Pioneer Face

A couple of months ago, Trent and I had a little weekend getaway.  As we were driving around the city, we stopped in at a historical society museum and looked around.  I've always been drawn to old things and historical stories, so I could have easily spent several days there.  On every wall hung portraits of people long since gone.  Posed family portraits, individual faces mounted behind rounded glass, formal wedding pictures, stiff groupings of social events...  The old photography rendered their bodies still and their faces grim.  Rarely did I see even a flicker of a smile.  

I wonder who these people are, and what the occasion was for them to have a formal portrait taken.  Was it in joyous celebration of a life event?  A memento for a too-distant loved one?   I'm sure their expressions wouldn't have always looked so grim, but that's how I always see them portrayed.

I know some of their stories, and I've read of hardships that my own ancestors faced.  It seems, in the histories, that they often went from one trial to the next.  Tranquility doesn't make good plotlines.   I'm sure they triumphed, and rejoiced, and had happy times - I wish I knew more about those.

Late at night, I often feel like I have pioneer face.  It's harder to feel happy when I am tired, and my challenges seem to grow ten sizes after the sun sets.  Maybe when I feel my mouth fix into a grim line, and my eyes start to stare coldly, I'll have to imagine a pioneer party.  They made it through their trials - so can I!

This is my ancestor Eunice Reasor Brown, born in Kentucky in 1808.  She birthed nine children, buried a two-year-old and a three-year-old, and adopted a Native American boy who was sold to her by his family.  She accompanied her husband in an army battalion during the Mexican War, and helped him build a new city out of arid nothingness.  She accomplished so much in her 50 years - so can I!

The House That Bert Built

Grandma took us to see her childhood home.  If I have the story straight, her parents purchased 6 lots in town - not quite half an acre.  At first they lived on a little house on the back corner, by the alleyway.  I'm not sure if that house was there when they bought the property, or if they built it.  But they lived there while Wilbert (he went by Bert)  built the new house.

It was during World War II, and building materials were scarce.  To save on lumber, the ceilings are only seven feet tall.  The shorter height was not a problem, because neither Bert nor Ruby were tall people.  The little house was nearly 800 square feet, and had two bedrooms and a bath, a living room and a kitchen.  Down a narrow flight of stairs was a wash room, space to store the food Ruby bottled, and a wood shop where Bert worked, stored his tools, and turned wooden bowls.  The house was finished in 1939.

Bert and Ruby had four girls and a boy, and they all lived cozily in the home they called the Cleveland House.  The four girls shared the upstairs bedroom, and the son slept in a little corner of the basement.

In the ample lot, the family grew an abundant garden, fruit trees, roses, and lilac bushes.  It was a lovely place to raise children.  They learned how to work hard and be thrifty.

We stayed at cousin Lynn's house, and she showed us some pictures of her and her mother (Grandma's oldest sister) in front of the house.  This was in the early 50's, maybe?

Bert was a photographer, and took many pictures and portraits of his little family.  I'm sure there are some pictures of the Cleveland House with Ruby and the children.  I'd like to find some.  For now, I have this picture of two of the nicest ladies in the state - Grandma and Cousin Lynn - in front of the cutest little house I'd love to buy if I had a whole bunch fewer children!

Happy Heats Day

I've been helping my dad go through the boxes in my mother's office.  Right now, we are sorting out boxes of random family memorabilia.  I found a love letter my Opa wrote to my Oma when they had been married for 40 years.  My dad's dad, a native of Rostock Germany, was on an LDS mission in another area in Germany when he met his future wife.  Per mission standards, missionaries aren't allowed to date or cavort (what a great word!) with members of the opposite sex, but that didn't stop him from falling head over heels in love with this pretty girl.

Before he was finished with his mission, she left for America, and he followed after her as quickly as he could.  They were married in New York as soon as he arrived.  To honor their German heritage, we called them Opa and Oma.  I love how in love he was, and the tender way he tells their story.  (All spelling and punctuation is in the original)

Fourty Years Ago

I could not say: "I love You,"

   I could not ask: "Do You?"

   Nor place my arms around her

   Or touch her lips - Would You?

I could not nest her head close,

   or softly stroke her hair

   I could not say sweet nothings

   Or snuggle close to her

I only could do dreaming,

   Could only look afar.

   I only could Keep hoping

   To hold what I but saw

I only could be looking

   And squeeze her hand awhile

   I only could be near her

   To share her girlish smile

Mine was a higher calling

   To serve the Lord of Old

   Mine was to love God's children

   And lead them to the fold.

My life was secondary

   My mission was at hand

   My calling was to wander

   Wherever I was sent.

I longed for just the moment

   A chance for which I'd prayed.

   I longed to vent my passion

   But not from right be swayed.

I longed to know her feelings - 

   But at the proper place.

   I longed to plan my future

   But not my life efface.

My prayers, I'm sure were answered,

   The day arrived at last

   My prayers walked right beside me

   When I her hand held fast.

It was a small Branch outing

   For all, the young and old

   We wandered through the mountains

   And soon we found our mold.

My heart beat loud and heaving,

   My thoughts could not be hid.

   At last a burst of sighing

   Gave voice to feelings deep.

I asked: "Will you be willing

   To wait a year or two

   When I complete my mission

   And can return to you?"

My heart stood still, if wondering:

   "Was this the proper place?

   'mid pines and rocks and sunshine

   To start such noble race?"

But now my part was over.

   'twas now her turn to say.

   I'm sure she too was thinking:

   "Is there no other way?"

And true to girlish candor

   Her choice must yet be free - 

   She hedged - she squirmed - she halted

   But quietly lisped: "Maybe."

I did not then Knew women,

   I do not Know them now,

   But in my heart the answer

   Was clearly a loud "JA."

A tender bridge was a-building

   Between two different souls.

   But time has added firmness,

   Part by the furnace coal.

This little tale was simple,

   But out of it grew a tree

   The fruits of which are pleasant

   As anyone can see

In time we knelt together

   Around the altar free

   To be as one, united

   For all eternity

As children came to linger

   In our home awhile,

   They shared with us the blessings

   Which we felt in our soul.

Then one by one they entered

   One life's eternal way.

   They too found mates to cherish

   And tales they like to say.

We started out a two-some

   Were blessed with six souls more.

   They multiplied to twenty -

   Who knows the final score?

All this had it's beginning

   On the 26th of May,

   When two youths walked together

   Some fourty years ago.

To my eternal sweetheart

May 26, 1967