Friday, May 31, 2013

Poem: Othello

This poem was written by a 10 year old student at Lutacaga Middle School.  It was published in 1962.  My sister Connie would have been a 10 and a student at Lutacaga at this time. 

Othello is so cheerful,
In every single way.
No matter how heartbroken,
It’s cheerful anyway.

Some buildings are old
But most of them are new,
Any spot you see
You would love as I do.

The puppies are so happy,
Running wild and free
Sticking their puppy noses,
Where they should never be.

Kitties are so fluffy,
Outnumbering dogs by three,
Hear them mew, mew, mewing,
Under the great Elm tree.

Come and live in Othello,
Come and join the fun.
We welcome you warmly.
Won’t you join us everyone? 

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Brad Thomas: Friend of my Growing up Years in Hyrum

zBrad Thomas was honored as the "Youth of the Month" in the second edition of the Hyrum Crusader (a city newspaper I put out in Hyrum after high school.)  It said, "Son of Mr. and Mrs. Jess Thomas. ... Brad is an Eagle Scout has received his Duty to God award.  He has been active in Fourth Ward Priesthood Quorums and has served as secretary, counselor and president in his quorums.  He is currently the senior representative in the Sky View Seminary Presidency, and in the ninth grade was president of the South Cache Seminary.  Currently participating as a forward on the Sky View basketball team, Brad is the second leading scorer on the team.  Brad also plays football and runs track, playing linebacker and defensive end in football and doing the high jump and helping a relay team in track.  Brad is treasurer of the Letterman's Club.  He has served on the Sky View student senate several times and is also a member of Who's Who in American Teenagers.  Ranked fifth scholastically in this year's graduating class  from Sky View, Brad has received many citizenship and scholarship awards, including a $100 Rotary Club scholarship this year and a special citizenship ward in the ninth grade at South Cache."
I knew Brad from church days, and from his playing on our Bantam Basketball team.  We were pretty good.  Brad was a year younger than I, but he was our big man and most steady player.  We actually took first in the Hyrum league, and earned the honor to play in a tournament at the Armory in Smithfield.  They played a higher level of ball than anything we had seen in Hyrum.  Needless to say we were overwhelmed by the pressure, all of us except Brad.  Brad was a true player, and the rest of us sort of amateurs.  We got trounced the first half, but Brad calmed us down, and we actually played with them the second half. 
Brad is one of those people I lost track of after high school.  I heard he became a physical therapist and had a clinic in Logan.  However I haven't seen him since going on my mission many years ago.  He was with the class of 76 and I 75.

9-11 Revisited: Sheri Saved Some Newspapers

This are scans of local newpapers from that day.  I still can't imagine the horror those people must have felt who were in the middle of this.   I imagine it was something like what people felt in Boston, or at Fort Hood.  We must be ever vigilant and not forget.  Terrorist are patient, and persistent.  We must not let our guard down too early.  I am thankful for those men who were prepared to take this fight over seas.  May we keep terrorists on their heals rather than giving them the opportunity to regroup.

My 9-11

More Positive Thinking Quotes

A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.

It is quite possible that money is not your problem, after all.  Your problem may be a lack of patience.  So learn how to harness time to let money work for you.

I am come that they might have life--and that they might have it more abundantly.  (John 10:10 KJV)

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure; than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much because they live in the grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.  Ted Roosevelt

Monday, May 27, 2013

Othello had Voracious Mosquitos

There were so many mosquitoes in Othello that the evening belonged to the mosquito, at least on the farm.  There came a time in the evening that the number of mosquitoes was so great, the only defense was to go in.
However my parents liked to seat on the back porch and talk after the heat of the day had subsided and before it got dark.  On year the decided to fight back against the mosquitoes.  They purchased, and had mounted on the shed across the driveway from our house a mosquito zapper.  This thing had a blue light to attract the mosquitoes, and an electrical current to zap them once they came near.  Early in the evening, the zapper would start to sound.  Zpt, there went the first mosquito burned up.  Then it would go Zpt, zpt, and you knew two in succession had met their end.  Then it was Zpt, zpt, zpt, zpt and the thing would be off.  It did have an effect on the total population.  A mosquito would still find us on the porch from time to time, but we were able to enjoy the cool air until it was time to go in to bed.  In the morning my dad would empty the catch basin of the mosquito carcases.  We could kill a lot of mosquitoes in the night

Memorial Day Poetry

 In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

By Moina Michael
We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

Memorial Day

 - Eula Gladys Lincoln
In distant field of sunny France
Where strangers come and go,
Amid the farms of Flanders, where
The fragrant breezes blow,
Our solder-dead in quiet sleep
'Neath crosses row on row.

Here shrapnel shells once shrieked and burst
And took their toll of death;
The very wind, itself a foe,
Bore poison on its breath.

Above their graves the birds now sing
As round that home of yore,
When, carefree boys, they romped and played;
Those childhood days soon o'er,
The boys to brave and strong men grown,
They romped and played no more.

They put aside their childish toys,
A man's work each must do,
And when their country called for them,
To her they answered true.

"We must protect our native land:
She shall not suffer wrong
For she has reared and nurtured us,
We're men and we are strong.
We'll bid good-bye to those we love;
It will not be for long."

With aching hearts and tear-dimmed eyes
We watched them go away.
Some have returned but many sleep
In foreign lands today.

Where English roses bloom and fade,
In France where lilies grow,
Among the fields of Flanders, where
The scarlet poppies blow,
Our soldier-dead are not forgot
Though strangers come and go.

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

- Mary Frye (1932)
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow;
I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain;
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush;
I am in the graceful rush.

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.

I am the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.


- Major General Daniel Butterfield
Day is done...
Gone the sun
From the lake...
From the hills...
From the sky.
All is well...
Safely rest
God is nigh.

Fading light....
Dims the sight
And a star....
Gems the sky....
Gleaming bright
From afar....
Drawing nigh
Falls the night.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Poetry I like: "A Flower Bloomed" to my Grandmother Mary Jane Ashton by Orrin D. Wardle

“ A Flower Bloomed”

To my Grandmother –
Mary Ashton Wardle

By Orrin D. Wardle


The flowers bloomed With colors bright
That verdant spring of fifty-six
 ‘Round Stockport town,
Down Cheshire way, On hills, In Vales,
In England’s realm.

The rains of March, With fog and cold,
Had nourished growth And brought the green
That dressed the hills And filled the vales
Throughout the land In April, May.

Beyond the town, Brim full of glee,
Roamed Little girls In play
And search to see, Enjoy,
The land’s display.
Four girls there were:
One Our Mary.

Who were those girls?
The Ashton Girls.
They’re William’s girls
And Sarah Ann’s;
Of yeoman stock who worked
In mills To earn Their bread
In poverty.


Wilford Woodruff And
Brigham Young Years ‘fore Had come
To that good land To teach the plan,
The word of Christ, Of Gospel lost,
To earth restored.

The parents heard;
The word they b’lived;
The Ashtons Joined
The Church of Christ.
In forty-one, They were baptized;
Then thought Of Zi’n
Across the sea.

When Mary came
In fifty-one The thought held firm,
“We’d go there now If Funds we had.”
They Labored Own Selves to sustain
While Waiting long.

From fifty-one To Fifty-six,
She grew, And played, And learned, And Worked
As little girls in England did
In age of Queen Victoria.

She went to church In cottage small.
She’d listened To the preachers
Tell Of  Joseph Smith,
Moroni too Who’d brought
The book From days of old.

She’d talked with friends
‘Bout Jesus Christ,
And questions
Asked her parents dear,
Why She On earth had come To live.
She’d Come to b’lieve
What Mormons know!

While daddy In the mills did work,
They saved A pence, A farthing here,
But Realized They’d never get cash funds enough
To pay Their fare.
Their Miracle Did Then occur!
The leaders Told about a fund –
Perpetual Emigration Fund –
For Worthy saints of Ashton mold.

Why Did they come?
We Can surmise they thought
Some Of a better life:
More free to be what they would be,
To have a job,
To own a home.

Or Was it faith In Zion Mew?
They Truly b’lived the Mormon book;
They Wanted place among the Saints:
They Pondered brief, Then Said,
“Let’s go!”

Meanwhile The girls danced down the lanes
With skipping feet And pumping hearts.
A hope A new Came to their house
As fresh new green bathed
All the land.

The flowers Bloomed
That verdant spring Of fifty-six
Excited girls chose What to go
And What to leave,
While Green The hills and vales

To gold They gave but little thought.
The girls More thought, ‘Mid grass and shade,
Of ships And trains And Indians,
Of buffalo And
Desert lands.

Would they be Safe?
With daddy, Yes! No fear; 
He’d Surely Care for them.
Their souls Were full of sheer delight:
We’re Going To-

Goodbye!  Goodbye!
The fond Farewells
To friends and home,
To relatives, With tears
But firmed In faith that they now had
In Gospel true.

If friends they’d leave;
New friends they’d have.
If home was left;
If birthplace left;
New birth had come.
They’d Leave the old;
They’d Find the new.

For They’d been Taught.
Missionaries had taught and told
With certainty How desert
Would, from rim to rim,
Be filled And make
The roses bloom.

And Thus That May
Of fifty-six,
As flowers bloomed
‘Round Stockport town,
The Ashtons Left their loved ones deer
To seek New life
In Zion land.

At Liverpool, They found Their ship
Whose Master Reed in record wrote,
“A man and wife, Each thirty-three,
And children Four By
P. E. Fund.”

Ship for Boston bound,
Six hundred saints,
Two hundred more,
Were being led by Priesthood
Called to organize
And see them through.

Great storms They had
With boisterous waves,
But sun Came out
And girls played on,
Chased ‘Round the deck
And through the ropes
As Captain yelled
Then smiled and bore.


Her sister dear, Her living doll,
Did die At sea, When Only two,
And then Was slipped beneath the waves,
To play No more.
“Oh, Father dear, In Heav’n Above
Why Took you her In life so new?
A babe In arms Was all we knew.”
And Anguish Filled
The hearts of all.

The ship sailed on,
Five weeks passed by,
Until They made the Boston port.
By train They went,
Through settled lands,
To end of tracks:
I’wa city.

There Wagons were To haul them on.
With Meager wealth, Uncertainties,
But Hope alive,
They fin’ly came to Council Bluffs,
The Gath’ring Point.

The plan was set.
They All Would walk a thousand miles
Across the plains And through the hills.
Their meager wealth And food supplies
In handcarts haul.

The handcart train, With wheels
So frail And box so small,
Set out Too Late; The season spent,
Yet Without choice, They set out West
Along the Platte.

The men did Pull; The women Pushed:
While children Small Did trudge along.
In sandy spots, On stubborn hills,
Young men Would help,
With shoulders Push.

Yes, He Was there Now twenty-one.
He’d crossed the sea,
Now Walked the plains with Martin group,
Fifth company: An Isaac Strong
Of Wardle line.

Then Mary Small Was only four.
Thus, If he saw, If her he knew,
She could have been 
But nothing more than little girl
Upon the plains.


They’d gone not far.
They yet Were on Nebraska plain
When mother said, “My time has come.”
Their Hearts Did Break! The baby died.
Their mother died!

Out on the plains, Where winds did roar
And Wild life ran, They Dug a grave,
A shallow trench, And placed Therein
The ones they loved
To wait Christ’s call.

Saints Gathered round Condolence grave,
“She’s now with God.”And “You’ll make out.”
The handcarts rolled And tears
Did stream down Mary’s cheeks
As on she trudged

“Oh Mother dear, Why Did you die?
The plain’s so broad The trail’s so long:
Who’ll Wash our clothes And meals prepare;
Who’ll Keep us safe With
Ev’ning prayer?”


Then William Felt His loneliness.
In tears, distraught, His reason broke.
A desp’rate man, He fled The train,
Went back To home
Across the sea.

“Oh, Father dear, Why Did you go?
The home We seek’s still Far away.
Who’ll Pull our cart; Who’ll Build our fire:
Who’ll Tell us right When we’re not sure?”
“Who’ll take them in?” “They’re three lone girls.”
“Who’ll pull their cart?”
Saints Took them in –
Sarah Betsy, And Mary too
Were taken in.

Soon Mountains rose before their view.
The days of fall Rushed Quickly past
And Winter’s blast Came
Far too soon to cloak the land
With Cold And Snow.

At Old South Pass Their Movement Stopped:
Crude shelters built Gave little help.
They’d left so late that
They now stalled in drifts of snow
On sagebrush hills.

“Be not afraid,” Some bravely said,
“We, Brigham know; He’ll send us food.”
But days passed on And food ran short:
First one, Then more,
Succumbed to death.

The girls did watch And shuddered
Hard As shallow graves were gug about.
Unmarked, The saints Went To their rest
As prayers Went up,
“Lord, Save us yet.”


E’en Betsy Froze Out on those hills.
She left but two:
Sarah Ellen was but seven And Mary five;
Two girls Alone
In winter cold

No Flowers Bloomed
Upon those hills,
And Wintry blasts Benumbed their hands;
But, Deep Within each little soul,
Each Softly prayed,
“God, with us be.”

As Mary Looked across the land,
Through drifting snow With eyes near froze,
She saw out there But
Gray of plains with gath’ring white
On hills of brown.

She looked about And Realized
The desert rose was far away,
For all she saw Was
Barren land of sagebrush gray
And Alkali.

The wagons Came That Brigham sent.
The little girls Were ‘Mong the first
To taste Of food That nourished them.
Then Saviors Took them
To their goal.

Bedraggled Girls To Zion came,
Their parents Gone, Bewildered Full.
What Would they do?
Where Would they go?
Would e’er again The
Flowers bloom?

But saints Are saints.
They’ll try to Do right.
So they did care And Took them in:
But life was harsh Scant time for care;
They Oft’ were used Much more
Than loved.

Thus Mary lone Passed through the years
As sisters two Went sep’rate ways.
No mother dear To bless at night;
No father’s hug To hold her

The little girl Still Hoped and dreamed
“Til By sixteen
She’d found a role as mother’s aid
In Isaac’s home To care,
Not bear,
His children there.

Was this the man, The Handsome youth,
 On ship she’d seenAs little girl,
Who Pushed their cart when help required?
He was the one Of Wardle name
Their clothes, Their beds, The dishes too;
She cared for them;
She cared for them;
She struggled on.
The garden corn Oft’ felt her hoe
As dawn to dusk She
Labored through.

From charity, Affection came,
And turned to love –
To fill The need of lonely girl
With Saddened heart,
Who’s Lived alone
With people ‘round

The place To work ‘Came place To wed.
For Isaac asked – She heard him say –
"You’ll Mary me;
Then here You’ll live as one of us,
Love All around."

She was His wife, His second wife,
By nuptials Joined and fully blessed
Through Pow’r of God
By joint consent. Sealed
At the Church Endowment House.

Fall colors passed. The spring green came.
She found Her place within their love.
She walked the lane, His hand in hers,
Displayed Her love
To Isaac dear.

One day She knew That she would have 
one of her own To have his name.
Her joy was full For now
She knew that Isaac’s true
She’d always be.

The winter blast’s Ne’ver cooled
Their love.
No flowers bloomed With colors bright,
But Fields of white Bespoke to her the purity
She’d Give Her child.

She Sensed the joy Her arms Would hold.
Her eyes would spark Then Turn demure
As Isaac Said.
“You’ll teach him well His God To love
Good works to do.”
She planned The clothes for baby wear;
She thought Of names He well might bear.
He’d Carry on the Ashton line E’en though
He’d have a Wardle name.

Through passing months She dreamed
And planned a life That soon more full would be.
No more alone! She’d hold him near –
Her blood -Her child –
The One She’d Rear.

The Flowers Bloomed
In April month of sixty-nine:
Bright buttercups And Indian paints.
The desert lands And Mary’s heart
Came all a-glow.

The baby lived; The mother died!
When At the gates of happiness,
She left this world. She’d
See no more the flowers bloom
When Springtime Came.

What Was her thought In final breath
As life did ebb,
What Did she think?
“From toil I’ free!”
Or could it be,“ My happiness
Denied to me.”

Might She Have Screamed in anguished mind
As life drained out?
“Oh, Wicked death, Thou Me Hast stung
Just when my dawn first breaks With rays
Of happiness.”

Dear God above,
Why Did she die before her time?
She’d just Begun her life to live.
Hard times And grief She’d put behind.
Her joy’d just come.

Then She was gone!
She Lived no more. Her child was here,
But she’d not raise the William
Named for father lost.
She’ll never have Her joy in life.
We mortals Cannot understand Why
Took You her in early life.
She’d lived Without, Been numbed With grief;
Then Took you her
Of joy deprived.

We’ll never know In Mortal life;
Though Faith we’ll have With hope alive;
But, If she knows –
I b’lieve she does –
She’s Seen the line
Through William come.

Three girls, Eight boys,
With Ten full grown Grandchildren
Come to live their lives And many more
Will be Her seed throughout
The generations Yet.

Bishops, Clerks, Patriarch,
Presidents some And couns’lors too
Teacher, Workers In Priesthood groups
As well as in

Missionaries Her seed became
To teach, Expound the Gospel full
Within the States, In land afar,
As faith Most kept
With Mary’s b’lief.

They all Trace back Through William lone,
The only one Born To that girl.
Mary Ashton Bore him alone
Then went her way
To dwell above.

She Waits the day, Not far away,
When All who b’lieve And True obey
Will Gather ‘round With fam’lies dear
To taste With her
Eternal life

If She came back And talked to us,
Might not She say
About that day in sixty-nine?
“I’d lived my life; I’d had my teast;
My son was born;
I Briefly Came on earth to live
I Hoped And Dreamed;
I suffered much;
But, Ne’ver forget, Although
I died
And quietly lie in death’s repose.
My flower bloomed,
And Through its seed
Spread o’er the land –
And will spread more.
Yes, yes: Yes, Yes:
My flower bloomed
That April day
In sixty-nine.”

Completed on September 4, 1979

Mary Ashton Wardle was born in Stock-port, Cheshire, England, on 13 Jul 1851. She came to America on the ship “Horizon” and crossed the plains with the Martin Handcart Company in 1856. Her son William was born 5 Apr 1869. Mary died in South Jordan, Utah on 5 Apr 1869.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Potato Harvester

Potato harvest was one time my father would hire labor (often migrant.)  The harvester would pull the potatoes out of the ground, and then send them down a chute which was made by a series of rods which would go around. 
These rods would carry the potatoes, while letting the dirt fall.  There was a place for several people to stand, and the would pick out the things that were not potatoes, rocks and clods.  One time someone was injured on this machine; I think it grabbed his finger.  There was also a time a rock was thrown that struck my father in the back.  I am not sure if it was the same machine.  Here is a description of a potato harvester from Wikipedia:
Potato harvesters are machines that harvest potatoes. They work by lifting the potatoes from the bed using a share. Soil and crop are transferred onto a series of webs where the loose soil is sieved out. The potatoes are moved towards the back of the harvester on to a separation unit and then (on manned machines) to a picking table where a people pick out by hand the stones, clods, haulm and reject clod. The potatoes then go on to a side elevator and into a trailer or a potato box.  (Wikipedia)

Othello and the Cold War

I have been enjoying "Granite Flats."    This is a 50s, 60s series dealing with the cold war, and the scare this put into people.  I have also come across the old Othello Outlook, 1962.  I started thinking, if the setting had been any different, "Granite Flats" could have been Othello, the town where I was born and lived until first grade.  Othello had a small Air Force radar base just south of town.  There were interactions with this base.  Sometimes it would be driving past the radar installations.  I remember most the geodesic domed facilities.  I don't know if the domes were on top of these buildings or not. 
borrowed pictures from the internet

We did take a first grade tour to the base, and I remember going into a building where young men were watching the radar screens.
The base also did out reach programs to the community.  In the Othello Outlook I read of Operation Skywatch, and a movie which was presented to the community.  Over 1000 people attended with standing room only at Lutacaga Elementary.  They presented a color movie of the activities of the radar station.  This is impressive for a community of 2000.  Operation Skywatch included local volunteers to basically watch the sky for intercontinental bombers.  
The other interesting thing about Othello is we were just 50 miles north of a large nuclear facility.  There were times when my dad would warn us not to eat the snow.  This had to do with the wind and the snow coming from the south.                            

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Beauty Contest Winner

I have no memory of it, but I was a beauty contest winner at nine months.  My mom received a free portrait of me as the prize.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Othello: Stubbed Toe

I loved to go barefooted.  And by going barefoot my feet were pretty tough.  One time I remember my brother Weldon being barefoot and struggling to walk I across some gravel.  I showed him how it was done by running across.  My mom had a hard time getting shoes on me.  I sure I would have gone to church barefooted if I could get away with it.
Even though I could run across gravel, I learned that freshly cut alfalfa was much worse.  My father took us with him to haul hay.  He suggested shoes but I declined.  I had walked on alfalfa before, of course when is was full and bushy.  This freshly cut stuff was a  different story.  It was like walking on pokey sticks.  I was at a lost, and I struggled to get to the edge of the field. 
The other drawback to running on rocks was the occasional stubbed toe.
This is not my toe, but shows a stubbed toe
I had my share, and they usually required my father to trim the nail with scissors, and then apply hydrogen peroxide. I thought that bubbly stuff would be the end of me.  I would blow on it, trying to over come the stinging.

Weldon's Bad Habit and Was Mom a Racist

When Weldon was young and we lived in Othello, he had a bad habit of eating paper.  He would grab wrappers and throw them into his mouth.  I am not sure if he ever swallowed, but he enjoyed chewing on paper.  He was probably early elementary age, first, second or third. grade.  I would have been Kindergarten age at the most.  Often when we drove in the car, mom would catch him chewing on paper.  I remember on time, in her efforts of trying to get him to stop, she explained how there was know way of knowing who had touched the paper and handled the paper in the process of it getting to him.  She explained that perhaps the people who had handled it may not have been very clean.  Now this is the part I am not sure about.  It seems to me she also said the paper could have been handled by a black man, in her efforts to sway Weldon away from this habit.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

My Wedding Day, August 11, 1983

Sheri and I were married a week after I had started a new job in Duckwater

This made for an interesting weekend.  We were married on Thursday.  We had an open house that evening in Hyrum.  When then took a day to travel and had a reception in Altamont on Saturday.  We traveled to Duckwater on Sunday, where we made our first home.

 We were married in the Provo Temple, in the morning.  My mother put on a wedding breakfast for us in Lindon at the home of a friend.  Sheri was beautiful  I love that woman.

Uncle Norval and Aunt Delsa
 The open house was in Hyrum Civic Center.  Dad came and his girlfriend caused a disturbance.  He gave us a casserole dish.  We had a hotel room for the night in Logan Connie and Kelly had gotten for us.  It was across for J.B.'s so we at there.  The next morning, Uncle Marvin woke us up very early pounding on the door.  He was always playing a joke.
I had the task of packing up my bedroom, and then we headed for Roosevelt, spending the night at Midway where they had a nice swimming pool from a hot spring.

She is still beautiful
 In Altamont/Bluebell receptions are different than Hyrum.  In Hyrum everyone just goes through the line and then sit and chats with those who are there.  In Altamont there was also a program.  I sang "Bridge over Troubled Water."  I attempted to play, but half way through I gave that up and just sang.
Cliff and Judy

Monte Bolton, second from right
Monte Bolton supervised my field placement in Roosevelt, and he more than anyone helped get Sheri and I together.  When I met Sheri, I went to him with questions about Sheri and her family.  He lived in Bluebell which is where Sheri is from.  Bluebell is a very small town.    Uncle Jerry and Aunt Judy manned the table as people came in.   As part of the program Sheri's brothers sand a version of Billy Boy.  They changed some of the words to make it funny, but as my mother sang that song to me as I was growing up that was OK.

Uncle Jerry and Aunt Judy manned the reception table as people entered
 I also sang a song I had heard Brother John Brenchely sing in the ward in Hyrum a Mothers Day tribute, "Visions."  Sheri's mom played for me.
I like this song and it had a theme Sheri and I both were in tune with.
I remember we served cream puffs.  I love cream puffs.
with my mom

Sheri's folks

Wedding Party

My family
Best Men are my brothers

Brides Maids
Sheri's family
 The reception also included a time for picture taking.  This was actually before the reception.  Sheri's brothers decorated our car.  They made a big mess, but we went strait to the car wash on the way out of town and washed all the shaving cream away.  We stayed in Roosevelt, and went to church in Roosevelt First Ward before heading to Duckwater.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Some Othello Memories: In Pictures
A link for written memories
 Dad bought an old Quonset hut from the military.  The materials from this were used for the house.  Grandpa Wardle helped to get the material.
This is the completed house.
The first job was to clear the land.  That is Dad on the tractor.

I don't know when the family took this trip to Grand Coulee Dam but I have vague remembrances of it.  However, no kids are in these pictures so I don't know if we were there.
Elder David Yorgensen.  Dad was in the bishopric with his father.  They were family friends and we would often visit with them in their home.
 Picture before I was born

Pictures with me as the baby.

Pictures with Charlie as youngest
Football Trio, The Packers

My Trike

Swimming Time

Mom, Billy, Charlie; Christmas cards on the wall

Just after we Moved from Othello