My Dad's Second Marriage to Jewell

After my dad divorced my mother, he married Jewell.  The wedding was in the backyard of a home in Salt Lake City.  It was after Sheri and I were married and living in Duckwater.  The wedding was performed  by a justice-of-the-peace.  Sheri and I were the only family who attended.  As a result, we received a visit from my dad and Jewell shortly after in Duckwater.  I assume this was on their way to their honeymoon.  The honeymooned in San Francisco.

Me the Roofer

The summer before I graduated form USU, 1980, I went to Salt Lake to work with my Dad. school, my dad hired me to help him with his roof.  He was remodeling his home in Salt Lake City, and I spent much of he summer with him, when I wasn't busy with work in Hyrum. 
I had never done anything like this, but my Dad showed me how to use the shingling hammer, and move the supports as I needed to. 

 My Dad put in that front window, but the first window was defective, so he and I had to exchange it and put in another window.  We also remodeled inside, enlarging the bathroom, and moving the kitchen to make another bedroom.

That is me way up there

Utah State Graduation 1981

I graduated from Utah State in 1981.  I had a double major in Social Work and Spanish with a minor in Journalism.  Knowing Spanish I received a BA.  Our college, Humanities Arts and Social Sciences, organized in the auditorium of Old Main, and from there we marched to the Spectrum for the ceremony.  My dad took lots of pictures.

Missionary Farewell

When I served my mission, you were still allowed to have a missionary farewell, and there was a sacrament meeting devoted to the farewell.  In those days, sacrament meeting was generally later.  Because there were two missionaries, myself and Russell Egbert, leaving at the same time, we shared the farewell.  The missionary farewell was also an opportunity for ward members to donate money to the missionary, which was used to get you in the mission field.
My mom prepared a large meal for the farewell.  I must admit, I do not remember what I said.  But these pictures attest to the influence of my mother and relationships.  There was lots of family from my father's side.

Dad and Roger Chase

Clyde and Geneve, and me bringing sherbet from the garage

Dad and Roger's wife?

Clyde Jr. Clyde Sr., Dad and Uncle Bill?

Uncle Norval and Bobby, Clyde Roger, Reed Olsen

Sara, Mom, Dianna, Aunt Audrey, Dad, Geneve

Yours truly

With friends Raeburn Ormond and Audrey Andersen

Krista, me and Raeborn Ormond

Mom and Aunt Audrey

My Poetry: 12/7/1941

12/7/1941

I wrote this poem as I wrote my father's Navy history.

12/7/1941

The world changed that day,

And young men felt the need to respond.

"We'll give ours back, we'll make it right,

We'll stand up, We choose to fight."

From the gridiron field, to the battle field,

From the school play to the battleship,

From the farm, from the literary club,

From the service group, From the study of books.

      They came to the boot camps to learn how to kill,

      And were taught to live in a world--

      Of bombs,

          Of bullets,

              Of torpedoes,

                  Of Knives,

      Of shells,

          Of oceans,

              Of bayonets,

                  Of strife.

They learned radar, and signaling, gunnery and knots,

Radio, mechanics, how to survive gas attack,

To jump from the deck of a ship,

God forbid they ever have to jump from the deck of a ship.

      And they drilled, and drilled, and drilled, drilled, drilled.

          They learned how to drill.

And they hoped when the time came,

When they passed through fire, that they might survive,

And return to the farms, the clubs and the fields,

And love their mothers and their children and their wives.

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.