Born of Goodly Parents, part 1: Pullman

FAITH—“…Seek learning, even by study and also by faith” 

I was “born of goodly parents,”

 third of three children born within two and a half years.  

My older sister was just over 28 months old, and my older brother was nearly 18 months when I was born. 

Eventually, when my two younger brothers were born--five years later, then eight and a half years later, I became the middle of five children.    

My father's parents came to go to the 1962  Seattle World's fair somewhere between April and October 1962--my mom thinks early summer.  We all went to the fair. The kids that weren’t old enough to go, we left with a babysitter while we went and took the older ones. About this time, they left their daughter Rosemary with us.

My mom remembers shortly following my birth, that she suffered severe emotional challenges.  

She remembers that my father, Glendon, also was discouraged about the project he was working on, his doctoral thesis.  Gathering it and writing it seemed to be unending and insurmountable.

 Dad got pneumonia.  Mom remembers that he wanted to die. But somehow, they both overcame their challenges.  I love the story Mom tells freely--that as the two came together at the end of the day, Mom remembers that Dad would ask, “Would you like me to wash the dishes or bathe the children and help get them ready for bed?  Mom would choose the dishes and Dad would bathe us and rub our hair and send us running naked all over the house before bed.  

Laurene:  What I know:  the women in her church congregation watched us while they combined efforts to teach her to drive.  She traveled regularly from Pullman some distance to visit a counselor who helped her to change some of her expectations and affirmations: 

“I don’t have to be perfect today.”

“I am beautiful."

"I belong."

"I have limits.”

A friend shared a therapeutic exercise of drawing out and coloring in poster board challenges from life.  I did this.  The first picture was a stick figure of being youngest of three under age three.  My siblings were creative, imaginative, talented, and directive.  Being youngest was no easy chore.  However, the second part to my exercise was to look for the joy that was set before me, for the challenge I bore.  Mine--was being younger sibling of creative, imaginative, talented fellow earthlings.  I was part of a "Three Musketeer" little group.  (These complimentary posts, celebrate the growing up and lives of my older brother and sister--look at the first to find amusing stories.) I learned to love and be loved.  I watched and gathered insight from simply being present. Discovering “the glory of God is intelligence,”  I was surrounded by intelligent life--making early life for me, no short of glorious!  

Laurene: My first memory, I think I was about three years old.  It was dark. I was sitting outside the bathroom door, not feeling well. Why do I remember this?  Perhaps it is so that I may nurture and develop compassion for others that are not physically, emotionally or spiritually well. 

 

Another memory, I am not sure I really remember.  However, the story is retold.  I had a friend named Kelly who would come to play.  I must have been about three or four years old.  My mom remembers that I would invite Kelly into our home at the married student apartments on North Fairway, Pullman, Washington, Washington State University.  I would ask her: “Would you like to watch me do my puzzle?”  

I am learning how appropriate and necessary it is, for each of us to learn to work through our individual puzzles. Decades later, serving as organist to play prelude in the chapel of the Bountiful temple, I met Sister Carol Jean Coombs, wife of the counselor in our Pullman bishopric, who had encouraged our mom to go to a counselor and learn to drive.  (Sister Coombs was the organist scheduled directly after me.)  Sister Coombs remembered me!  Her words, “You were CUTE!”

I may have been precocious.  It is a fact that I love to learn.  Learning quickens me!  My experience is, however, only accompanied with meekness, humility, and deference, will it enhance relationships.  I am patiently working to master respect, compassion for others, those that learn at different paces than my own. 

A memory I have at barely age four, December of 1965, somehow, we visited a Santa Claus, who was being broadcast over radio.  Santa asked me what I would like for Christmas.  I told him that I would like sticks and stones for Christmas (we had been told if we were not good that Santa would bring sticks and stones.)  I decided that if I received sticks and stones that my brother could build me a doll house.

 

I am learning some lessons from this story.  Number one:  the creative thinking of a child.  Things that were supposed to be awful and unpleasant might be reconstructed to become happy, wanted things.  I still believe this is possible.  With the sticks and stones of who I was, I trust and know that He can and will build the best version of me. 

 

First, I must learn to listen to, love, and follow Jesus Christ.

I must listen to His words. 

I must deal justly, love mercy.

And learn to talk humbly with my God (walk on the meekness of His love)  

The hoped for promise--I will discover peace.

Another thing I learned from this story, is that some things that we expect and hope for can materialize as different than desired.  Santa did bring sticks and stones that Christmas.  However, the sticks were very small, and they were mixed with soil in a paper sack, apparently extracted from the back yard—not like I was hoping for—sterile and clean, like Legos or Lincoln Logs, prepared and ready for me to make into a doll house!

 

Santa also brought a doll that cried.  And cried nicely--at least until it became immersed in the bath tub.  Then the crying ceased. 

 

A memory that my brother David shared with me about Christmas, and I think it was possibly this Christmas is that one of his friends lost his parents.  I think there was a fire in his house.  He went to live with extended family.  We learned that the gifts of Christmas are much less about material things, instead they center in cherished relationships. (One Christmas I detailed Christmas memories.  Look here for more.)

 

More memories:

I loved to race.  Everything was a race.  Life was a race.  And my older brother, David, liked to race, too.  He gave me a run for my money.  I remember racing home every day after kindergarten.

One afternoon, as my brother was getting ready to cross the street. Watching my big brother David begin to walk across the street as a car raced around the corner and screeched to miss him, frightened us all. In a few short seconds, we learned that the race was not worth losing a life.  We valued one another more than we cared about who was the winner!

The autumn before, there is a lengthy description of on one of the Woolensac reel to reel audio tapes when I am about three years old describing the big decision that they made to cross a continent, leave all their families and culture they knew to try a new adventure on the East Coast.  Dad finished the beleaguered thesis, passed his exams and accepted a position to teach soil science with the University of New Hampshire.  This was very far from home.  But with faith and a prayer, anything is possible!  

Brighter and Brighter until (a BINGO Perfect Day!)

                 BINGO!  

Our family history day was surprisingly successful!

A wonder and marvel!               I actually was pinching myself that my husband would go along with it, as it was snowing, and we had had the children over two other times in the last few days.  But as he did not say no, I just took the reins and rode as far and as long as seemed workable for the attention span of four children 10 and under.  

Monday, I sat down and talked with our 10-year-old grandson, W, sharing some special things I found for a friend about the Aaronic Priesthood.  After this experience, I invited W. to look at the neighborhood Family History Bingo   It caught his attention, and he helped me fill out one line of the  Bingo during our President Day Monday.  

With that positive momentum, he asked if we could plan a walk around the temple.  Because there was another vacation day (I forgot to ask my husband about this...to let him know that the two youngest children requested more time with Grandpa and Grandma on Tuesday) I consider it a small miracle that all systems said "go"--I put my skirt on, helped shovel the walk--to meet the steady snow that fell  most of the day.  

I washed dishes. Exercised...then we drove to Grammy's to trade cars, finding children standing in their driveway, best dress, journals, scriptures AND umbrellas in hand--ready, get set, go! 

Our electronic music didn't work, so we sang Primary songs all the way up.   

B (age 5) claims to not know Primary songs.  W recently declared it has been a LONG time since he has read from the Book of Mormon.  I take it personally.  I am not responsible for anyone else's choices, but I am responsible to invite. On the way, I asked them to journal why they hope to go inside the temple someday.  They sang.  This is good. I learned later that it is hard to sing and write.  Music won! 

My husband thought Bountiful was a better choice to help them be familiar with their own temple. But the snowy Bountiful hill is steep, and we were out of pinto beans.  Our favorite grain store is in Ogden with pinto beans and brown lentils (Starkey staples) so Ogden became our destination.  

My husband was sure the temple gates would be closed.  But they were open! No one was really there, except grounds crews cleaning the sidewalks and parking lots.  

Each of the children sauntered umbrellas in hand past the Native American mosaic artwork that frames the tabernacle doors and found the waterfalls in front of the temple.  A question from Come Follow Me was to look for something that reminds us how to be like Jesus .  K suggested "I spy with my little eye."  We found a tree that reaches and points up. 

A bubbling front waterfall came next.  Living water. 

K, going on seven, could not keep himself from touching the water.  "It is not bad!" 

Grandpa asked, "Would you take a bath in it?" 

I did not hear K's answer to that, but cannot imagine it being "Yes!"

We walked to the walls. 

 Everyone touched. I got pictures. No pictures of me.  I don't care about that.  

Someone noticed Angel Moroni on top of the temple.  He is gold.  And facing east.  I noticed the leaf inlay on the steeple that points up.  Golden plates.  Golden leaves.   

K. wanted to walk the high wall, which made me a little nervous.  "Can you jump down?"

That actually made me more nervous for him to jump five feet with an umbrella.  But, adept and confident, he held his umbrella and dropped, rather that jump.  (Grandma, WHY do you worry??!!)

   

Then we walked to the west entrance, to see winter pansies where the still water flows.  

W, a few blocks before the temple, noticed that the gas meter was nearly empty.  I wonder who taught a 10-year-old to notice that gas gauge?  He must be the eldest child.  Again, I asked my husband if he cared where we stopped for gas, and though he usually has very strong opinions about such, it was not his car.  He did not counter my choice to go to Costco, where I let myself out and ran like crazy.  I went to the produce aisle, found pineapple (no large carrots)  but toilet paper (no limit! I gathered two!) oil, salsa, chia seeds (no quinoa--what I had told him I would get) ...peanuts, peanut butter...all packed together as quick and fast as a fifteen-minute dash with four children in the car with a tired, hungry grandpa would give me.  Two hundred thirty dollars. The lady at the door took three minutes counting every item.

 

Later, I told Kristen I bought Costco.  I think Val agreed.  We could hardly fit everything into the trunk.  I had to shut it twice.  But it was remarkable, and done!  And the only thing missed was carrots and quinoa.   

We followed the prophet and made time for the temple.  And God gave us an empty gas tank so we could fill the pantry.  All in two hours (one hour driving time.)  A marvelous work--and a wonder!

 On the way home, we passed the train station, near where Val's father's father fixed train engines.

Lunch was sandwiches and 2 Nephi 2 (verses 2 through 6?)  Each of the children gets a verse and picks a favorite word which we talk about. 

After cleaning up...it was game time...but I am crabby grandma, and I just read in this week’s Come Follow Me that the Lord doesn't let his words go void (he follows through, see Isaiah 55:10, 11...very good verses!) 

 

Our ping pong and table hockey game time was dependent upon each child showing me what they had written in their journals (nothing.)  So, each was invited to sit down and write.  

Nearly seven year old K. wrote "worminside" 

 (meaning "warm inside")

 

Eight year old S. wrote:  "At the temple I walked all around it.  I thought that the markings on the door were pretty.  I was cold from the snow, but I was warm inside" 

B. is five and knows how to write her name.  Val helped her write what she wanted to say:

 "2/12/21  I felt happy at the Ogden temple today." to accompany her illustration of a tree.

W (10), from the day before:

“When I went to the temple, I walked on the sidewalk around it, and I felt pretty normal.  I was doing it for cub scouts, so that was kind of fun.  I’m pretty sure I got a belt loop for it.  I want to go because it is pretty, and big.  I also want to know more about it, and more about what it is like to be in the House of God. 

“I want to be married in the temple because then I will never be separated from my family and I’ll be with them for eternity.  “Hello:  (Day after this was written)  2/16/21  We walked around the temple today and we got to touch its walls.  I saw two fountains that were pretty cool.  I felt happy while I was there."

Of course, after this came table hockey, then competitive ping pong where W won 24 to 22!

(Yay Grandpa--for finding, fixing a free table!) 

We learned in a phone call to Great Grandma about Great Great Grandpa Alva, moustache below, who worked at the train station.  He had a garden where he grafted different types of apples onto one tree, grew grapes, and had his boys help him dig a well one bucketful at a time.

  All this in a few-minute phone call with a great grandma who once helped us dig out our own window well when she was over age 70.  Hoorah for digging!  Hoorah, for deep roots.  

One more tidbit.  I have looked at a picture on my wall for many years.  My mother, Shirley, is pictured, under two years of age, shortly after her own mother died.  Here, she is found sitting with her brother and sister on what I want to say is her father's model T Ford.  

The picture of Shirley (far left) looks much like many of her grandchildren (and great) when they were little--compare this photograph to B, age five, above.  Do you see a similarity?  The thing I never noticed is what they are eating.  Can you see it?  Do you ever wonder why you enjoy the foods you do?  Is it a family tradition to like toast?  

S. and W. both tried their hands for twenty minutes of indexing Michigan birth records--watching our grade school friends type is inspiring!  We also got to learn from Great Grandma S. about her mother sitting on a pig (ask someone about a picture!) Someone dared her.  What is a dare?  What if I dare you to find out one thing about someone you know in your family?  I dare you to listen to a few activities that will keep your children awake, and consider checking out Roots Tech 2021 which is free online this coming Thursday, Friday and Saturday.  

We are hoping for you to have love within the walls of your sacred spaces...walls of your home, family, and connections. Happy Valentine month! Happy Birthday, Amber!