskets. The thought was that you had a basket, you filled it with goodies and flowers, then you left it on somebody’s doorstep and knocked and ran.
It was May 1st, 1962. I was ten years old. A very mature age and able to handle myself in many worldly ways. My younger brother, Terry, was eight. We were united that day by the curious traditions of May Day. We had both made May baskets in school, and came home ready to fill them and deliver them full of treats to the Parchells who lived next door. The problems was we didn’t have any treats.
When we arrived at home, Mom was out running errands of some sort. We overcame that disappointment with a worthy plan. We would make our own treats for our May baskets. Delays were unacceptable because after May 1st, the use of May baskets was just not allowed. Our goodies of choice would be homemade cookies. All of the ingredients were there so we started to work. Step one, preheat the over to 375 degrees. So the gas oven was turned on. We then carefully measured, stirred and dispensed a cookie sheet full of what we knew would be the best May Day cookies ever baked. Then our first set back became apparent.
The old gas stove was cantankerous. Many times the pilot light would go out, meaning it wouldn’t self light. Such was the case that beautiful Spring day. I knew exactly what to do. In fact I had done it many times for Mom. All you had to do was strike a match and hold it to the pilot hole in the oven and it would light. It worked every time. It worked this time also, just all too well.
That oven had been turned on for at least 20 minutes, all that time filling the oven and the back hood of the oven with gas. Imagine what the lighted match did. There was a loud swoosh as a sheet of flame shot straight out across the top of the oven. Now imagine where the faces of a ten year old and an eight year old are relative to the top of that oven. The flame went right in our faces. It surely was divine intervention because both of our hands were up in front of our faces when the sheet of flame hit. Our faces were spared. Our eyebrows and our bangs however were gone in sizzles of little smoking, smelly balls of ash. And the backs of our hands were burnt to a flaming hot red.
Instinct took over. I just grabbed Terry and plunged his and my hands into icy water in a measuring bowl in the sink. We were crying and whimpering when Mom came home just a few minutes later. Finally an adult presence. She sized up the situation pretty fast and did the proper thing first. She turned off the oven which had finally pre-heated to 375 degrees. Then she took care of her two hurt and lucky little boys.
We didn’t get a trip to the doctor. Mom called and he said that there was noting much he could do about it. The backs of my hands each developed one inch long blisters running down each of the knuckles. One of those blisters was torn off when I tried to slide during a baseball practice. That produced the only permanent result of the stove explosion as it became infected and left a scar that is still apparent on the back of my hand. Our hair and eyebrows finally grew back so we didn‘t look as much like Speilburg aliens.
Later that evening, Mom baked the cookies. We didn’t take them anywhere in our May baskets, but they were pretty good cookies.
Written many years ago - this is a part of my history - ancient history - enjoy.
So this may be a foreign concept to many modern youth. That is the concept of May Day. In the past, on the first of May, there was a holiday to celebrate the passing of Winter and the onset of warmer Spring and Summer days. There was dancing and feasts and May poles. By the time I came around, that was pretty well passed, but there was a tradition of May baskets. The thought was that you had a basket, you filled it with goodies and flowers, then you left it on somebody’s doorstep and knocked and ran.
It was May 1st, 1962. I was ten years old. A very mature age and able to handle myself in many worldly ways. My younger brother, Terry, was eight. We were united that day by the curious traditions of May Day. We had both made May baskets in school, and came home ready to fill them and deliver them full of treats to the Parchells who lived next door. The problems was we didn’t have any treats.
When we arrived at home, Mom was out running errands of some sort. We overcame that disappointment with a worthy plan. We would make our own treats for our May baskets. Delays were unacceptable because after May 1st, the use of May baskets was just not allowed. Our goodies of choice would be homemade cookies. All of the ingredients were there so we started to work. Step one, preheat the over to 375 degrees. So the gas oven was turned on. We then carefully measured, stirred and dispensed a cookie sheet full of what we knew would be the best May Day cookies ever baked. Then our first set back became apparent.
The old gas stove was cantankerous. Many times the pilot light would go out, meaning it wouldn’t self light. Such was the case that beautiful Spring day. I knew exactly what to do. In fact I had done it many times for Mom. All you had to do was strike a match and hold it to the pilot hole in the oven and it would light. It worked every time. It worked this time also, just all too well.
That oven had been turned on for at least 20 minutes, all that time filling the oven and the back hood of the oven with gas. Imagine what the lighted match did. There was a loud swoosh as a sheet of flame shot straight out across the top of the oven. Now imagine where the faces of a ten year old and an eight year old are relative to the top of that oven. The flame went right in our faces. It surely was divine intervention because both of our hands were up in front of our faces when the sheet of flame hit. Our faces were spared. Our eyebrows and our bangs however were gone in sizzles of little smoking, smelly balls of ash. And the backs of our hands were burnt to a flaming hot red.
Instinct took over. I just grabbed Terry and plunged his and my hands into icy water in a measuring bowl in the sink. We were crying and whimpering when Mom came home just a few minutes later. Finally an adult presence. She sized up the situation pretty fast and did the proper thing first. She turned off the oven which had finally pre-heated to 375 degrees. Then she took care of her two hurt and lucky little boys.
We didn’t get a trip to the doctor. Mom called and he said that there was noting much he could do about it. The backs of my hands each developed one inch long blisters running down each of the knuckles. One of those blisters was torn off when I tried to slide during a baseball practice. That produced the only permanent result of the stove explosion as it became infected and left a scar that is still apparent on the back of my hand. Our hair and eyebrows finally grew back so we didn‘t look as much like Speilburg aliens.
Later that evening, Mom baked the cookies. We didn’t take them anywhere in our May baskets, but they were pretty good cookies.
Reading List
July 12, 2009
Gods and Generals by Jeff Shaara
It seems I will never get back to my must read list - this one is not on the list. People keep telling me you have to read this, you have to read this. Gods and Generals came at me from two fronts - Mar who read a "companion" book, The Killer Angels for book club - and Melanie who had this one in her collection and agreed that I had to read it. Neither of them were wrong. It is truly great reading.
The story of the story. The Killer Angels was written by Michael Shaara portraying the bloodiest three days in American history - Gettysburg. His son, Jeff, wrote Gods and Angels after his death. It depicts the start of the Civil War and the progression up to Gettysburg. The difference in the books is that they are historical novels. Accurate as far as history is concerned, but portraying Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson and the other generals as real people with feelings and faith.
I recommend it.
Of course now I have a dilemma. I have read Angels and Demons and should read The DaVinci Code to follow up. I have read Gods and Generals and should read The Killer Angels (and probably The Last Full Measure) to follow up. And I have the 501 list. So much to read, so little time. Where were all of these good books over the last 20 years of my travels?
Reading List 2009
7/12 - Gods and Generalls - Jeff Shaara
6/5 - Angels and Demons - Dan Brown
5/29 - A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith
5/11 - Crashing Through - Robert Kurson
5/5 - A Train to Potevka - Mike Ramsdell
4/27 - King Solomon's Mines - H. Rider Haggard *
4/21 - Best Loved Humor of the LDS People
4/6 - Eaters of the Dead - Michael Crichton
4/4 - Mexico - James A Michener
3/6 - The House of Mirth - Edith Wharton *
2/16 - The Wonderful Wizard of OZ - L. Frank Baum *
2/11 - The Last Lecture - Randy Pausch
2/9 - Peter Pan - J.M. Barrie *
2/1 - Next - Michael Crichton
Gods and Generals by Jeff Shaara
It seems I will never get back to my must read list - this one is not on the list. People keep telling me you have to read this, you have to read this. Gods and Generals came at me from two fronts - Mar who read a "companion" book, The Killer Angels for book club - and Melanie who had this one in her collection and agreed that I had to read it. Neither of them were wrong. It is truly great reading.
The story of the story. The Killer Angels was written by Michael Shaara portraying the bloodiest three days in American history - Gettysburg. His son, Jeff, wrote Gods and Angels after his death. It depicts the start of the Civil War and the progression up to Gettysburg. The difference in the books is that they are historical novels. Accurate as far as history is concerned, but portraying Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson and the other generals as real people with feelings and faith.
I recommend it.
Of course now I have a dilemma. I have read Angels and Demons and should read The DaVinci Code to follow up. I have read Gods and Generals and should read The Killer Angels (and probably The Last Full Measure) to follow up. And I have the 501 list. So much to read, so little time. Where were all of these good books over the last 20 years of my travels?
Reading List 2009
7/12 - Gods and Generalls - Jeff Shaara
6/5 - Angels and Demons - Dan Brown
5/29 - A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith
5/11 - Crashing Through - Robert Kurson
5/5 - A Train to Potevka - Mike Ramsdell
4/27 - King Solomon's Mines - H. Rider Haggard *
4/21 - Best Loved Humor of the LDS People
4/6 - Eaters of the Dead - Michael Crichton
4/4 - Mexico - James A Michener
3/6 - The House of Mirth - Edith Wharton *
2/16 - The Wonderful Wizard of OZ - L. Frank Baum *
2/11 - The Last Lecture - Randy Pausch
2/9 - Peter Pan - J.M. Barrie *
2/1 - Next - Michael Crichton
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Fourth of July - including the Third
So - after reading the previous blog - about getting home at 2:30 in the morning - I got up at 6:00 - drove to Boulder and picked up Brea and Ben and then drove down to Erica's for their ward's pancake breakfast. Now it wasn't the pancake breakfast that called our name. They all had the first annual 5K run. A free 5K run. Who could pass that up. I did it in 28:20. Ben beat me this time. It was a killer course. Erica and Rich live in a neighborhood of hills. It was the hills that killed me, not the no sleep.
On the real 4th of July, our ward had it's pancake breakfast - along with another wand. We held it at the church's Lyons park with the pavilion. It was very nice. There were a lot of people. My mom enjoyed it. I played a little horseshoes.
Then I went and helped a new family unload their moving truck in Niwot.
In the evening we went to the fireworks show in Longmont. The past couple of years they have been a little bit disappointing. Not this year. They were grand. I liked them. Mar liked them. My mom thought they were grand. (You know, if Mom hadn't of been here, Mar and I probably would have just stayed home.)
On the real 4th of July, our ward had it's pancake breakfast - along with another wand. We held it at the church's Lyons park with the pavilion. It was very nice. There were a lot of people. My mom enjoyed it. I played a little horseshoes.
Then I went and helped a new family unload their moving truck in Niwot.
In the evening we went to the fireworks show in Longmont. The past couple of years they have been a little bit disappointing. Not this year. They were grand. I liked them. Mar liked them. My mom thought they were grand. (You know, if Mom hadn't of been here, Mar and I probably would have just stayed home.)
Lar in San Jose
June 29 – July 2, 2009
Not too exciting a trip. Just a class. And just 3 people in the class. And they were somewhat difficult – which meant they stayed later than normal, so I really didn’t get to do anything extra. Oh, well, it is just San Jose and not a lot of extra to do.
The most excitement was flying home. Because Friday was a company holiday, I wanted to get home on Thursday night. I booked a flight that was supposed to get me back to Denver by 11:30. But the plane was delayed in Denver because of thunder storms, so we left San Jose 40 minutes late. The long and short of it is that I got home at 2:30 AM. No that makes for a long night.
Not too exciting a trip. Just a class. And just 3 people in the class. And they were somewhat difficult – which meant they stayed later than normal, so I really didn’t get to do anything extra. Oh, well, it is just San Jose and not a lot of extra to do.
The most excitement was flying home. Because Friday was a company holiday, I wanted to get home on Thursday night. I booked a flight that was supposed to get me back to Denver by 11:30. But the plane was delayed in Denver because of thunder storms, so we left San Jose 40 minutes late. The long and short of it is that I got home at 2:30 AM. No that makes for a long night.
Wyatt's Blessing
June 28, 2009
We all gathered at Mat and Andi’s for the blessing of little Wyatt Wilson Stones. It was just nice for all f us to get together for this special occasion. It was real nice that his great grandma was there. I think he liked her best.
We all gathered at Mat and Andi’s for the blessing of little Wyatt Wilson Stones. It was just nice for all f us to get together for this special occasion. It was real nice that his great grandma was there. I think he liked her best.
Mar's Sacrament Meeting Talk
June 28, 2009
Martin’s Cove is really a beautiful place. But then, in 1856, it was a place of refuge. The members of the Martin handcart company were reduced to dreadfully low rations. Adults got 4 ounces of flour per day. They had no meat. More than two weeks before, they had crossed the Platte River and their clothes had frozen to their bodies. The temperature was in single digits and some of them never recovered. There was very little wood to burn for warmth, and an early October storm had dropped 18 inches of snow. The pioneers could hear the wolves devour their recently buried dear ones. In this desperate, weakened condition, the rescue parties from Salt Lake Valley found them and helped them move to the cover of the cove above the Sweetwater River where there was some shelter from the relentless Wyoming wind and there was wood for fires.
President Hinkley said about the cove, “Terrible was the suffering of those who came here to Martin’s Cove to find some protection from the heavy storms of that early winter. With their people hungry, cold and dying from sheer exhaustion, they came up into this cove for shelter, and then they died. Some 56 people. We stand here with bared heads and grateful hearts for their sacrifices, and the sacrifices of all who were with them along this tragic trail.
President Kamigaki wrote to the youth this year, “We urge you to be mindful that President Gordon B. Hinkley has designated this area “hallowed ground made sacred by the sacrifices of those who have gone before us”. . . As you ponder the history and the past of this sacred area, take time to consider your present standing with your Lord and how you will go forward into your future.
One of the primary reasons for doing the Trek is to give the youth a chance to ponder – to maybe feel the spirit – to feel gratitude – and to build their faith and testimony.
D & C 122: 7 says
“Know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience and shall be for thy good.”
Again from President Hinkley, “It is up to us that those who perished will not have died in vain. Our Father in Heaven allowed the handcart pioneers to suffer, that we today might more clearly see our responsibility to our grand children and our great-grand children when they are sitting here 150 years from now, what will they say when OUR STORIES are read. A life that will inspire future generations is our responsibility.”
The pioneers had tests they had to pass as they pressed on towards Zion. Their faith and perseverance helped them pass their tests. They succeeded against great odds. Today we have our own tests to pass. They are different.
The mountains we cross each day may not be visible, but they will require all of our strength and all of our faith to make it over them. Step by step, we write our own stories of faith and courage. It will take the very best that is in us. It will take all of our heart, all of our mind, and all of our strength. But we will come to know that the journey towards Zion is the most important journey we will ever make.
I tried to warn her to stay away from the Bishop - but she got caught. He asked her to report on the Trek in Sacrament Meeting. This is her talk - or a close facsimile to what she said:
Report on Trek
I really enjoyed going on Trek – and one of the reasons was because of the kids. You parents can be very proud of them all. They were eager and happy and cooperative. When it was time to get up, they got up. When it was time to go to bed, they went to bed. When they got to help with meals – they didn’t grumble. And most of them were even excited about square dancing. It made it very pleasant for me as a leader.
Because of the abundance of rain that we have had this year, the area was beautiful. It was green and verdant – as verdant as it can be in central Wyoming. It wasn’t too hot. The sky was large and blue. And the wind was just a gentle breeze.
One of the things we did was hear stories and trials of the Martin Handcart Company.
But for some pioneer youngsters, the Mormon trails experience was one of pain and sorrow. Louisa Gittens Glegg, who was fourteen, described the journey as a long miserable time. For many it was a first and agonizing encounter with the reality of death. Children stood in stunned silence as graves were dug for their parents, siblings, or a beloved playmate. Laura Swenson Fowers , age eight watched her father die after a wagon accident. Her mother died seven days later during childbirth leaving Laura with four younger sisters to go to Salt Lake valley as orphans. Clarence Marrow, age five, watched as his baby brother, Alonso, died shortly after birth. Another brother, Alfred, and sister, Amanda, died shortly thereafter from fever and chills and the three were buried under an oak tree.
One of my favorite Latter Day Saint hymns is Come, Come Ye Saints. It calls to mind the life of a pioneer. It was written by William Clayton after the expulsion from Nauvoo. He received the good news that his wife had just given birth to a healthy baby boy, and was moved to write the song – because all was well.
Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
I really enjoyed going on Trek – and one of the reasons was because of the kids. You parents can be very proud of them all. They were eager and happy and cooperative. When it was time to get up, they got up. When it was time to go to bed, they went to bed. When they got to help with meals – they didn’t grumble. And most of them were even excited about square dancing. It made it very pleasant for me as a leader.
Because of the abundance of rain that we have had this year, the area was beautiful. It was green and verdant – as verdant as it can be in central Wyoming. It wasn’t too hot. The sky was large and blue. And the wind was just a gentle breeze.
One of the things we did was hear stories and trials of the Martin Handcart Company.
But for some pioneer youngsters, the Mormon trails experience was one of pain and sorrow. Louisa Gittens Glegg, who was fourteen, described the journey as a long miserable time. For many it was a first and agonizing encounter with the reality of death. Children stood in stunned silence as graves were dug for their parents, siblings, or a beloved playmate. Laura Swenson Fowers , age eight watched her father die after a wagon accident. Her mother died seven days later during childbirth leaving Laura with four younger sisters to go to Salt Lake valley as orphans. Clarence Marrow, age five, watched as his baby brother, Alonso, died shortly after birth. Another brother, Alfred, and sister, Amanda, died shortly thereafter from fever and chills and the three were buried under an oak tree.
One of my favorite Latter Day Saint hymns is Come, Come Ye Saints. It calls to mind the life of a pioneer. It was written by William Clayton after the expulsion from Nauvoo. He received the good news that his wife had just given birth to a healthy baby boy, and was moved to write the song – because all was well.
Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
Brother Bruce Hafen reflected on some of the meaning of these words:
Perhaps this means, come, ye Saints, all ye that are heavy laden, come to the Savior of Mankind; keep your covenants with him, and he will carry not only the burden of your sins—he will also ease the burdens of your hardest toil and labor “that even you cannot feel them upon your backs.” And though the journey of mortality can sometimes be very hard, grace shall be as your day—meaning, in Nephi’s words, “it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do”
And should we die before our journey’s through
Happy day, All is well.
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
Perhaps this means, come, ye Saints, all ye that are heavy laden, come to the Savior of Mankind; keep your covenants with him, and he will carry not only the burden of your sins—he will also ease the burdens of your hardest toil and labor “that even you cannot feel them upon your backs.” And though the journey of mortality can sometimes be very hard, grace shall be as your day—meaning, in Nephi’s words, “it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do”
And should we die before our journey’s through
Happy day, All is well.
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell!
The pioneers knew, and had faith that if they didn’t finish their trek, if they died on the way, they would be blessed to be exalted to live with their Heavenly Father. This was a comfort in their trials and sorrows
But if our lives are spared again
To see the Saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell—
All is well! All is well!
The pioneers endured so much physical hardship to make it to Zion. We all have heard stories of that hardship and know of their sorrow. But they were faithful and endured. James Hurran of the Willie handcart company said, “With all our trials, our weary traveling, burying our dear ones, piling our clothing and bedding by the wayside and setting fire to them, we have never once felt to murmur or complain or regret the steps we have taken.
Yes, we have all heard some of these stories.
But why do we now do – The Trek. Why do we spend months preparing, and making clothes and organizing food and transportation and programs and then drive forever to the center of Wyoming with 150 teenagers? Why is that so important?
One reason is to give the youth an opportunity just to experience something different – and maybe a little bit hard. On Friday they did walk 10 miles – pulling handcarts for much of it – handcarts loaded with much of their own personal gear. They got to sleep on the ground – with no pads – and no pillows. They got to give up their modern dress and don the costumes of the pioneers. They were in a different world – and some of them might have learned something about themselves. I heard one young woman say, “I now know I can do hard things.” What a wonderful realization because life is not always easy.
President Hinkley gave us another answer to the question – why do we do this?
“It is good to look to the past to gain an appreciation for the present and a perspective for the future.”
In other words, the youth need to experience something of what their forefathers have experienced. It gives them an understanding of the blessing they have today. I’ll bet many of them really enjoyed a warm shower when they got home – and were more thankful for that little blessing.
It also gives them an opportunity to think about the faith of those who went before. Perhaps this can inspire them to greater faith themselves.
But why do we now do – The Trek. Why do we spend months preparing, and making clothes and organizing food and transportation and programs and then drive forever to the center of Wyoming with 150 teenagers? Why is that so important?
One reason is to give the youth an opportunity just to experience something different – and maybe a little bit hard. On Friday they did walk 10 miles – pulling handcarts for much of it – handcarts loaded with much of their own personal gear. They got to sleep on the ground – with no pads – and no pillows. They got to give up their modern dress and don the costumes of the pioneers. They were in a different world – and some of them might have learned something about themselves. I heard one young woman say, “I now know I can do hard things.” What a wonderful realization because life is not always easy.
President Hinkley gave us another answer to the question – why do we do this?
“It is good to look to the past to gain an appreciation for the present and a perspective for the future.”
In other words, the youth need to experience something of what their forefathers have experienced. It gives them an understanding of the blessing they have today. I’ll bet many of them really enjoyed a warm shower when they got home – and were more thankful for that little blessing.
It also gives them an opportunity to think about the faith of those who went before. Perhaps this can inspire them to greater faith themselves.
Martin’s Cove is really a beautiful place. But then, in 1856, it was a place of refuge. The members of the Martin handcart company were reduced to dreadfully low rations. Adults got 4 ounces of flour per day. They had no meat. More than two weeks before, they had crossed the Platte River and their clothes had frozen to their bodies. The temperature was in single digits and some of them never recovered. There was very little wood to burn for warmth, and an early October storm had dropped 18 inches of snow. The pioneers could hear the wolves devour their recently buried dear ones. In this desperate, weakened condition, the rescue parties from Salt Lake Valley found them and helped them move to the cover of the cove above the Sweetwater River where there was some shelter from the relentless Wyoming wind and there was wood for fires.
President Hinkley said about the cove, “Terrible was the suffering of those who came here to Martin’s Cove to find some protection from the heavy storms of that early winter. With their people hungry, cold and dying from sheer exhaustion, they came up into this cove for shelter, and then they died. Some 56 people. We stand here with bared heads and grateful hearts for their sacrifices, and the sacrifices of all who were with them along this tragic trail.
President Kamigaki wrote to the youth this year, “We urge you to be mindful that President Gordon B. Hinkley has designated this area “hallowed ground made sacred by the sacrifices of those who have gone before us”. . . As you ponder the history and the past of this sacred area, take time to consider your present standing with your Lord and how you will go forward into your future.
One of the primary reasons for doing the Trek is to give the youth a chance to ponder – to maybe feel the spirit – to feel gratitude – and to build their faith and testimony.
D & C 122: 7 says
“Know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience and shall be for thy good.”
Again from President Hinkley, “It is up to us that those who perished will not have died in vain. Our Father in Heaven allowed the handcart pioneers to suffer, that we today might more clearly see our responsibility to our grand children and our great-grand children when they are sitting here 150 years from now, what will they say when OUR STORIES are read. A life that will inspire future generations is our responsibility.”
The pioneers had tests they had to pass as they pressed on towards Zion. Their faith and perseverance helped them pass their tests. They succeeded against great odds. Today we have our own tests to pass. They are different.
The mountains we cross each day may not be visible, but they will require all of our strength and all of our faith to make it over them. Step by step, we write our own stories of faith and courage. It will take the very best that is in us. It will take all of our heart, all of our mind, and all of our strength. But we will come to know that the journey towards Zion is the most important journey we will ever make.
Travels with Lar and Mar
Gallivanting in Utah
June 20 - 23
We finished the Trek – central Wyoming – heck we were already halfway to Utah. So we didn’t go home. Instead, on Saturday afternoon we pushed on to Logan. It was a just five more hours, and we did get to stop in Little America for an ice cream cone, and we got in one of Wyoming’s infamous horizontal thunderstorms.
We spent Saturday and Sunday in Hyde Park – Cache Valley – at Mar’s mother’s house. The most momentous thing about that was that we never told her we were coming. We went to church on Sunday and then took a drive up Smithfield Canyon. On Monday morning, we dug out a tree stump and relocated a front-yard-living snake.
We then spent Monday and Tuesday in Ogden with my mother and sisters, Melanie. Monday was a day of honey-dos, mostly trimming trees, tearing down vines and cleaning gutters. In the evening we went to dinner with them and Emy, another sister, and Rick. Tuesday we worked with Melanie on her kitchen cabinet project. Then Wednesday we came home, but my mom came with us. She will spend a couple of weeks until Mar comes back for a family reunion.
June 20 - 23
We finished the Trek – central Wyoming – heck we were already halfway to Utah. So we didn’t go home. Instead, on Saturday afternoon we pushed on to Logan. It was a just five more hours, and we did get to stop in Little America for an ice cream cone, and we got in one of Wyoming’s infamous horizontal thunderstorms.
We spent Saturday and Sunday in Hyde Park – Cache Valley – at Mar’s mother’s house. The most momentous thing about that was that we never told her we were coming. We went to church on Sunday and then took a drive up Smithfield Canyon. On Monday morning, we dug out a tree stump and relocated a front-yard-living snake.
We then spent Monday and Tuesday in Ogden with my mother and sisters, Melanie. Monday was a day of honey-dos, mostly trimming trees, tearing down vines and cleaning gutters. In the evening we went to dinner with them and Emy, another sister, and Rick. Tuesday we worked with Melanie on her kitchen cabinet project. Then Wednesday we came home, but my mom came with us. She will spend a couple of weeks until Mar comes back for a family reunion.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The Trek - Viewpoint of Grandma and Grandpa
June 18-20, 2009
First an explanation of what the trek is. It is a church encampment for the youth ages 14 – 18. It is planned and carried out by our stake. This year 144 youth went on the trek – 17 from our ward. The youth try to get into the feel of what the Mormon pioneers went through. Of course this is hard – they only have three days and the pioneers spent months. Still, some of the rules help. The youth are to dress in period clothing – long dresses and bonnets for the girls. No blue jeans or t-shirts for the boys – and no shorts – only long pants. For their three days, they could only take what would fit in a five-gallon bucket. They could take no electronic entertainment – not even cell phones. They slept in sleeping bags – but without pads or pillows.
And they walked.
The trek was held at Martins Cove in central Wyoming – about 50 miles north of Rawlins. This is a historical site for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It is the site where a handcart company of pioneers waited for rescue in the early winter of 1856. They spent 5 days in “the cove” and in that time 56 of them died of exhaustion, exposure and hunger. These pioneers pulled handcarts across the plains to get to Salt Lake City. They left late and got trapped by an early winter blizzard. If the Saints in Salt Lake City had not learned of their plight and sent rescue teams to aid them, they all would have died.
It is much different doing the trek in the Spring.
The youth walked 3 miles to their camp ground on the first day. They were divided into “families” and each family had a handcart that they pulled, loaded with their five-gallon buckets and sleeping bags. Some pushed and some pulled and some just walked beside. Each family had adult supervision – “ma and pa”. The first evening they also had a square dance – that wasn’t even cancelled by a little rain.
The second day they did the martin’s Cove trek. It was about ten miles – still pulling the
handcart for most of it. It included some activities. There was a devotional at “Dan Jones Cove”, a smaller cove in the mountains. They walked up into Martin’s Cove itself where the refugees from the storm waited for the much needed rescue party – a place hallowed by their suffering and steadfast patience. There was “the crossing of the Sweetwater” where they got to cross the river as the pioneers did. This year the Sweetwater River was high because it was spring and they had a lot of rain. They didn’t pull their handcarts through the river, but they did get to cross – on foot.
They had the “girl’s pull”, where the girls had to pull the handcarts up a fairly steep and sandy hill, with no help from the boys. In fact, the boys had to watch and not say a word.
On the last day, they packed up and walked and pulled the three miles back from the campground.
Trek is a great experience for the youth. It builds faith and testimony. It builds courage to face their own trials. It builds the youth. And it is even fun.
Now this is how Mar and I got to go. Our ward had three families and three sets of “mas and
pas.” Still, they wanted an alternate set, so we volunteered. We didn’t figure that there would be any worries – the three mas and pas were committed. Until one of the pas got a new job and another broke his ankle in five places. Suddenly, with only 13 weeks left, we were not alternates, we were the real thing. But as in all things in life, things changed. The pa with the broken leg really wanted to go, so he started rehabbing in a serious manner. Still, that left us going with the third family. Then some of the kids dropped out. Our ward had enough for just two families, and we had two committed mas and pas. So, to reward us for our efforts, they still invited us to go as grandma and grandpa.
Hey, how could we ask for more? We got to have all the fun with none of the responsibility. We didn’t have to walk if we didn’t want to. We didn’t have to discipline. We just got to experience.
The experience was great.
Mar did about 5 miles of the walk, but she spent more of her time as a designated driver for other adults who couldn’t do the whole walk. She also was a big help with the logistic committee, particularly in helping to feed 0ver 200 people and take care of the kitchen. She was also a great help with our own kids.
I did the walk – every step of the way. As I walked I talked with our kids and our mas and pas. I
talked with others in the stake. I took pictures. I really enjoyed the whole time. I talked with one of the Stake presidency and we figured out I was the 4th oldest who did the entire walk. There was one ma and pa who were 63, and the member of the presidency I was talking to was three months older than me.
We were truly blessed on this trek. The kids behaved ideally. Not one issue to complain of, except Eric through an apple and hit me in the head – an accident and no harm was done. In fact, it was pretty funny. When we told them to go to bed – to bed they went. When we asked them to get up – up they got. When it was their turn to help with the food – help they did. On the last day, one of the boys asked me if Mar was going to drive back to the pick up spot. He said his legs really hurt from the previous days walk. Of course he wanted me to tell him that she could drive him. What I said was, “Oh, I’m sorry. Once you start walking it will loosen up and not hurt.” He didn’t complain - he just walked back with the rest of us. Yep, the kids were all great.
And the weather was great. Four years ago it was 100+ degrees with a driving wind that destroyed tents. For us this year, it rained some on the first night, then the second day, when we did the long trek, it was about 75 degrees with a mild cooling breeze. Nights were cool, but not cold. The biggest threat we had from the weather was to ever present danger of sunburn. Yep, the weather was great.
The program was terrific. I especially liked the Friday evening devotional, sitting in an amphitheater, listening to an enthralling speaker talk about the stories of the pioneers and watching deer and antelope frolic on the far side of the Sweetwater River. It was pastoral and truly delightful.
But the best thing about this trek was the spirit. I felt the faith and testimony of the pioneers like I have never done before. I realized more fully what they risked and suffered for their devotion. And I came to appreciate the
greatness of those who also risked and suffered to rescue them. I am glad I went.
First an explanation of what the trek is. It is a church encampment for the youth ages 14 – 18. It is planned and carried out by our stake. This year 144 youth went on the trek – 17 from our ward. The youth try to get into the feel of what the Mormon pioneers went through. Of course this is hard – they only have three days and the pioneers spent months. Still, some of the rules help. The youth are to dress in period clothing – long dresses and bonnets for the girls. No blue jeans or t-shirts for the boys – and no shorts – only long pants. For their three days, they could only take what would fit in a five-gallon bucket. They could take no electronic entertainment – not even cell phones. They slept in sleeping bags – but without pads or pillows.And they walked.
The trek was held at Martins Cove in central Wyoming – about 50 miles north of Rawlins. This is a historical site for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It is the site where a handcart company of pioneers waited for rescue in the early winter of 1856. They spent 5 days in “the cove” and in that time 56 of them died of exhaustion, exposure and hunger. These pioneers pulled handcarts across the plains to get to Salt Lake City. They left late and got trapped by an early winter blizzard. If the Saints in Salt Lake City had not learned of their plight and sent rescue teams to aid them, they all would have died.
It is much different doing the trek in the Spring.The youth walked 3 miles to their camp ground on the first day. They were divided into “families” and each family had a handcart that they pulled, loaded with their five-gallon buckets and sleeping bags. Some pushed and some pulled and some just walked beside. Each family had adult supervision – “ma and pa”. The first evening they also had a square dance – that wasn’t even cancelled by a little rain.
The second day they did the martin’s Cove trek. It was about ten miles – still pulling the
handcart for most of it. It included some activities. There was a devotional at “Dan Jones Cove”, a smaller cove in the mountains. They walked up into Martin’s Cove itself where the refugees from the storm waited for the much needed rescue party – a place hallowed by their suffering and steadfast patience. There was “the crossing of the Sweetwater” where they got to cross the river as the pioneers did. This year the Sweetwater River was high because it was spring and they had a lot of rain. They didn’t pull their handcarts through the river, but they did get to cross – on foot.
They had the “girl’s pull”, where the girls had to pull the handcarts up a fairly steep and sandy hill, with no help from the boys. In fact, the boys had to watch and not say a word.On the last day, they packed up and walked and pulled the three miles back from the campground.
Trek is a great experience for the youth. It builds faith and testimony. It builds courage to face their own trials. It builds the youth. And it is even fun.
Now this is how Mar and I got to go. Our ward had three families and three sets of “mas and
pas.” Still, they wanted an alternate set, so we volunteered. We didn’t figure that there would be any worries – the three mas and pas were committed. Until one of the pas got a new job and another broke his ankle in five places. Suddenly, with only 13 weeks left, we were not alternates, we were the real thing. But as in all things in life, things changed. The pa with the broken leg really wanted to go, so he started rehabbing in a serious manner. Still, that left us going with the third family. Then some of the kids dropped out. Our ward had enough for just two families, and we had two committed mas and pas. So, to reward us for our efforts, they still invited us to go as grandma and grandpa.
Hey, how could we ask for more? We got to have all the fun with none of the responsibility. We didn’t have to walk if we didn’t want to. We didn’t have to discipline. We just got to experience.The experience was great.
Mar did about 5 miles of the walk, but she spent more of her time as a designated driver for other adults who couldn’t do the whole walk. She also was a big help with the logistic committee, particularly in helping to feed 0ver 200 people and take care of the kitchen. She was also a great help with our own kids.
I did the walk – every step of the way. As I walked I talked with our kids and our mas and pas. I
talked with others in the stake. I took pictures. I really enjoyed the whole time. I talked with one of the Stake presidency and we figured out I was the 4th oldest who did the entire walk. There was one ma and pa who were 63, and the member of the presidency I was talking to was three months older than me.We were truly blessed on this trek. The kids behaved ideally. Not one issue to complain of, except Eric through an apple and hit me in the head – an accident and no harm was done. In fact, it was pretty funny. When we told them to go to bed – to bed they went. When we asked them to get up – up they got. When it was their turn to help with the food – help they did. On the last day, one of the boys asked me if Mar was going to drive back to the pick up spot. He said his legs really hurt from the previous days walk. Of course he wanted me to tell him that she could drive him. What I said was, “Oh, I’m sorry. Once you start walking it will loosen up and not hurt.” He didn’t complain - he just walked back with the rest of us. Yep, the kids were all great.
And the weather was great. Four years ago it was 100+ degrees with a driving wind that destroyed tents. For us this year, it rained some on the first night, then the second day, when we did the long trek, it was about 75 degrees with a mild cooling breeze. Nights were cool, but not cold. The biggest threat we had from the weather was to ever present danger of sunburn. Yep, the weather was great.The program was terrific. I especially liked the Friday evening devotional, sitting in an amphitheater, listening to an enthralling speaker talk about the stories of the pioneers and watching deer and antelope frolic on the far side of the Sweetwater River. It was pastoral and truly delightful.
But the best thing about this trek was the spirit. I felt the faith and testimony of the pioneers like I have never done before. I realized more fully what they risked and suffered for their devotion. And I came to appreciate the
greatness of those who also risked and suffered to rescue them. I am glad I went. And I’m glad I became closer to some of the youth. As we were leaving, mar and I going on to Utah, I walked up to a group of our boys to say goodbye. What they said was , “Bye Gramps.” It made me feel good.
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