GRANDPARENTS DAY...

HAPPY GRANDPARENTS DAY!

I did not even know until last Friday that there was such a thing.  Yup!  Seems that some woman by the name of Marian McQuade and a man by the name of Jacob Reingold, in different parts of the country, had similar ideas shortly after the ascendancy of the "hippie generation."  They lobbied nearly two decades for a special day to honor elderly people whom they saw as valuable assets for all of us.

President Jimmy Carter signed into law on September 6, 1979, that the first Sunday after Labor Day would be set aside each year to honor grandparents in the hope that society could learn from "grandparents whose values transcend passing fads and pressures, and who possess the wisdom of distilled pain and joy" and because "our senior generation also provides our society a link to our national heritage and traditions."

The following is excerpted from a recent article by Lily Rothman who was commenting on an article in TIME Magazine August 3, 1970, titled "Growing Old in America/The Unwanted Generation". 

"The culture of the 1960's was largely driven by younger people, and older generations, who were living longer than ever, were increasingly seen as out of touch and of dimished value.  And that hippie culture of the 60's felt as though the aged were an alien race to which the young would never belong. (HAHA!)

"Sociologists and anthropologists at the time declared that there was a distinct discrimination against the old that could be termed 'ageism'--not wanting to have all  these ugly old people around.  These professionals believed that in 25-30 years, ageism would be a problem equal to racism."

So began a counter movement to venerate and celebrate for their invaluable experiences the old and the elderly, those generations who had gone on before--our grandparents.
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It just so happens that I taught the lesson in Relief Society today from the Ezra Taft Benson manual about the elderly.  I asked the young sister who normally teaches on the second Sunday if she would consider trading her lesson for mine on the fourth Sunday. (Teaching For Our Times--for September Linda K. Burton's remarks from April 2015 General Conference)  She agreed to do that.

This address by President Benson was delivered in October 1989 General Conference shortly after President Benson's 90th birthday.  His health was failing at that time, and his remarks were read by President Monson who was his second counselor in the First Presidency.  Although President Benson didn't die for another five years following this address to the Elderly, he suffered from the effects of blood clots on the brain, dementia, strokes, and heart attacks and was rarely seen publicly.

This talk was the opening of October General Conference that year on Saturday September 30, 1989.  I was 44 years old.  On the previous Wednesday I had just delivered my oldest son to the MTC for his mission to Paris.  Two days later on the following Monday morning I was sitting at a desk in Corporate America after having been at home for 20 years.

I can tell you for sure that during President Benson's talk, I was NOT thinking about the elderly--though according to my notes in the November 1989 Ensign I read it on December 11th of that year--and now 26 years later I ARE one!

I was curious as to where a person steps over the line into "old age" or elderly or senior citizen or golden years, so I did what any self-respecting individual in the 21^st Century does now--I GOOGLED it! 

Briefly, this is what I found out:
In most nations, except Africa, the official age for elderly is 65.

·       Now, however, instead of a chronological age, elderly is defined by health condition, outlook, mobility, and involvement.

·       Fifty is the new 70!

·       Some people resent the euphemism of elderly, etc. and just plain want to be called "OLD" and respected for their wisdom and experience.

·       Age is not a number but an attitude.

·       Ninety is old age.

·       A lot of people NEVER make it to old age, so it's nothing to sneeze at.

President Benson opened his remarks by saying that over the years he had addressed the children of the church, the young men and the young women, the single adult brethren and sisters, and the mothers and fathers in Israel. But he had special feelings for the elderly.  He could understand them because he was one of them. He also said he wanted to address the families of the elderly and those who ministered to their needs.

Part of the lesson had to do with habits we need to establish now to make the most of our senior years:  missionary work, attend and work in the temple, financial planning, be active and healthy, etc. 

We also discussed
*some synonyms for honor and respect President Benson talked about:
       --high regard, love and appreciate, concerned about happiness and well-being,  courtesy and thoughtful consideration, understand their point of view, obedience to their righteous desires and wishes, show gratitude

And then President Benson reminded us
*parents and grandparents gave us life itself and sacrificed for us as they nurtured, nursed, provided, were an example

*to be forgiving for mistakes they might have made, they did the best they knew how (we would want our own children to forgive us, too)

When he got to the part that closeness to grandparents and other elderly people.
can be a rich companionship and blessing, this is what I shared with the class:


My mother's father died about age 51 when my mother was 14 years old.  My father's father died around the age of 73 just after the Second World War began.  Obviously, I didn't know either of them.

And my grand mothers were elderly when I was born.  I don't think they ever knew my name really.  I was Maude's youngest or Mel's youngest depending on which family we were around--and they lived in Utah and Idaho and we lived in Wyoming.  Perhaps you didn't know that it was farther for them to travel FROM Utah and Idaho to Wyoming, than it was for us to travel from Wyoming to Utah and Idaho.  Now that defies the law of physics!  So naturally, we weren't around extended family very much. 

My father's mother died from the result of a broken hip when she was in her early 80's when I was in the Second Grade.  She was a scary person both to look at and in her demeanor--she had a hunch back and she had a sharp tongue and was not really a warm person.  My brother in law who was a physician was pretty sure she had undiagnosed osteoporosis hence the gnarled spine and the hip broken during a fall.  As for the abrasiveness and distance,  WHAT A SURPRISE! The older I get, the more I think I am like her.  It’s not just eye color and nose shape that goes through those genes.  My mother said her mother-in-law could be hard, but she was loving and generous and always ready to help in many, many ways including having my mother and her five young girls live with her when my dad was working on the RR in Wyoming during the Depression.  Now I understand Grandma Huggins a little better, but because of some of those details I didn't want to be called GRAAMA.  Besides I also knew what Grandma Nichols looked like.  Uhuh! Not for me.  I am Momma G.

My mother's mother was Mother of the Year for the state of Utah sometime in the mid-50's.  She was a little bit of a thing, just 4' 10" and had the cutest little house with a glass curio sporting little magnetized terrier dogs, one black and one white.  I loved playing with them, and wonder if this early experience fostered the love I have for all things miniature and in a glass case!  She was a novelty because I was almost as big as she was.  But by the time she died when I was in the 6th grade, she had pleurisy and because of the water retention had ballooned into someone that was freakish to look at.  It was really no big deal to me when she died.  She had been in a nursing home for several years by that time and I hadn't seen her for years.

So, NO!  I did not have a closeness to grandparents, etc. When my college roommate Lyn's grandmother died, she was heartbroken.  Based on my own experiences--and totally immature in my ability to perceive a life experience different from my own--I just couldn't see what the big deal was that Lyn's grandma had died.  I've grown up some.  But I am still sometimes surprised when people are so affected by a grandparent's death.

Then I asked the sisters to think of one word  that would tell the rest of us a little about a grandparent, a parent, or a relationship with an elderly person. 

Following that discussion, in which some really great relationships and experiences were shared, I said:

Here's the difference between my experience with grandparents and yours: you got to spend time with your people.  I didn't.  I never got to know them enough to care for or about them. 

     *grandparents who visit, come to dinner, have you over for dinner, for FHE, get together for other special events like baptisms, priesthood advancements, graduations, weddings, temple excursions etc. demonstrate that spending time together and knowing their grandchildren, as best they can, is important
     *these are opportunities for teaching, honoring, loving, respecting, and giving care on both sides.
    *grandparents can give their children perspective and application of gospel principles as well as bring security, peace and strength even when communication is through letters, recordings, now skyping, and exchange of pictures, especially the important times for which the grand parents DON'T get to be there.
     * also make opportunities for your important elderly to give an oral history of their lives (oral histories die out in three generations)

By doing these kinds of things, grandparents can have a profound influence on their grandchildren

We closed the lesson with these two priniciples.
1--Priesthood and RS leaders should prayerfully seek the spirit in helping members meet the needs of the elderly.    
 2--The Lord knows and loves the elderly

In closing, I challenged the sisters to act on what we had discussed today and choose one activity to apply the principles we learned about the elderly.

I told them I choose to go visit my 88 year old sister Bette who could probably give me some interesting background about my family--parents, sisters, and brother--because she was there pretty close to the beginning when my parents were in their 20's, not 40's with grown up children--and ME. And she may be able to share with me other details about my sisters that are vague to me because of my place in the family.  The  End.

This is a long blog.  But knowing about the elderly is an important aspect of our eternal lives:  honoring and respecting those who have gone before us.  There is a lot in their lives that can be a lesson and a source of encouragement during times in our lives when we need a broader vision.  Use your parents and grandparents as a resourse!

 Thought you might enjoy seeing some pictures of my grandparents .

 

My father's parents: John Ephraim Huggins and Lovinia Ann Draper.  This must have been shortly before Grandpa died in 1942.  No date or place on the picture.  If before 1942, then Grandpa would have been in his early 70's and Grandma in her late 60's--my age!

 

My mother's parents' wedding picture.  They were married March 23, 1888, in the Logan Temple.  James George Crane was 22 years old, and his bride Sarah Jane Crane was 16!   


 

 

15 YEARS!

I had no idea when I left home that August morning in 2000--cavalierly waving good bye to Brittany and wishing her well at college--that when I got to Chicago later that day and began training as a Flight Attendant with United Airlines, life was going to totally different over the next 15 years than anything I could have imagined.

The six weeks of training at United's world headquarters in Elk Grove Village, Illinois, was one of the most difficult experiences of my life!  I was a fish out of water.  A late middle-aged woman who had lived a life of strict routines, I was about to embark on a trip that had me rubbing shoulders with people I would never have sought out on my own and visiting places in a capacity which was NOT all fun and games like a vacation.

Only I didn't know that then.  Good thing I had NO clue what was ahead of me or I might have decided the whole proposition was too overwhelming.  Oh sure, I had been adventuresome when I left Rawlins just exactly 32 years before to go to Denver to work at a job I didn't have yet and live in an apartment I didn't know where--and most importantly of all, meet the man who would be my husband for 29 years and the father to my six kids.  This experience going to United was a lot like that one in some obvious ways--a novice striking out into the unknown without a lot of preparation for what could possibly happen but positive it could only be great! 

Good thing I was ignorant on both counts, as each of those life-changing experiences has added the dimensions to my life that would never have been there had I not been naive enough to believe that all would be well in the end.

And once again, it was.  But it took a heck of a lot of effort and a long time to get where I finally felt like I was a viable flight attendant and not someone who was playing the part as an understudy among the professionals on board.

For years I always said every day at United as a flight attendant was a picnic.  And on the bad days it was only a picnic that got rained on.  I could always count on the sun coming out again.

As you know, that is no longer the case.  I have only been going through the motions for the past couple of years until I can get to my "amended" 15 years seniority as a flight attendant--delayed by five months because of the major layoff following 9/11.  That happens on January 6, 2016, just a little over a month after my 70th birthday--milestones both.  So, I am planning to exit the aircraft shortly after that.

For the most part my 15 years at United has been a pretty good flight.  I learned things about myself I didn't know before.  And I learned things about a lot of other things I didn't know before, too.  Some important.  Some not so important.

Originally, I had planned to exit at age 65 right after my 10th anniversary when I knew I would be awarded wings with a diamond.  I wanted that chip!  Then because things were going pretty well and my health was still excellent when I reached "retirement" age, 70 sounded doable.  However, I wasn't anticipating such a huge change when United merged with Continental.   (I think of it as a hostile take-over, not a merge.)  When it turned out to be BIG change, there has been a lot of turbulence and I am weary from trying to keep my balance in a job that changes on a daily basis.  It is really time to go!  Now I  am counting the days from my REAL 15th anniversary this month to my amended seniority next year. Roughly 150 days....

For my 15th anniversary, there was no additional diamond chip for the wings.  The wings aren't even the same as they used to be!  Instead I was directed to an online catalog with "Premiums" for service anniversary awards.  I picked a portable DVD player which arrived last week.  It doesn't have quite the sentimental value my 10th year present was (a blown glass nativity which I love to display along with the rest of my "treasures" at Christmas).  But, I didn't have a portable DVD player, and now I have one which I didn't have to purchase.  I guess it's the thought that counts.

I'll let you know when I permanently fly off into the "Friendly Skies" of the wild blue yonder.  You can be sure it will be with the sound track to Rhapsody in Blue playing in the background!

Life is good after all!

AUGUST 9TH....

I've been thinking a lot about my mother today.  My brother Harold was killed in a rabbit hunting accident on this day in 1948.  I wasn't quite three years old, so the memories I have are more than likely collaged from comments and event- telling from a variety of sources over the years. 

When my dad died in August 1984 while we were living in Berlin, I returned to the United States by myself to attend his funeral.  It was Dale Hamblin's job to drive me from Rawlins to Denver in order to fly back to Germany.  I got "brave" and asked him to tell me what happened that sad day almost 40 years before that.  What he told me gave me a clearer picture of what really happened and a sense of his deep love and concern for my family as he was there with Harold when he was accidentally shot. 

But it is my mother I think about now.  When Jeremy died, I so wished my mother were still alive (she had died three years previously) so I could ask her some of those nagging questions that blanketed my mind for weeks and weeks about HOW life could ever seem normal again.

Looking back, it seemed like maybe it wasn't something my mother wanted to talk about--my brother's death.  She didn't often bring it up.  But, I'll bet she would have given anything for someone to ask her how she managed to live through the loss of a child, a seeming impossibility to anyone who hasn't entered that sad circle of parents who have lost a child to death. 

There was a box of Harold's things under my mother's bed.  Now and then I would see her take out Harold's Sunday suit or some other item and just hold it lovingly in her hands.  I would back quietly out of her room, almost afraid to say anything.  But I now think she would have loved to talk about Harold and the few little articles that remained of his life.

Harold's Lionel train set was there, too.  When my own little boys were at an age sufficient to play with trains, my parents brought it to them.  But, it was old and not sleek like the train sets in the 1970's. I wanted my boys to have new stuff.  So I didn't respect that gesture and left the set in a box down the basement until it finally disappeared, to where I do not know. I have regreted my limited expanse of understanding of that time and now would embrace it as something special.

I have thought of my mother's experience, and I wish I had been more perceptive--but I was a child and the youngest.  Just didn't occur to me to remember my mother on Harold's birthday or recall his life on the anniversary of his death.  (I'm sure Lois did, though, as she was always thoughtful that way and still put flowers on Harold's grave long after my parents died.)I know now those are very important days for the mother of a child who has died.  So, I doubly appreciate when any of you contact me on April 2nd or on the 17th or 18th of July each year.  It makes a bond of family remembrance which is important in keeping our family focused on the "forever" part.

Perhaps most of all I think about my mother probably NOT having a friend to her like Rosalie Hall was to me.  That is not to say Church members, neighbors, even townspeople were not solicitous and caring to the Huggins Family during that painful time of Harold's death and beyond.  But it was the constantcy of Rosalie's friendship and love during those awful, awful days, weeks, and months after Jeremy died that qualify her--on that compassionate dedication alone--for an exalted position in the world to come.  I don't think my mother had anyone intimate to her life like that who would have listened to an aching heart, a grieving soul, and a hunger to just know all would be well--and responded to her, as Rosalie unfailingly did to me, with the loving words:  "I care how you feel."  Rosalie knew there was nothing she could do to change things, but that love--true Christ-like charity--could salve a weeping mother's heart.  And it did.

How I wish that I could have eased my mother's aching heart by just asking about Harold or letting her know I cared that her missing him was bone-deep.  Even years later.  Compassion came for me much beyond  her life on earth.  It will be one of the first things I express to her when I see her again:  "Forgive me for being care-less." 


And she will.

     Harold, Mom, and Georgia, who is sitting in the basket of Harold's bike.  Maybe 1947. No date on the photo. This is in the backyard of our home in Rawlins, Wyoming.

REFLECTIONS...

Only wrote one blog in June.  Kind of lost interest for awhile, but I still have that bug to express myself whether anyone reads the stuff I write or not.

I have noticed that since I quit writing the Newsletter a year and a half ago, my writing skills have atrophied somewhat.  It is more difficult to organize my thoughts and convey my feelings than it used to be.  Another evidence of what you don't practice, you lose.  So, I have recommitted to writing one or two items a month, just to keep my writing skills from getting rusty.

I am in Miami now and my layover is shrinking fast as I have to get up at 2:45 a.m. Eastern time in order to leave for Newark and then on to Rochester tomorrow.  However, I just want to mention a really special trip Louis and took this month to Columbus.

Louis' younger brother Barry, whom I had never met, was diagnosed with brain cancer in February.  Long story short, in trying to get him some help Louis called on the ward in whose boundaries Barry resides in Columbus.  The bishop sent the missionaries over to visit with him, and after being instructed by them Barry asked to be baptized as he was the only one in Louis' family who did not join when Louis did.  

Here is a person who chose a life totally contrary to what we believe and have been taught, but who remembers the plan of salvation as their mother taught it to them long before the missionaries knocked on their door.  Barry recognizes his mistakes.  He freely expresses regret for poor choices.  But he is confident the Lord loves him still, so he is now seeking a place "on the other side".  

This is what the Atonement is all about.  The Lord loves a meek and humble heart, the people who have no pretentions that they are better than they really are.  Those are the genuine people who acknowledge the Savior's role in their eternal life.  Barry knows he can never be anything without that atoning gift.  He believes it can be for him, too.  I was impressed with his testimony and his sincerity.

We took him with us to the Indianapolis Temple Open House on Saturday the 18th where we met Schuyler and Abbey and Jeremy.  It was a HOT! HUMID! day, but the beauty and simplicity of the temple reminded me that the temple is the focal point of ALL families.  That is where we became united forever--so let me invite all of you again to not leave your chair empty in our family circle.  Jeremy--and all those others who have gone before--are organized in families, too, and are waiting for us to complete those family circles with the choices we make every day.  I love you.  I want to be together with you.  Please renew your own determination to keep us together.

PS--we also drove down to Cincinnati the night before and spent some time with Schuyler and Abbey and Jeremy.  Louis hadn't seen their house, so they gave him the grand tour then we all had dinner together.  

The next day after the open house, we went to the Indianapolis Zoo and the Indy 500 Raceway.  As a final celebration for a great experience,  we stopped for ice cream before going our separate ways to Cincinnati and Columbus.  

Louis and I then attended Barry's new ward on Sunday before leaving for Denver.  They had already been nurturing Barry and were very welcoming to us, as well.

It was another tender mercy as far as my work.  Though I had to suffer through a "READY" Reserve month (and they called me EVERY time just about 2 am for my current assignment), it was my SECOND choice.  Unheard of in nearly 15 years at United.  It was a schedule that had eight days off smack in the middle of July.

They used me constantly before the vacation and every day after the vacation, but those few days in Ohio were really great!  However, I was not sorry to come in from my last July assignment on the 29th and know I no longer had to sleep with the phone by my bed, even though it meant I had to start my first August assignment early the very next day.  

I have had so many tender mercies with my work "fitting into" what I need to do.  I have only to remember to have faith that if I turn things over to the Lord, they may not work out the way I have in MY mind, but as he can see the end from the beginning the solutions HE comes up with are always doable!  

See you here at the Blogspot in August!

MODERN PIONEER SAGA...

Beginning with the very first Nichols Family Pioneer FHE when Harold and Brice were just toddlers, this has been absolutely one of my favorite traditions over the years.  Each July it seemed we got a little more authentic--and original--as we celebrated the grand heritage we have on both sides of the Nichols Family, both the Huggins and Nichols ancestors who all made the trip from Europe to America to begin a new life for religion or seized an opportunity to start anew.

A few years while you were growing up we got bold enough to invite neighbors and friends--sometimes from the ward and, most memorably, from the neighborhood.  Who could forget the years we invited the Hirsches, the Less', the Callahans, the Lopez' and the Groves--not all of those at the same time, of course.  And  it was the success of those FHE's which made me bold enough to think maybe some of our current friends would enjoy a fun evening much like the Nichols Family used to pony up to in years gone by.

There have been more than a half dozen families in our Carlson Farm Ward who have included us in their Sunday dinners, summer bar-be-ques, and made us recipients of their treat basket drop offs.  In fact the list of families got so large--and my fearful aversion to having to reciprocate with dinner so out of proportion--that I began to cast about for some kind of activity which would be FUN for me to plan and execute. NOT something like invite each family over for dinner.  Yikes!  I can hardly cook for the missionaries anymore let alone dinner for whole families!

Voila!  It is summer.  It is July.  It was an idea that just came together when one of the families suggested we get together sometime and order in pizza.  That was it!  A MODERN DAY PIONEER celebration!  And the kernal of thought took off by itself and germinated into a very fun and memorable evening the other night at our very own Sweetbriar homestead.  A Modern Day Pioneer Pizza Party on July 27th for FHE.

All of the families were able to come but the Andersons who had just taken off for a two week vacation.  Still, we had a backyard full of 36 people--adults and kids--who were enthusiastic to celebrate in a storied "Nichols Family Traditional Family Home Evening".  Even Louis, who still does not share our Nichols Family FHE enthusiasm, kicked in and helped out as I planned for the Pioneer games we all got such a kick out of in years gone by.  Our Secrest Court backyard would have been ideal for a group this large, but we made do with a much smaller space, and it wasn't even crowded the way we set up the games around the perimeter and left the grassy area open for the families to sit on their blankets.

Though there were SIX "Kid Colters" that night instead of just the two Grove boys, we were able to keep a lid on most of the games:  stick/ball, 3-legged races, hoops, pounding nails, and milking contests.  The absolute favorite was the group Tug of War, which Louis really planned for including a new, huge/long rope.  

In addition I added a couple of new games.  One was a Camping Game--Then and Now where they had to determine which time frame such amenities as soda pop or candles fit into.  There were twenty different choices.  

The other game was similar to Walking the Dog from D.R.'s anniversary party years ago.  I asked Cheyenne to make a poster of the Pioneer Trail snaking through the desert, the streams, and the mountains from Iowa to the Salt Lake Valley.  She did such a good job!  Then I made 15 action cards with descriptions like "burned the biscuits--lose one turn" so each family could move a marker from start to finish.  

We asked everyone to come Pioneer--dressed.  But I had a whole stack of neck scarves and hats just in case someone came without a pioneer apron, bonnet, or hat.  But these Modern-day Mormons ALL had  Pioneer stuff.  No one needed a costume. We also asked them to bring drinks for their own families and a dessert to share with everyone, a blanket to sit on in the wagon circle, and a Pioneer story to share.  As you would guess, I was prepared with the Red Coat and the Skirt That Grew on a Bush stories, but everyone had their own contribution--including the two families who were the "Pioneers" in their family.  So, I didn't tell our traditional favorites.   We sang Pioneer songs around the "campfire", too, though Louis didn't go so far as to actually put wood in the new fire pit we've had since last summer and never used.  And...we furnished the pizza!

It said 6-8:30 pm on the invitations, but it was well past nine p.m. and full dark by the time people were ready to go home.  I took that as a sign people were having a good time.  I certainly did.  It was like having family around again, albeit they weren't as well-schooled about how to play the games and go all out Pioneer style the way the Nichols Family knows how to do.  

It was was an original and fun reciprocity to thank our friends (who are all the ages of my own children and grandchildren) for their very welcome part of our life.

SUCCESS WITH A CAPITAL "P"!

SUDDENLY SUMMER!

The rain stopped.  The clouds lifted.  The sun came out.   ...and it was full-blown SUMMER!

Of course we missed just about a month of the lovely May and early June weather which is my absolute favorite time of the year. But the world looks magnificent!  Another plus: the water bill has been negligent.

Though the moisture was hailed by most, the farmers have had a tough go of the land around here.  Their fields have been flooded, so they couldn't plant crops.  Animals, if they had any, were sloshing around in mud baths in their barnyards.  And the growing season has been marching right along making a shortened season with fields of corn and hay probably not growing to maturity.  Lost crops. Lost money.

In addition there are still trees and bushes in nearly every yard that were shocked into dormancy during the below freezing temps the beginning of May.  Experts say that it might be the end of July before that foliage will recover--if at all.  I surely hope so.  That one "dead" tree in our back yard leaves a huge gap where there was plentiful shade last summer.  Plus, the neighbors tore out all the trees that bordered their yard along the walkway, and now there is a humongous area where there will be no shade at all.  That was one of the perks of last summer's back yard paradise at Sweetbriar:  shade, and an abundance of it.

I haven't taken the lawn furniture out of the garage yet.  Though it is supposed to be "waterproof", the kind of heavy rain we have had would definitely have penetrated the fabric and made it really difficult to dry out.  So, I am biding my time.

Hopefully this will be the last summer that I have to "share" with United.  I think I'm ready for a little full-time backyard R & R. 

50th ANNIVERSARY MEMORY RECALL...

Last year Savannah Nichols was the first of the "Second Generation Nichols Kids" to graduate from high school.  It also marked the 50th anniversary of my own high school graduation in May 1964.  I wrote Savannah this letter and gave it to her as part of my present to her.   I hope she will remember it as a loving gift--a tidbit of my personal history which tells in detail about a similar experience so many years before her own.  And because we only celebrate an event once for a 50th anniversary, I thought maybe the rest of the family might enjoy reading about this little blast from my past.

May 2014

Dear Savannah,
I never dreamed when I graduated from Rawlins High School in May 1964 that 50 years later I would be celebrating the high school graduation of my first grandchild.  On that fragrant Spring night half a century ago, all my classmates and I could muster about the future was to joke that in 20 years we would be able to see if 1984 was really the way George Orwell imagined it in his famous science fiction novel.  Twenty years seemed so far away.   There was no way to imagine 50!  Or that we would be in a new century AND a new millennium.

So in honor of that 50 year span, and the fact you have been accepted at my own Alma Mater to continue your studies, I wanted to share some of my senior/graduation experiences and some of my thoughts at this time with you.

My graduating class had 113 people.  I was number three and the highest ranking girl in the senior class.  It was a switch in placement for me and Lyle Bareiss.  When we graduated from the 8^th grade in 1960, I was second and gave the Salutatory Address.  Lyle was number three.  Guy Ray—handsome, drop-down dead good looking, great athlete, and every girl’s dreamboat—remained at number one.  He gave the Valedictory Address both in our 8^th grade graduation and for our graduation from high school.  That meant that Lyle had to give the second place talk in 1964.  I was off the hook for that but disappointed in myself that I had slipped from second to third place.

Graduation back then was a pretty serious step in one’s life.  It was a sober business to be graduating from high school and embarking on another path to higher education or a skilled profession.  Or the Military.  The United States still had a draft law then which meant that as soon as a young man turned 18, he registered with the Selective Service System who conducted the draft procedure for our country.  If a young man went to college, he had a 1S (C) status and was deferred from the draft as long as he went to school.  If he didn’t go to college, then he was automatically put at the top of the list as 1A and was drafted within weeks of his 18^th birthday or whenever he quit college. 

Graduation itself back then was also a pretty formal affair.  The Sunday evening prior to the graduation ceremonies, the graduates and families convened for a spiritual message (given by one of the local clergymen) just exactly the way they would for graduation a few days later.  Our fairly new high school—the first graduating class was the year we graduated from 8^th grade—didn’t have an auditorium like the old high school-turned-junior high did.  But all those rows of chairs and the dignitaries sitting up front made it seem like more than the cavernous space where we had cheered our athletic teams, attended assemblies, and held our prom.  At the Sunday night baccalaureate service where we marched in two by two—boy and girl, boy and girl—we filled in the rows of folding chairs  set up in the gymnasium.  That was good practice for our “real” walk to Elgar’s familiar Pomp and Circumstance.  Just hearing that piece of music now still stirs the excitement and trepidation I felt at that time.

I also felt important. All eyes were on us. Parents and families were trying to pick their own special person out of a sea of white mortarboards and white graduation gowns on the girls and maroon caps and gowns which the boys were wearing—basically white and red which were our school colors.  The process for ordering the cap and gown which was heavy robe material and only on lease—we kept nothing but the silk tassel—ordering  the announcements from Josten’s—everyone’s was exactly the same with a personal name card inside—and trying to keep all the instructions in mind was mind-boggling, but it was finally behind us.  The announcements had been sent out weeks before, and we were actually wearing the gowns.  Ready, set, GO!

And when I talk about formal, I am also talking about formal dress under the gowns.  The graduates wore dress-up clothes.  The boys had to wear white shirts, dress slacks, dress shoes and ties so the knot showed at the neck front of the gown.  The girls wore fancy dresses with heels and hose.  My dress was a cute one-piece with bloused top and high neck.  The fabric was what was referred to as a marshmallow crepe in a pale pink abstract print on a white background.  My shoes were white sandal pumps.  I looked chic!

A couple of months before the end of school, my dad made me drive my mother and myself to Salt Lake City so I could purchase a new dress for graduation and also my prom dress.  No small town outfits for me!  I was scared to death to drive that distance by myself—meaning the only driver—but my dad pooh-poohed my fears and said I would do fine.  After all, I had been driving since I was 11 years old, and had gotten a license when I was 15 as soon as I was of legal age.  And true, I had driven much of the distance to Utah myself anyway while my dad was sleeping in the back seat.  So, my mom and I set off for the big city and were savy shoppers at the big department stores (Aurbach’s and Z.C.M.I.) on Main Street just down from the temple.  Both dresses and the shoes came in under $100.  (I think the dresses are still in a box down the basement.)

I was in the hospital with some kind of influenza the whole entire last week of school during my senior year.  Not only did I miss most of the exams (the scholastic status had already been determined, so grades on the exams wouldn’t have made a difference) I also missed a lot of the fun—Senior Day among them, although now I don’t even remember what we were supposed to be doing to celebrate.  I did have to take the trig exam, but the teacher asked me the questions, and when I didn’t know the answers he “guided” me to the solution (most of the answers probably—that was one math class in which I didn’t do so well.  One reporting period I got a C.  It was the only one I ever got in my life.)  Anyway I was glad to be out of the hospital just a couple of days before graduation though I still felt weak.  Plus I was able to attend the one graduation party at which I really wanted to be.

In a way that hospital visit gave me some kind of celebrity status.  I had lots of sympathetic visitors, and Lyle Bareiss even came to ask if I would “walk” with him for the processional.  I was afraid that I would be assigned the person I would walk with according to the alphabet.  So, that made me happy.  Since Lyle was number two and I was number three in the class, I was right up at the front as we walked into the gymnasium.  Guy Ray,  number one, and Karla Santich, "no status", but Guy’s "wannabe" girlfriend were the head couple.  Numbers two and three—that would be Lyle and me—were the second couple.

Since there were so few people in my class—the next year was the start of the Baby Boomers and they had 250—it is safe to say that I knew every single one of them.  And some of them I had gone to school with since Kindergarten.  Both Jane Peterson and Teresa Spencer had even been in the same section of every class, every year in elementary school.  Oh, and I think Marie Jack was, too.

I remember thinking we were soooo grown up.  We were so much more sophisticated than the under classmen.  But I remember also how apprehensive I was about taking off for college.  Finally at the point of feeling comfortable at last after four years, I wouldn’t have minded sticking around for another year.  Provided everyone else did, too.  I wouldn’t have wanted to be the ONLY one doing a victory lap.  But that’s not how things work.  Life moves on and you better be on board moving right along with it.

Because of my scholastic status in the graduating class, I was offered a full-ride scholarship to the University of Wyoming.  But I told my guidance counselor I didn’t want it.  I wanted to go to BYU and applied for a scholarship there.  The counselor asked me what I would do if I didn’t get the scholarship.  Surely I would reconsider and go to the University of Wyoming at that point.  NOPE!  Even if I didn’t get a scholarship, I knew I wanted to go to BYU.  But I DID get the scholarship.  The only thing that bothered me going forward was the gnawing at the back of my mind about what I would do if I lost the scholarship because of my grades.
Much of the rest of that experience has faded now.  It was so vivid I thought I would never forget every little detail.  But I have.  Yet I do remember it as a really terrific time in my life.  It seemed to be a very visible major step across a threshold to the next part of my life.

So, Savannah, you probably have some of the same fears and feelings of exhilaration.  Life isn’t so different after all.  Just the trappings that accompany each of our decades is different.

I sincerely wish you well.  I am beaming with pride for your accomplishments and am certain you will find fun, friendship, and a lot of opportunity to fuel your faith in yourself and in your abilities.  You have proven yourself a leader.  Be that assertive person in your living space and in your ward.  As a freshman, I was in the newest created ward on Campus—the 56^th, in six separate stakes.  I can’t imagine how many there are now.  But there is plenty of room for you to shine.

Take care!  Soar with exuberance!  And remember to live in gratitude for this wonderful opportunity that you helped come your way.

Love from your father's mother,

Georgia Carol Huggins Nichols-Bateman
a.k.a.  Momma G

MOTHER'S DAY 2015...

"a GOOD mom lets her kids lick the beaters.  a GREAT mom turns the beaters off first!"

I was standing in a long line at the little post office in Johnstown the other day to mail several cards and a couple of packages when my eyes rested on a turnstile of greeting cards for sale.  There were about eight people in front of me with only one clerk, so I idly glanced at some of the cards for "Friendship" "Missing You" and "Congratulations!"

As I spun the display some Mother's Day cards came into view, and I took out one or two, read the sentiment, and replaced it before I spied one with a drawing of a mixer with two beaters full of cookie dough.  The copy read, "a Good mom lets her kids lick the beaters."  When I opened the card I read the punchline:  "a GREAT mom turns the beaters off first!"

I began laughing.  A chuckle at first, but the more I played it over in my mind, the harder I laughed until I was practically snorting with hilarity because I thought it was soooo funny!  Finally I tapped the guy in front of me on the shoulder and said, "You've got to take a look at this one."  He took that same card out of the rack, read it and started laughing, too, before he put it back.  Then, he turned to me and said, "I've got to buy that one." And he did.  I told Louis about it when I got to the car and began laughing all over again then...and ditto the whole rest of the day every time I thought about it.

Today I thought about it again.  Only this time I thought about it in terms of myself. 

I was a GREAT mom.  Sure I made some mistakes, even some big ones that have maybe traumatized you and made you suffer all the while I have been mostly unaware of the pain I might have caused.  But I never, ever got up any morning and said to myself, "Today I am going to make my kids miserable and unhappy by doing or saying something insensitive or hurtful."  Nope, I just got up with the idea that I had a job to do.  And I did it the best way I knew how, from the example of my own parents, lessons at Church, and articles and books I read from the "experts".  But I loved being a mother!  It was hard work, and, admittedly, I made it more challenging by setting high standards for myself and for my children. 

Truthfully, there were years I really did not like Mother's Day in terms of myself (only to celebrate my own mother) and felt some guilt that I didn't measure up to some perceived notion that most other mothers were better than I for any number of resons.  Yes, some time in the past has been spent apologizing to you for things I did--or didn't--do. However, now I am at the point I can look back and say with all honesty, "I was a GREAT mom!"

Not only did I believe I had a responsibility to love and nurture you, but I also believed it was my job to teach you the gospel. Of course providing a clean environment, well balanced meals, appropriate clothing--Ross remembered that NOT being the case as he grew up--and what limited opportunities we could afford for the extras like piano lessons and some sports because I stayed home all those years, plus TLC for cuts and scrapes and bruises of the body and soul were all important.  Yet I know in my heart, that for which I will be most approved in my role of motherhood is that I taught you the gospel.

It seems that you have arrived at a sufficient point of experience in your own lives that you don't need to seek my advice--maybe because you truly believe I have no credentials to offer advice--but I hope now and then you have occasion to reflect on some of the things I taught you while you were growing up.  Perhaps you even used those experiences as a pattern in making decisions in your own lives.  I fancy believing that now and again you actually think I "did good" as your mother. That musing kind of warms my heart and helps me realize the joy promised to a "mother heart".

2015 is the 101st anniversary of this holiday whose real beginnings were "Mothers Friendship Days" which were instrumental in the reconciliation and healing of the wounded in families from both sides after the Civil War.

Charmaine Yoest writes, "At its heart, Mother's Day is a recognition of the power of motherhood. Motherhood binds together families and communities, and is a celebration of the unique contribution that a mother provides not only to her family but to the broader community as well.  Recognizing women on Mother's Day shows respect for those who choose every day to do the wonderful and hard work of parenting." I add to that statement, whether women have biological children or not.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

BECOMING AS LITTLE CHILDREN...

NOTE:  I am now in my 15th year of writing a monthly Visiting Teaching Letter to the sisters in my ward who are on the "no-contact" list.  A few years ago I compiled some of those "LETTERS OF TESTIMONY" into a small booklet to share with family and friends.

For the last several months the topic of the monthly Relief Society lesson has featured attributes of the Savior.  For April the attribute for study is "without guile or hypocrisy".  It is an attribute I want to emulate all the time, though I fall down sometimes. 

In thinking about personal experiences with this particular attribute of Christ, I remembered this little incident in the early 70's.  I have decided to keep it as a handy reference to remind me why the Savior has asked us to become like little children.  (See The Ensign, April 2015, p. 7 for the complete lesson reference.)

April 2015

I have a unique painting of Jesus Christ displayed in my home.  In it Jesus looks like a carefree young man who is carrying a little boy on his shoulders.  They both look happy.

The scriptures are clear that Christ liked to be with little children.  He took them into his arms and blessed them in both the Old and New Worlds.  In Mark he said, "...for of such is the kingdom of God."

We can imagine that the kingdom of God is peopled with those who are without guile or hypocrisy--that is what little children are.  We can learn much about being without guile from them.  They are innocent, honest, and pure.  They are not trying to act differently from what they are feeling or thinking.   There is no ulterior motive for their actions, no putting on a mask to hide something they are not.  They are simply like Christ--without guile or hypocrisy which is the attribute of Jesus Christ we are learning about this month.

Years ago when my two oldest boys were just toddlers, my husband decided to go back to school and therefore went straight to the university every night when he left work in Denver before coming home to Arvada.  That meant the evenings without him were long and lonely.  So I devised a little activity that my small boys and I looked forward to and enjoyed for a couple of hours on those weekday evenings.  I called it "School" and suggested since Daddy was at school, we could be at school, too.  Every night after their baths, we would gather around the kitchen table where I had laid out little exercise books, puzzles, word games and other fun learning activities.  That was the incentive they had not to spend too much time playing in the bath tub.

One night Brice was having such a good time in the tub, he just didn't want to get out.  I'm not sure if I had something special I wanted to share with both of them at the same time or maybe I was weary or had something I needed to do after they went to bed or maybe I was just tired of being alone at night without Ross.  But...after repeated reminders, I gave the ultimatum that if Brice didn't get out of the tub right then, he would have to go straight to bed and not play "School" with us that night.

Another few minutes passed while Harold and I kept busy doing something together at the kitchen table.  Suddenly a scrubbed and cheerful Brice

appeared in the doorway with a bright smile ready to join in.  I flat out told him he had taken too much time and lost his turn to play school that night.  I was firm. "Go to bed!"  Brice's face fell in disappointment and his smile faded, but I was adamant.

Then Harold spoke up.  He told me Brice hadn't meant to take so long in the tub, and couldn't we--just this once--let him play with us instead of having to go to bed all by himself?  Please...?

It wasn't what Harold said.  It was the two big tears that were coursing down his cheeks in pure empathy that made me realize these weren't two little kids bent on making me upset or deliberately dawdling so MY plan didn't work.  Here were two sweet little boys who just wanted to be together with me and do the fun things we had been doing every single night.  That flash of understanding stabbed me straight to my hardened heart.

I learned a lot about "without guile and hypocrisy" that night and why Christ put the little children in his midst and told the people they needed to become like them-- because the little children were like him.  Understanding that concept will help us strive to follow Christ's example.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the First Presidency said, "None of us is quite as Christlike as we know we should be.  But we earnestly desire to overcome our faults and the tendency to sin.  With our heart and soul we yearn to become better with the help of the Atonement of Jesus Christ."

That inspiring picture of Jesus with the little boy on his shoulders is on the wall that faces the staircase in my home.  Almost every day when I come down those stairs I am reminded that Christ liked to be with little children.  I want to be "child-like".  I want Christ someday to "like" to be with me.

The lesson says, "We know 'we will be judged according to our actions, the desires of our hearts, and the kind of people we have become.'  Yet as we strive to repent, we will become more pure--and 'blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God'".

We cannot go far astray if we keep looking to little children, who are without guile and hypocrisy, as our role models while we work on emulating the Savior.

LIFE IS GOOD....

EVERY FLIGHT ATTENDANT HAS A STORY...

Most of the stories have to do with some kind of assignment that turned from the normal to the out of the ordinary; something like deadheading to an assignment, laying over, and then deadheading back--for more than just one leg or two.  Or maybe sometime they got "lost" in the system and the crew desk didn't locate them for a couple of days while they just enjoyed laying around a hotel until they were "found". I've heard some stories where FA's ended up flying just a fraction of the assigned hours and still got paid for the whole trip.  In short, anything that would make a flight attendant hearing it wish she'd had an experience like it.

I used to tell Louis about these incidents and wonder aloud why nothing like THAT ever happened to me.  It seems like the crew desk always knows where I am, and for every flight that gets cancelled or changed for some other crew,  MY flight is always the one right before or right after the cancelled one.  So, my crew ends up with the excess passengers who are stuffed onto an already full flight.

A few years ago I had "kind of" an amazing--for me--assignment that ended up where I flew only nine hours out of 25, had a day room, got out of a cross-country LAXIAD flight, deadheaded when some plane had a mechanical, and spent 25 hours in San Francisco--but at the hotel I requested instead of having to go downtown.  When I got home from that trip and told Louis what had happened he said,"  Well, now YOU have a story."  But as the years have rolled on, it has lost its luster and everyone else's experiences sound better than mine once again.

Until last week.....I got a call at 4:30 AM for a 9:05 AM check in to begin a four-day trip.  I didn't have to be the purser, it was all on an airbus and one 757 which is a treat after working on those new 737 900's, and there was a long layover scheduled in Fort Lauderdale.  I wasn't too keen on that since I had a layover there duringSpring Break a couple of years ago.  The whole place--beach, boardwalk, hotel, eateries, etc.--were full of students there for a riotous good time.  I hadn't enjoyed it.

However, this ID noted that after a very looooong first day DENDFW, DFWEWR, EWRFLL over eight hours of flight time  all on the same plane, our layover would be 22 hours at a Marriott Resort Hotel in Pompano Beach.  Woop-de-doo!  That meant NOTHING to me.  Still didn't when we got there because by then it was late at night and the drive from the airport had been about 30 minutes.  The room was exceptionally clean and crisp, as were all the acoutrements. It looked like it had probably been remodeled recently.  But it was dark and I couldn't see anything around the place.  Every time I saw some strip mall or shopping center while we were driving there, we kept going further down the road which would be much too far for even ME to walk the next morning.  Oh, did I mention the desk clerk said the breakfast in the hotel restaurant 6 AM to 11AM was free for United people?  I decided that even though I was so tired and had planned to sleep a solid eight hours, the waffles were calling my name. I love hotel breakfast buffet waffles.  I planned to get there about nine AM.

The breakfast buffet was worth the entire trip!  I have never seen such huge serving platters (gorgeous white crockery ones) filled with fresh strawberries, blueberries, black berries, raspberries, pineapple chunks, melon cubes, and sweet smelling oranges.  There was also all the regular stuff for a breakfast buffet including scrambled eggs, tasty strips of bacon cooked just right, and all the pastries, yogurt, cereal, etc. you could want.  But....the waffles and pancakes weren't part of the buffet.  They were cooked to order, so there was a charge associated with them. I decided I could get my fill of that beautiful fruit and all the rest and skip the waffles this time.  And, the orange juice was freshly squeezed, with a sprig of mint and an orange slice over the rim of the frosty glass.  Food fit for a king!  I even had the option of sitting out on the beach restaurant's lanai where it was just a walk through the gate to the private beach right on the water.  I opted to stay inside.  (You know how much I am not too keen on the beach and the water.)

Then I went out walking. It was pretty much touristy stuff, but I had fun looking at everything and buying postcards.  Then it was back to the hotel for a much needed shower as the temp was in the 80's with humidity, of course.  I had the rest of the afternoon to read, snooze, write postcards--all of which I did out on my own little balcony with a pleasant view of the water, almost a picture postcard view in itself!  Since our limo pick-up wasn't until after seven that night, I'd had almost 12 golden hours to myself.  Life doesn't get much better than that.

Wait...it does!  We got to the airport only to find out that everyone who had been scheduled to fly to Newark on our flight had been put on the Continental metal flight which left an hour before ours did.  We had ZERO passengers in First Class and ZERO passengers in the Economy Cabin.  So, the three of us sat in the First Class seats, ate the First Class food, and acted like passengers for the three hours up to Newark. LIFE CAN'T GET MUCH BETTER THAN THAT!

And that's MY flight attendant story which elicits oohs and aahs from other FA's when I share it.  LIFE IS INDEED GOOD!