Where we walk to school each day
Indian children used to play.
All about our native land
Where the shops and houses stand.
And the trees were very tall
And there were no streets at all.
Not a church, Not a steeple
Only woods and Indian people.
Only wigwams on the ground
And at night bears prowl around.
What a different place today
Where we live and work and play.
Monday, March 12, 2007
A GOOD SUN TAN
Robert Lee Johnson our second child and first born son was a fun little fellow to raise. He was naturally happy and smiling. As he grew in childhood, he was a kind considerate person who was always thinking of the good of others. It was interesting to watch him grow and choose the “better part”. He seemed to be born with a built in sense of right and wrong.
The Lord blessed Robert with a special, kind, loving, sensitive personality. There was no question that Robert was a leader, but a very special blessed one. Leading just came natural to him and he was conscious of others and their needs.
Robert made sure his little siblings were well cared for and watched over. When the children played a game of Wiffle Ball the small ones always got a turn and the game was on the little child’s level. During the small ones time at bat, the ball was pitched slow and right over the batting plate so the little child could hit the ball. Oh yes, and there was no set number of pitches to get the child out. Sometimes the number of pitches could go as high as five or six. And a wondrous thing happened, when the small child hit the big soft spongy ball. The ball never arrived at the base before the child. The little one was always safe on base and there was lots of laughter cheering, and fun.
As he grew in childhood, he was a kind considerate person. One day he came home from first grade at the Grandview Elementary School and related the following story. At recess a fellow student was being teased by the other boys. He was teased because his skin was very brown. The little fellow was crying and feeling so sad. Robert said I told the kids, “You leave him alone. He has a very good sun tan.” The teasing stopped and Robert reported, “Then I went to play with my new found friend.”
At Parent Teacher Conference Mrs. Clark, the First Grade teacher, reported the story to us. And her comments were complimentary and praising of Robert. “Robert surely helped that his student. The little Mexican boy has not had any more problems in our class. Robert is a definite leader in our class room. He is a good leader and a real asset to our first grade.
The Lord sent us a special boy when he sent us Robert and we love him.
The Lord blessed Robert with a special, kind, loving, sensitive personality. There was no question that Robert was a leader, but a very special blessed one. Leading just came natural to him and he was conscious of others and their needs.
Robert made sure his little siblings were well cared for and watched over. When the children played a game of Wiffle Ball the small ones always got a turn and the game was on the little child’s level. During the small ones time at bat, the ball was pitched slow and right over the batting plate so the little child could hit the ball. Oh yes, and there was no set number of pitches to get the child out. Sometimes the number of pitches could go as high as five or six. And a wondrous thing happened, when the small child hit the big soft spongy ball. The ball never arrived at the base before the child. The little one was always safe on base and there was lots of laughter cheering, and fun.
As he grew in childhood, he was a kind considerate person. One day he came home from first grade at the Grandview Elementary School and related the following story. At recess a fellow student was being teased by the other boys. He was teased because his skin was very brown. The little fellow was crying and feeling so sad. Robert said I told the kids, “You leave him alone. He has a very good sun tan.” The teasing stopped and Robert reported, “Then I went to play with my new found friend.”
At Parent Teacher Conference Mrs. Clark, the First Grade teacher, reported the story to us. And her comments were complimentary and praising of Robert. “Robert surely helped that his student. The little Mexican boy has not had any more problems in our class. Robert is a definite leader in our class room. He is a good leader and a real asset to our first grade.
The Lord sent us a special boy when he sent us Robert and we love him.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
SLEIGH RIDING
In January 1959 the snow blanketed the ground in a heavy layer of white. Our family decided to avail ourselves of the wonderful snow cover. We loved the outdoors, and as was so often the case, we could have great fun without any strain on the pocket book.
It was early Saturday afternoon and our family drove up Provo Canyon to go sleigh riding. We drove past Vivian Park to a nice sloping hill on the north side of the road. The sleigh riding was in close proximity to the car, and that was important, because, little baby Stacy who was about ten months old, would remain in the car with an older person most of the time and that older person was Mother. In the vehicle it would be safe and warm for both baby and Mother.
As soon as we arrived at the hill, the children hurried up the incline and began to slide back down. We had a sleigh and an inflated inner tube to use in the sliding process. We had five children: Tafta, our only daughter was nine years, Robert, our oldest son, was seven years, Wesley was four, Kerry three and of course little Stacy.
The hill was a favorite winter spot and the outside edge of the sleigh run was tramped and firm from people going up and down the hill. Walking back up the slope did not seem so hard for the children because Robert and Tafta were always willing to help their younger brothers get back to the top of the hill. Robert was a sturdy, strong little boy and a good role model for his younger brothers and they all loved each other. Tafta, ever willing to love and help her brothers, did
all she could to assist.
The hill had been totally ours for over an hour. Then a teenage girl, her boyfriend, and her younger brother, who would have been about twelve, arrived on the scene. However, that was no problem, at all, because the sledding hill was nice and large and we all had plenty of room. It only took about three minutes to slide down the long hill. The slope was about two hundred fifty feet long from top to the bottom. Where the hill leveled off, the sleigh ride gently came to an end.
Wesley continued to say, “Let me go down the hill by myself. I am big enough. I can do it! I know how!” He kept this up for the greater part of the sleigh riding time. Finally, the twilight of the day began to approach. It was our last run down the hill and time to go home. The slope was empty and we decided to let Wesley go down the hill alone. We could not see or anticipate any problem or danger.
Dad placed the sleigh in the middle of the 50 foot wide run. He headed the sleight straight and true and Wes laid down on the sleigh. He was off. Wesley proceeded about thirty feet down the hill when his sleigh began to pull slightly to the right. The further he went, the more the sleigh pulled off the track to the right side.
Just at that time, the twelve-year-old boy appeared on the outer north edge of the sleigh run. The young man was swearing and yelling at the top of his lung capacity. The root of his anger stemmed from the fact he had pulled the sleigh up the hill and then big sister and boyfriend took the sleight away and the two of them went sailing down the hill together.
As the angry boy trounced along, we could see an accident in the making. The sleigh, carrying Wesley, was going to the right on an angle and it was obvious the boy and the sleight would intersect at the same point. Bob began to yell at the angry person to warn him. Bob was putting real effort into the warning and making all the noise he could possible muster. He also started to run down the snowy incline to help prevent a collision.
However, the angry young man did not hear or he did not pay attention to the warning and the dreaded inevitable happened. Young Wesley ran right into the back of the angry, flouncing fellow. Wesley, sleigh, and the big mad boy, all ended up in a pile on the snowy hill. The young man got up and went swearing and running on down the incline. He was well gone when Bob got to the collision site.
By the time we got to the car with sleighs, and the children, the three young people had gotten into their car and disappeared. There was nothing left to do but load all of us in our car and head for home. On the way home I asked, “Wesley, what did you say to the young man when you ran into him?”
I just said, “Why don’t you watch where I am going,” Wesley innocently replied.
“And what did the young man say to you?” I further inquired.
“Oh, he just yelled and said naughty words.”
Dear me I said, “I hope angry young man was all right and sustained no injury.”
It was early Saturday afternoon and our family drove up Provo Canyon to go sleigh riding. We drove past Vivian Park to a nice sloping hill on the north side of the road. The sleigh riding was in close proximity to the car, and that was important, because, little baby Stacy who was about ten months old, would remain in the car with an older person most of the time and that older person was Mother. In the vehicle it would be safe and warm for both baby and Mother.
As soon as we arrived at the hill, the children hurried up the incline and began to slide back down. We had a sleigh and an inflated inner tube to use in the sliding process. We had five children: Tafta, our only daughter was nine years, Robert, our oldest son, was seven years, Wesley was four, Kerry three and of course little Stacy.
The hill was a favorite winter spot and the outside edge of the sleigh run was tramped and firm from people going up and down the hill. Walking back up the slope did not seem so hard for the children because Robert and Tafta were always willing to help their younger brothers get back to the top of the hill. Robert was a sturdy, strong little boy and a good role model for his younger brothers and they all loved each other. Tafta, ever willing to love and help her brothers, did
all she could to assist.
The hill had been totally ours for over an hour. Then a teenage girl, her boyfriend, and her younger brother, who would have been about twelve, arrived on the scene. However, that was no problem, at all, because the sledding hill was nice and large and we all had plenty of room. It only took about three minutes to slide down the long hill. The slope was about two hundred fifty feet long from top to the bottom. Where the hill leveled off, the sleigh ride gently came to an end.
Wesley continued to say, “Let me go down the hill by myself. I am big enough. I can do it! I know how!” He kept this up for the greater part of the sleigh riding time. Finally, the twilight of the day began to approach. It was our last run down the hill and time to go home. The slope was empty and we decided to let Wesley go down the hill alone. We could not see or anticipate any problem or danger.
Dad placed the sleigh in the middle of the 50 foot wide run. He headed the sleight straight and true and Wes laid down on the sleigh. He was off. Wesley proceeded about thirty feet down the hill when his sleigh began to pull slightly to the right. The further he went, the more the sleigh pulled off the track to the right side.
Just at that time, the twelve-year-old boy appeared on the outer north edge of the sleigh run. The young man was swearing and yelling at the top of his lung capacity. The root of his anger stemmed from the fact he had pulled the sleigh up the hill and then big sister and boyfriend took the sleight away and the two of them went sailing down the hill together.
As the angry boy trounced along, we could see an accident in the making. The sleigh, carrying Wesley, was going to the right on an angle and it was obvious the boy and the sleight would intersect at the same point. Bob began to yell at the angry person to warn him. Bob was putting real effort into the warning and making all the noise he could possible muster. He also started to run down the snowy incline to help prevent a collision.
However, the angry young man did not hear or he did not pay attention to the warning and the dreaded inevitable happened. Young Wesley ran right into the back of the angry, flouncing fellow. Wesley, sleigh, and the big mad boy, all ended up in a pile on the snowy hill. The young man got up and went swearing and running on down the incline. He was well gone when Bob got to the collision site.
By the time we got to the car with sleighs, and the children, the three young people had gotten into their car and disappeared. There was nothing left to do but load all of us in our car and head for home. On the way home I asked, “Wesley, what did you say to the young man when you ran into him?”
I just said, “Why don’t you watch where I am going,” Wesley innocently replied.
“And what did the young man say to you?” I further inquired.
“Oh, he just yelled and said naughty words.”
Dear me I said, “I hope angry young man was all right and sustained no injury.”
QUILTING PART I: LA VERN FORSYTH TAFT
Quilting has been an integral part of my heritage and upbringing. As long as I can remember, I have been involved in one dimension or another in quilting. My mother made quilts all the time I was growing up. Quilts were a necessity at that time and stage in life.
She did dark colored camp quilts that were tied in various methods. Even the lining was a darker shade of fabric and usually flannel because it is warm. Warmth was essential in these quilts and also, they should not show dirt or soiling. These were the quilts used by my father to take on the range and stay over night when Dad rode to check on or gather our range cattle. The quilts were packed into pack saddle bags and served for Dad’s bed out on the mountain. In the cold winter nights when no camping or cattle gathering went on, I appreciated the warmth of these heavy quilts in our drafty, unheated bedrooms. These quilts kept us warm and probably preserved our lives a few more years over the long haul of life.
The covering of these camp quilts was made from heavy wool fabric because wool is warm, wears well, and resists soiling. Mom cut large size blocks of four inches by eight inches. She arranged the blocks in different patterns. One of her favorite patterns was to set them in a diagonal arrangement running from corner to corner. The larger quilt blocks worked up more quickly and were still very attractive.
Mom found time during the long winter nights to mark, cut, sew and quilt. She also made colorful artistic quilt patterns using scraps left from her sewing. These quilts enabled her to use her personal talents and create works of art. She took pride in these lovely personal works of artistry. It was pleasurable for me to point out to friends at sleep overs and to myself in quiet hours, the original use of the cloth: a dress, a skirt, an apron or a blouse, etc.
It was also fun to bring a previous-made quilt and sleep under the on going work in progress on the quilting frames. Looking up from the vantage point of the floor bed, we studied the quilted lines and patterns. It was a time of peace and security and safety. All felt right
with the world.
In Mom’s empty nest, or nearly empty nest years, she created a quilt top for each of her grandchildren and in so doing passed to each one of them an heirloom and legacy of love. She even created an original quilt pattern of her own, the “Letter Edged in Black.” Our youngest son, Rett was blessed to receive one of these original pattern quilts. Rett and Darcy, his wife, treasure their heirloom quilt as do all of our children. Rett and Darcy have their quilt displayed on a lovely wooden quilt rack in the hall of their beautiful home. I am pleased to see the quilt valued and well cared for. Mom died December 28, 1991, but she left and inheritance of great value to her posterity and a strong link in the legacy of my quilting heritage.
She did dark colored camp quilts that were tied in various methods. Even the lining was a darker shade of fabric and usually flannel because it is warm. Warmth was essential in these quilts and also, they should not show dirt or soiling. These were the quilts used by my father to take on the range and stay over night when Dad rode to check on or gather our range cattle. The quilts were packed into pack saddle bags and served for Dad’s bed out on the mountain. In the cold winter nights when no camping or cattle gathering went on, I appreciated the warmth of these heavy quilts in our drafty, unheated bedrooms. These quilts kept us warm and probably preserved our lives a few more years over the long haul of life.
The covering of these camp quilts was made from heavy wool fabric because wool is warm, wears well, and resists soiling. Mom cut large size blocks of four inches by eight inches. She arranged the blocks in different patterns. One of her favorite patterns was to set them in a diagonal arrangement running from corner to corner. The larger quilt blocks worked up more quickly and were still very attractive.
Mom found time during the long winter nights to mark, cut, sew and quilt. She also made colorful artistic quilt patterns using scraps left from her sewing. These quilts enabled her to use her personal talents and create works of art. She took pride in these lovely personal works of artistry. It was pleasurable for me to point out to friends at sleep overs and to myself in quiet hours, the original use of the cloth: a dress, a skirt, an apron or a blouse, etc.
It was also fun to bring a previous-made quilt and sleep under the on going work in progress on the quilting frames. Looking up from the vantage point of the floor bed, we studied the quilted lines and patterns. It was a time of peace and security and safety. All felt right
with the world.
In Mom’s empty nest, or nearly empty nest years, she created a quilt top for each of her grandchildren and in so doing passed to each one of them an heirloom and legacy of love. She even created an original quilt pattern of her own, the “Letter Edged in Black.” Our youngest son, Rett was blessed to receive one of these original pattern quilts. Rett and Darcy, his wife, treasure their heirloom quilt as do all of our children. Rett and Darcy have their quilt displayed on a lovely wooden quilt rack in the hall of their beautiful home. I am pleased to see the quilt valued and well cared for. Mom died December 28, 1991, but she left and inheritance of great value to her posterity and a strong link in the legacy of my quilting heritage.
PUDGE
Our second child, and first son, was a dark haired beautiful baby. He was born at the Utah Valley Hospital in Provo, Utah on August 2, 1951. Dr. Riley G. Clark was our attending physician and the baby was born at six P. M. in the afternoon. The baby was born two weeks before his scheduled arrival, but he was completely developed and considered a full term baby.
The child was beautiful and sweet and great love came with him from heaven. We really treasured this new baby and we named the little fellow Robert Lee Johnson. Robert after his father, Robert B. Johnson, and Lee was taken from the name of my father, Milton Lee Taft. Grandma, Olive Ethel Lyman Taft, took the name Lee from the southern general, Robert E. Lee. Olive Ethel felt that if you named a child after a great person the name sake would live up to and be worthy of the outstanding leader’s name. Robert was also welcomed and loved by his two-year-old sister, Tafta Johnson.
Robert was a handsome child with round cheeks and a solid strong body frame. He grew and thrived and filled out. His legs and hands were chubby and cute. He had a wrinkle across the thigh of his legs. There were dimples across the knuckles of his hands and he had a crease around his wrist. He was such a fun happy young person. My older sister, Aunt Cula Taft Ekker, with much love and caring, nick-named Robert, Pudge. The nick-name stuck for many in my family and Aunt Cula still refers to Robert as Pudge even though he is married and has a family of his own.
As a young child, Robert smiled often and was warm and content. He was not a cross baby and he did not suffer from colic. The baby started to sleep through the night when he was about a month old. I nursed him and I must have had rich milk because he was so content and happy. He was fun to love and care for. I made a curl on the top of his head when I bathed him. His hair had a tendency to curl and so the soft round roll of hair held this shape all day. He truly was a beautiful child.
I have to laugh when I remember feeding baby Robert solid food. He began to cry when he awakened from his mid-day nap because he was hungry. I watched the time rather closely and near the time of his awakening, I had two bowls full of food, one of vegetable and the other
full of ground home canned fruit. The food was already and waiting. I was quick and expeditious in putting spoonfuls of food into his mouth because he cried between spoonfuls. I guess he did not know there would be another mouthful of food coming.
At this stage in our married life we lived in an apartment on 5th West and 359 South, Provo, Utah. Harold Sowards was the owner of the duplex. We lived in the north apartment and Uncle Harold, as we began to call him, lived in the south apartment. He was an older man who was very crippled from the ravaging effects of arthritis. He walked with a cane and was very bent over. He loved our children as much as they loved him. One day he said to me, “I don’t think I could love my own children any more than I love these children.”
Uncle Harold was a wonderful person in our lives and us in his. He spent a lot of time with our family, especially our two children, Tafta and baby Robert. The door between our two apartments was often left open and the children went back and forth between the two homes.
The baby crawled into Uncle Harold’s house. It was not unusual to find Harold sitting in his big arm chair with the baby on his lap and little Tafta cuddled into the front corner of the seat. They would be reading a book. Uncle Harold provided the voice and the children the ears to listen and ask questions. All enjoyed the process very much.
A while before Christmas Harold remarked, “My, I hope we get some new literature to read for Christmas.” And, I can report that the children did receive quite a bit new reading material, in fact several new books.
Robert decided to learn to walk when he was ten months old. It was summer time and warm and lovely outdoors. He practiced walking holding onto Uncle Harold’s cane in one hand and onto
Uncles’ other free hand with his chubby little fist. It must be noted that children had to learn to walk in high top shoes at that season of time. And, so of course we followed the edict of the medical people right down to high top red leather shoes. Learning to walk in bare feet would have been a developmental disaster for the baby.
Robert matured and grew into a fine young man. He attended Brigham Young High School in Provo, Utah where he played on the football team. He moved to Provo High School when the B. Y. High School closed during his Sophomore year in school. He was captain on the Provo High Football Team. He also participated in the wrestling program at Provo High School. He was on the Varsity Wrestling Team with Joe Martinez as the coach. The wrestling team took State his
senior year. In addition, he joined the R. O. T. C. program and he graduated with very good grades.
Robert filled a full time two year L. D. S. Mission to Germany for our church. He was a fine missionary and was District Leader while in Germany. He attended Brigham Young University after graduating from Provo High School and was a member of the R. O. T. C in college. After four years of college, he completed the field of Civil Engineering courses and graduated from college. He was also commissioned an officer in the U. S. Army the same day that he graduated.
Words are not adequate to express the pride and appreciation his father and I feel for this choice fine son. I hope we can live exemplary lives and be worthy parents to such a fine out standing son. We are thankful the Lord sent Robert to our house to live.
P. S. Aunt Cula is eighty two years as of this date (March 2007) and she still calls Robert, Pudge.
The child was beautiful and sweet and great love came with him from heaven. We really treasured this new baby and we named the little fellow Robert Lee Johnson. Robert after his father, Robert B. Johnson, and Lee was taken from the name of my father, Milton Lee Taft. Grandma, Olive Ethel Lyman Taft, took the name Lee from the southern general, Robert E. Lee. Olive Ethel felt that if you named a child after a great person the name sake would live up to and be worthy of the outstanding leader’s name. Robert was also welcomed and loved by his two-year-old sister, Tafta Johnson.
Robert was a handsome child with round cheeks and a solid strong body frame. He grew and thrived and filled out. His legs and hands were chubby and cute. He had a wrinkle across the thigh of his legs. There were dimples across the knuckles of his hands and he had a crease around his wrist. He was such a fun happy young person. My older sister, Aunt Cula Taft Ekker, with much love and caring, nick-named Robert, Pudge. The nick-name stuck for many in my family and Aunt Cula still refers to Robert as Pudge even though he is married and has a family of his own.
As a young child, Robert smiled often and was warm and content. He was not a cross baby and he did not suffer from colic. The baby started to sleep through the night when he was about a month old. I nursed him and I must have had rich milk because he was so content and happy. He was fun to love and care for. I made a curl on the top of his head when I bathed him. His hair had a tendency to curl and so the soft round roll of hair held this shape all day. He truly was a beautiful child.
I have to laugh when I remember feeding baby Robert solid food. He began to cry when he awakened from his mid-day nap because he was hungry. I watched the time rather closely and near the time of his awakening, I had two bowls full of food, one of vegetable and the other
full of ground home canned fruit. The food was already and waiting. I was quick and expeditious in putting spoonfuls of food into his mouth because he cried between spoonfuls. I guess he did not know there would be another mouthful of food coming.
At this stage in our married life we lived in an apartment on 5th West and 359 South, Provo, Utah. Harold Sowards was the owner of the duplex. We lived in the north apartment and Uncle Harold, as we began to call him, lived in the south apartment. He was an older man who was very crippled from the ravaging effects of arthritis. He walked with a cane and was very bent over. He loved our children as much as they loved him. One day he said to me, “I don’t think I could love my own children any more than I love these children.”
Uncle Harold was a wonderful person in our lives and us in his. He spent a lot of time with our family, especially our two children, Tafta and baby Robert. The door between our two apartments was often left open and the children went back and forth between the two homes.
The baby crawled into Uncle Harold’s house. It was not unusual to find Harold sitting in his big arm chair with the baby on his lap and little Tafta cuddled into the front corner of the seat. They would be reading a book. Uncle Harold provided the voice and the children the ears to listen and ask questions. All enjoyed the process very much.
A while before Christmas Harold remarked, “My, I hope we get some new literature to read for Christmas.” And, I can report that the children did receive quite a bit new reading material, in fact several new books.
Robert decided to learn to walk when he was ten months old. It was summer time and warm and lovely outdoors. He practiced walking holding onto Uncle Harold’s cane in one hand and onto
Uncles’ other free hand with his chubby little fist. It must be noted that children had to learn to walk in high top shoes at that season of time. And, so of course we followed the edict of the medical people right down to high top red leather shoes. Learning to walk in bare feet would have been a developmental disaster for the baby.
Robert matured and grew into a fine young man. He attended Brigham Young High School in Provo, Utah where he played on the football team. He moved to Provo High School when the B. Y. High School closed during his Sophomore year in school. He was captain on the Provo High Football Team. He also participated in the wrestling program at Provo High School. He was on the Varsity Wrestling Team with Joe Martinez as the coach. The wrestling team took State his
senior year. In addition, he joined the R. O. T. C. program and he graduated with very good grades.
Robert filled a full time two year L. D. S. Mission to Germany for our church. He was a fine missionary and was District Leader while in Germany. He attended Brigham Young University after graduating from Provo High School and was a member of the R. O. T. C in college. After four years of college, he completed the field of Civil Engineering courses and graduated from college. He was also commissioned an officer in the U. S. Army the same day that he graduated.
Words are not adequate to express the pride and appreciation his father and I feel for this choice fine son. I hope we can live exemplary lives and be worthy parents to such a fine out standing son. We are thankful the Lord sent Robert to our house to live.
P. S. Aunt Cula is eighty two years as of this date (March 2007) and she still calls Robert, Pudge.
PRIMARY
My work in the Primary of the Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints began when I was nineteen years old in the year1949. Tafta, our first born child, was just five months old. I was called to be the Primary Chorister. I look back now and laugh at how ill prepared I was in music. I did not even know how to beat music patterns. The lady who was the pianist, taught me the beat of four-four, three-four and other time patterns. This was certainly a growing and learning
experience for me and I am grateful the calling came.
I tried my level best to fill this musical call to the fullest. At that time we could even teach holiday songs, as well as, songs from the Primary Song Book. We had a wonderful time and everyone seemed to enjoy the musical experience, teachers, children, presidency, and myself.
When I was twenty-two years old I became President of the Eleventh Ward Primary. Norma Gale, Arva Rowley and Sylvia Carter were counselors to me at various times. Elva Brailsford was the Secretary and she was very good. Bishop Harrison Scott was the Priesthood leader who extended the call to me.
I was very young to be the President of such a high and holy organization and first class effort, on my behalf, was put forth in the work. We loved one another as a Presidency and worked so hard together. The monthly Stake Primary Meetings were a source of uplift and help to our ward. We challenged to the teachers to have one hundred percent attendance at next Stake Meetings. The teachers did their best to support us and the attendance was always very high, but it seemed someone was always missing at the meetings. Finally, we promised the dear ones that we, the Presidency, would make Cream Puffs as a treat for their valance and effort in all being at the next stake meeting..
Our teachers gave great effort and sincerely tried. In the month of February we lacked two teachers, one was sick and the other had a sick child. Finally, in the month of March we reached our goal and every one of our wonderful instructors was at the West Utah Stake Meeting. We were all very pleased and proud and had such a good time in reaching our goal.
The following week the Presidency all went to Norma Gale’s home and made the treats. The following Primary day, wondrous big Cream Puffs filled with vanilla pudding and topped with luscious hot caramel topping was given to the teachers. We served it to our darling sisters during Prayer meeting. In my book, that is a Devine tasty treat and the sisters were touched and grateful.
I think I served for three years and I was released to get our new baby, Wesley Sowards. We built our new red brick home on the Grandview Hill in Provo, Utah in 1957. And of course, I began to serve in the Primary as soon as we moved into our home. I was called again as a Chorister. But this time I knew how to lead music and I hit the ground running. We had so very much fun and the kids did not have a choice, but to sing and sing we did. Brad Wilcox quoted me in his adult years. “Sister Johnson told use the Lord gave a us a voice to sing with. Now, you open your mouth and you come out with beautiful music. And, we did just that,” he quoted.
Our Primary was preparing the Primary Sacrament Program and we were practicing in the chapel of our ward house. I had done some fun changes to the way we presented the songs and the children were really putting forth effort and having a great time. Some stake personnel heard us practice and asked our ward to present the music at the next stake meeting so the wards could get new ideal for their individual ward presentations. Our ward Primary followed the stakes wishes. The Presidency and teachers helped in the endeavor and we had a great, fun experience.
One calling in the Primary that was especially dear to me was to teach the nine year old Blazer Boys class. I taught them for seven straight years. I even arranged my classed at the Brigham Young University so I could continue teaching the Blazers. One year I had thirteen Blazer boys in my class. Our son Kerry Ray was one of those boys and he was a joy to have in that group. The West Utah Stake leaders told our Seventeenth Ward Presidency that thirteen nine year
old boys was too many boys in one class.
The Presidency came me and wanted to know which boys I wanted to keep in my class. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. We had no problems in the class room and the boys were so darn good and learning. We loved one another and there were no problems at all. My reply to the Presidency, “You are not going to divide my boys. I love them all and we are having no problems. So, you stop worrying about us!” That was the last I heard about the situation.
Oh, it did filter back to me the Stake said “Well, Arleen Johnson can teach thirteen boys, but other classes in the stake must not be that large.”
Another wonderful experience I had with my thirteen boys was concerning Hoskie Upshaw. Hoskie was a Navaho Limonite boy Glen and Elaine Ellis had in their home through the Limonite Exchange Program. As the class began in the fall, I realized I was not reaching Hoskie. Now don’t get me wrong, he was no discipline problem nor did he cause any trouble. He just looked around the room and stared into space and I could not seem to touch his soul.
I began to pray over the problem and ask the Lord for help. The answer came to me. The boys needed some hands on activity. We took the Articles of Faith cards and put a plastic cover over the front so the card would stay clean as the boys studied and handled that important piece of paper. Next holes were punched around the edge of the two layers at a distance of one inch apart. Plastic boondoggle strings were then twined between the holes going in each direction.
That activity was the very thing that healed the problem. Hoskies fingers moved rapidly and fluently along the edges. His card looked smooth and beautiful. He then turned to the other members of the class. He helped and gave assistance to the boys who were struggling and the twine kept tangling as they worked. Hoskie was completely engrossed and had a marvelous time assisting others. He was quiet and kind and efficient.
That activity performed a miracle. It brought Hoskie out of his shell and he became an active part of our class. What a miraculous experience. I was so glad Hoskie was such an important part of our class and we all loved and respected him. Thanks be to God for small wonders performed in our behalf.
At one point in my primary life, I came to realize I had spent twenty-five years working in the Primary organization. It must truthfully be admitted, the gain from my Primary experience was much greater on my end of the deal. What a true blessing in my life. Thanks be to God.
experience for me and I am grateful the calling came.
I tried my level best to fill this musical call to the fullest. At that time we could even teach holiday songs, as well as, songs from the Primary Song Book. We had a wonderful time and everyone seemed to enjoy the musical experience, teachers, children, presidency, and myself.
When I was twenty-two years old I became President of the Eleventh Ward Primary. Norma Gale, Arva Rowley and Sylvia Carter were counselors to me at various times. Elva Brailsford was the Secretary and she was very good. Bishop Harrison Scott was the Priesthood leader who extended the call to me.
I was very young to be the President of such a high and holy organization and first class effort, on my behalf, was put forth in the work. We loved one another as a Presidency and worked so hard together. The monthly Stake Primary Meetings were a source of uplift and help to our ward. We challenged to the teachers to have one hundred percent attendance at next Stake Meetings. The teachers did their best to support us and the attendance was always very high, but it seemed someone was always missing at the meetings. Finally, we promised the dear ones that we, the Presidency, would make Cream Puffs as a treat for their valance and effort in all being at the next stake meeting..
Our teachers gave great effort and sincerely tried. In the month of February we lacked two teachers, one was sick and the other had a sick child. Finally, in the month of March we reached our goal and every one of our wonderful instructors was at the West Utah Stake Meeting. We were all very pleased and proud and had such a good time in reaching our goal.
The following week the Presidency all went to Norma Gale’s home and made the treats. The following Primary day, wondrous big Cream Puffs filled with vanilla pudding and topped with luscious hot caramel topping was given to the teachers. We served it to our darling sisters during Prayer meeting. In my book, that is a Devine tasty treat and the sisters were touched and grateful.
I think I served for three years and I was released to get our new baby, Wesley Sowards. We built our new red brick home on the Grandview Hill in Provo, Utah in 1957. And of course, I began to serve in the Primary as soon as we moved into our home. I was called again as a Chorister. But this time I knew how to lead music and I hit the ground running. We had so very much fun and the kids did not have a choice, but to sing and sing we did. Brad Wilcox quoted me in his adult years. “Sister Johnson told use the Lord gave a us a voice to sing with. Now, you open your mouth and you come out with beautiful music. And, we did just that,” he quoted.
Our Primary was preparing the Primary Sacrament Program and we were practicing in the chapel of our ward house. I had done some fun changes to the way we presented the songs and the children were really putting forth effort and having a great time. Some stake personnel heard us practice and asked our ward to present the music at the next stake meeting so the wards could get new ideal for their individual ward presentations. Our ward Primary followed the stakes wishes. The Presidency and teachers helped in the endeavor and we had a great, fun experience.
One calling in the Primary that was especially dear to me was to teach the nine year old Blazer Boys class. I taught them for seven straight years. I even arranged my classed at the Brigham Young University so I could continue teaching the Blazers. One year I had thirteen Blazer boys in my class. Our son Kerry Ray was one of those boys and he was a joy to have in that group. The West Utah Stake leaders told our Seventeenth Ward Presidency that thirteen nine year
old boys was too many boys in one class.
The Presidency came me and wanted to know which boys I wanted to keep in my class. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. We had no problems in the class room and the boys were so darn good and learning. We loved one another and there were no problems at all. My reply to the Presidency, “You are not going to divide my boys. I love them all and we are having no problems. So, you stop worrying about us!” That was the last I heard about the situation.
Oh, it did filter back to me the Stake said “Well, Arleen Johnson can teach thirteen boys, but other classes in the stake must not be that large.”
Another wonderful experience I had with my thirteen boys was concerning Hoskie Upshaw. Hoskie was a Navaho Limonite boy Glen and Elaine Ellis had in their home through the Limonite Exchange Program. As the class began in the fall, I realized I was not reaching Hoskie. Now don’t get me wrong, he was no discipline problem nor did he cause any trouble. He just looked around the room and stared into space and I could not seem to touch his soul.
I began to pray over the problem and ask the Lord for help. The answer came to me. The boys needed some hands on activity. We took the Articles of Faith cards and put a plastic cover over the front so the card would stay clean as the boys studied and handled that important piece of paper. Next holes were punched around the edge of the two layers at a distance of one inch apart. Plastic boondoggle strings were then twined between the holes going in each direction.
That activity was the very thing that healed the problem. Hoskies fingers moved rapidly and fluently along the edges. His card looked smooth and beautiful. He then turned to the other members of the class. He helped and gave assistance to the boys who were struggling and the twine kept tangling as they worked. Hoskie was completely engrossed and had a marvelous time assisting others. He was quiet and kind and efficient.
That activity performed a miracle. It brought Hoskie out of his shell and he became an active part of our class. What a miraculous experience. I was so glad Hoskie was such an important part of our class and we all loved and respected him. Thanks be to God for small wonders performed in our behalf.
At one point in my primary life, I came to realize I had spent twenty-five years working in the Primary organization. It must truthfully be admitted, the gain from my Primary experience was much greater on my end of the deal. What a true blessing in my life. Thanks be to God.
PRAYER
All of us like to talk over our problems or troubles, our joys and our happiness with other people. When we want to tell our friends something we ride our bike to their house, or we call them on the telephone, or go over to their house. We can also talk to them as we walk home from school. If we want to talk to our mother, we go into the bedroom where she is making
the bed, or into the kitchen where she is making cookies, or some other job and we visit with her. And, should we want to ask for our grandparents advise ,we write a letter or telephone, or go to visit them.
When we want to talk a problem over with our Heavenly Father, we kneel and say our prayers. We talk to him in our individual prayers at night before we get into bed, or we can pray in our hearts wherever we may be. We also pray in our Primary, Sunday School, and Sacrament meetings. We can even pray and tell our needs to our Heavenly Father in His most holy house, the temple.
In the temple there is a very special prayer. It is called a prayer roll. The prayer roll contains the names of people who are “sick or otherwise afflicted.” During the session the faith and prayers of the brothers and sisters in the session are united for those names on the prayer rolls.
What a wonderful blessing to be able to have a prayer said for you in the temple of the Lord. All you have to do to get your name on the prayer rolls, is to call the temple on the telephone and ask them to put a name on the roll. When adults go to the temple, they are also free to write a name on the prayer roll.
I want to share, my testimony with you to the value of prayer in the temple. Glena Ekker, my niece was born into the world very crippled. Her hands were joined backward at the wrist. Instead of her fingers extending straight out from her hand as yours and mine do, they turned back toward her elbows. She could not hold a glass of water or write with a pencil as you and I can.
To make things even worse her legs, her legs were also deformed. The bones of her legs were permanently shaped in a cross like your legs are as you cross your legs and sit Indian-style. Your legs straighten out when you stand up, but her leg bones were deformed and she would never walk the way they were.
So, when Glena was three weeks old she had a heavy cast from the waist down to her toes. Also, both arms were in casts. She went through surgery, after surgery and cast after cast. She spent so many months in the Primary Childrens Hospital that she knew the nurses on her floor by their first name. The little girl suffered great pain and laid in a hospital bed until she wore all the hair off the back of her head.
When she was five years and time to start school, Glena was still in a cast and could not walk, her mother, Cula Ekker, carried Glena to school or her younger brother, Alfred, pushed her to school in a cart. Finally, when Glena was six years old, she walked for the first time. She wore metal braces that came up to the tops of legs. Cula put heavy flower pots filled with dirt and flowers in a doll buggy to weight it down and steady the little a buggy. Holding to the handle of the buggy, Glena was then able to take a few steps. True it was only a few steps, but she walked. Glena was so proud when she demonstrated her new found skill to us, and to be sure we
were all very thrilled. Our beautiful Glena was walking.
When Glena was about sixteen years old, the doctor discovered that Glena’s hip joints were badly damaged and that surgery must be performed on the hip bones. It was to be a very serious operation and if the operation was not successful, Glena would never walk again. This was a very serious time for Glena. With surgery she may be confined to a wheel chair the rest
of her life and yet, without surgery she would not be able to continue walking.
We desperately needed the help of the Lord in a big way. Our family went to the Lord in prayer and it was decided to put Glena’s name on the prayer roll of the temple. We felt we needed extra help.
Glena entered the L. D. S. Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah, the day preceding the surgery. The condition was so critical Dr. Clegg wanted one last look at the hip problem to make sure his plans were the right thing to do. The x-rays proved there was no problem at all with the hips. The bones that had been so out of place before, were perfectly in line now and no surgery was needed on the hips. Dr. Clegg operated on her hands instead and a few days later, Glena walked out of the hospital.
I believe the faith and prayers of those in the temple and of our families brought about this modern miracle of that day.
As the years went by, Glena went through more than forty-five operations to straighten her twisted arms and legs. She was not ever able to walk up steps, or stand up out of a chair alone, or dress herself alone. However, she could walk by herself on level ground and that is tremendous asset and blessing.
the bed, or into the kitchen where she is making cookies, or some other job and we visit with her. And, should we want to ask for our grandparents advise ,we write a letter or telephone, or go to visit them.
When we want to talk a problem over with our Heavenly Father, we kneel and say our prayers. We talk to him in our individual prayers at night before we get into bed, or we can pray in our hearts wherever we may be. We also pray in our Primary, Sunday School, and Sacrament meetings. We can even pray and tell our needs to our Heavenly Father in His most holy house, the temple.
In the temple there is a very special prayer. It is called a prayer roll. The prayer roll contains the names of people who are “sick or otherwise afflicted.” During the session the faith and prayers of the brothers and sisters in the session are united for those names on the prayer rolls.
What a wonderful blessing to be able to have a prayer said for you in the temple of the Lord. All you have to do to get your name on the prayer rolls, is to call the temple on the telephone and ask them to put a name on the roll. When adults go to the temple, they are also free to write a name on the prayer roll.
I want to share, my testimony with you to the value of prayer in the temple. Glena Ekker, my niece was born into the world very crippled. Her hands were joined backward at the wrist. Instead of her fingers extending straight out from her hand as yours and mine do, they turned back toward her elbows. She could not hold a glass of water or write with a pencil as you and I can.
To make things even worse her legs, her legs were also deformed. The bones of her legs were permanently shaped in a cross like your legs are as you cross your legs and sit Indian-style. Your legs straighten out when you stand up, but her leg bones were deformed and she would never walk the way they were.
So, when Glena was three weeks old she had a heavy cast from the waist down to her toes. Also, both arms were in casts. She went through surgery, after surgery and cast after cast. She spent so many months in the Primary Childrens Hospital that she knew the nurses on her floor by their first name. The little girl suffered great pain and laid in a hospital bed until she wore all the hair off the back of her head.
When she was five years and time to start school, Glena was still in a cast and could not walk, her mother, Cula Ekker, carried Glena to school or her younger brother, Alfred, pushed her to school in a cart. Finally, when Glena was six years old, she walked for the first time. She wore metal braces that came up to the tops of legs. Cula put heavy flower pots filled with dirt and flowers in a doll buggy to weight it down and steady the little a buggy. Holding to the handle of the buggy, Glena was then able to take a few steps. True it was only a few steps, but she walked. Glena was so proud when she demonstrated her new found skill to us, and to be sure we
were all very thrilled. Our beautiful Glena was walking.
When Glena was about sixteen years old, the doctor discovered that Glena’s hip joints were badly damaged and that surgery must be performed on the hip bones. It was to be a very serious operation and if the operation was not successful, Glena would never walk again. This was a very serious time for Glena. With surgery she may be confined to a wheel chair the rest
of her life and yet, without surgery she would not be able to continue walking.
We desperately needed the help of the Lord in a big way. Our family went to the Lord in prayer and it was decided to put Glena’s name on the prayer roll of the temple. We felt we needed extra help.
Glena entered the L. D. S. Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah, the day preceding the surgery. The condition was so critical Dr. Clegg wanted one last look at the hip problem to make sure his plans were the right thing to do. The x-rays proved there was no problem at all with the hips. The bones that had been so out of place before, were perfectly in line now and no surgery was needed on the hips. Dr. Clegg operated on her hands instead and a few days later, Glena walked out of the hospital.
I believe the faith and prayers of those in the temple and of our families brought about this modern miracle of that day.
As the years went by, Glena went through more than forty-five operations to straighten her twisted arms and legs. She was not ever able to walk up steps, or stand up out of a chair alone, or dress herself alone. However, she could walk by herself on level ground and that is tremendous asset and blessing.
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