Happy 75th Birthday Dad!!!

I would like to share 3 important things that my dad taught me.

1.     Hard Work

My Dad just loves to work. If you know him, you know what I’m talking about. Well, honestly I don’t know that he loves it all the time, but he does it regardless of love, or praise. He does it just kuz it needs to be done.

When I was young he worked at a full time job, that he had to drive 2 ½ hours to then he’d come home and run our 600 acre farm. There was always work for us to do. The work never ended and we were always behind. Whenever we would finish one thing there were always ten more jobs waiting to be done. 

I remember on several Saturday mornings he would wake Bryan and me around 4:30 a.m. and our day of work would begin. When he woke us up that early sometimes we would complain about how early it was. He would inform us that he let us sleep in, and that he had started working at 3:30 a.m.. We would come back in the house about 8 and make a big breakfast for the family. I’d eat till I thought I’d burst then turn around and get back to work.  

In my youth, every Saturday for as long as I can remember, I worked with my dad. There was never a need to hire someone out to do the work - no matter what it was- Dad could always find a way or figure out how we could do it ourselves. (He is the original MacGyver.) I remember one Saturday replacing the cracked head on the old Case tractor as we listened to conference on AM radio. The talks would fade in and out of static as we worked. That task to me seemed impossible but we did it, and it worked. 

Most men would hire out a backhoe when the cesspool needed to be cleaned out. It was very nasty, full and deep. Why do that when you have rubber boots, 2 boys and 5 gal buckets? Yep that’s right we bucketed out that cesspool - 5 gallons at a time. I will never forget the feeling of the ooze running down my arm, under my armpit and into my shirt as I stood with a bucket full of unspeakable sludge lifted high over my head waiting for Bryan to reach down and take it to be dumped. 

All these memories bring me to lesson #2

2.     I Can Do It

Whenever I tried doing something that I didn't know how to do, my Dad would tell me “Think about it, step back and analyze it in your mind.  Take it one step at a time and be curious”. He lives by this statement and now so do I. To this day if I don’t know how to do something I learn how. I read about it, I find people that can teach me, I watch YouTube videos. And then I try. This lesson never made me an expert - really- at anything but it did show me that I could do what needs to be done. Above that, however, he knows his kids can do hard things. He doesn't “believe” we can do it. He simply knows we can, and that knowledge of his pushes us on as we have faith in his determination that we can do it.  

3.     Who God Is

The most important thing my Dad ever taught me was who God is, and how a man of God honors him. I believe that on that “Great and Terrible Day of Judgment” when we stand before God He will be more concerned with how far we traveled on our path toward Him rather than how far up the social, economic, or even the religious ladder we have climbed. It won’t be so much the dollars we gave or the positions we held that will be of any true worth. I believe that the length of our travel will be representative of how hard we have sought the Lord out in this life. If this is so, then, my Dad is a master traveler on this path I have referred to. 

He taught me this principle as I watched how he grew in his testimony and his constant desire for betterment of self. How he always made sure our family was taken care of. How he taught me about prayer, how he prayed for me, and how he prayed with me. He made me work with my hands and showed me that I could do anything that I put my mind to. He lived the word of God as best he could on a daily basis. He taught me how to meekly seek forgiveness when I mess up or when I go astray. He showed me who God is by his actions. He loves Heavenly Father.  He loves His teachings, his scriptures and he loves His prophets.  He showed me daily by his example, he loves God right in front of my eyes.

Happy 75^th Birthday Dad, I love you.

Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6

I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father; and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days; yea, having had a great knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God, therefore I make a record of my proceedings in my days.

(Book of Mormon | 1 Nephi 1:1)

 10-23-14

Hardships make us if they don’t break us.

The first winter on the farm in Idaho in January of 1980 the water froze and froze hard. We got our water from a mountain spring that was just at the foot of the mountain about a quarter mile behind our house. The pipe that carried the water from the spring to the house was buried about 4ft deep. It had started to leak and the severe cold found its way down to the ,main water line and froze it. There was no chance for repair till late spring when the ground had unfrozen. The line would then have to be dug up and replaced. So our house just didn’t have any water. I’m telling you it was cold back then and record snow fall too.

The rancher that had a cattle feed lot next door said we could get water from the stock tank that the cows used. The water ran all the time and from the tap it was very clean. We would load up the tractor with grandpa’s old “Diamond T” flatbed trailer with all the old milk cans and 50 gal drums we had. We would fill all the milk cans from the tap that never stopped flowing that fresh mountain spring water. This was our drinking and cooking water. But it took too long to wait to fill everything that way. So we would break the ice and scoop up in 5 gal buckets of water from the trough for bathing, washing and flushing the toilet. We would then drive the tractor back to the house and unload as much as we could onto the back porch. Then every day we would chip through the ice to get the water we needed. We only flushed the toilet about once a day. The old adage “if its yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down” really meant something then. Baths were Saturday night in preparation for church on Sunday. The smallest would go first it seemed like, and would receive one large canning pot of hot water. The next child would go and a fresh pot would be added to the tub and so on. I remember looking down at the tub after mom had just added a fresh pot of hot water for me to the now half full tub, there was moss from the cattle trough floating in the dark gray water and I thought to myself “how can this dirty water get me clean?” but after a week of no bathing I really didn't even care. Truth be told it felt soooo good and I did feel better maybe even slightly cleaner after. Spring finally came and dad rented a trencher and a new line was installed to the house and water returned.

This taught us to be thankful for the things in our life that we normally take for granted. This was a hard time but we pulled together and made it through “none the worse for the wear.”

Remember Case family rule #1 Life’s hard but I’m tough!!

10? Things I want my kids to know (Part 4)

By Bishop H. David Burton

Presiding Bishop

8.       Journal; Write down your personal best and worst. Spiritual highs and lows. Although I have not done the best at this I have written some and hopefully continue to improve. I remember watching the movie”Ephraim's Rescue” at the end; they gave an account of all of the main characters. One lady it just said that all that was known about her was that she attended a sealing in Salt Lake City some time later after making the trek to Salt Lake City with a hand cart. What a shame that her story is lost. I’d assume because of the lack of keeping a journal (although I don’t know for sure) I have heard that if you don’t write your history that within 3 generations you are lost and forgotten. More than all of that though, is that we can help and straighten those that come behind us. Help them overcome and persevere in their own life's struggles. Maybe lighten their day with a laugh or enlighten them to their own history. This goes with #7.

Alma 37:2,6 And I also command you that ye keep a record of this people, according as I have done, upon the plates of Nephi, and keep all these things sacred which I have kept, even as I have kept them; for it is for a wise purpose that they are kept…
6 Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass; and small means in many instances doth confound the wise.

3 Nephi 23:10-13 And his disciples answered him and said: Yea, Lord, Samuel did prophesy according to thy words, and they were all fulfilled.
11 And Jesus said unto them: How be it that ye have not ^awritten this thing, that many ^bsaints did arise and appear unto many and did minister unto them?
12 And it came to pass that Nephi remembered that this thing had not been written.
13 And it came to pass that Jesus commanded that it should be ^awritten; therefore it was written according as he commanded.

As we can see from this account in the scriptures we may be held accountable for not passing on the stories that we have been given. Here they stood before Christ and were asked for a reason why they had not written it down and had to answer face to face.

President Spencer W. Kimball gave this counsel: “Every person should keep a journal and every person can keep a journal. It should be an enlightening one and should bring great blessings and happiness to the families. If there is anyone here who isn’t doing so, will you repent today and change—change your life?” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1979, p. 117; or Ensign, May 1979, p. 84).

Brent and Shane Fruita CO

9       Hard work is a gift; Life wasn’t meant to be easy we have to work for anything worth having. 

I want you to know that there is real value and meaning in work. I want you to know that anything worth having is worth working for, and work will be the major part of obtaining it.

“The prophet Alma said it very well while glorying in the success of Ammon and his brethren. He said, “Behold, they have labored exceedingly.” (Alma 29:15.)That is a pure definition of work”.

“Striving for success without hard work is like trying to harvest where you haven't planted”

 I remember once when I was young I had a 1966 Ford Mustang. It was a sweet car to a young man, and I loved it. However it was an old car and it broke down all the time and I didn’t have any money to fix it. I would buy a book on how to fix it them read how to, and then try to do it myself as I couldn’t afford to pay to have it fixed. One time I had to rebuild the suspension and front end. It was very completed and took a long time. I didn’t have the right tools and had to make do with what I did have. I talked to men that knew how to do it and asked for their advice often. I would get frustrated wail working on it and have to walk away for awhile. Time and time again I would walk away frustrated and take a break from the struggle of learning something new. It took like a month to fix it and get it back on the road but, I did it. I still remember the un-replaceable feeling of having done something I felt was unachievable,  as I pull it back on the road and took off as fast as it would go. There is a feeling deep inside that you'll never get any other way.

My point is I could not and would not have had that feeling if it was fixed by someone else or if it had been easy, I would have never felt that. We only get that feeling of accomplishment when we have worked hard for it.

You’ll hear in this world that everyone is a winner and that no one looses. Everyone gets a blue ribbon at the end. What a load of crap!!! Even the small children know the true value without being told if they have worked hard and accomplished something or if they just showed up for the ribbon. Working hard is its own reward and we know this instinctively.

Grandpa Wright told me “The problem with doing nothing all day is, that you can’t take a break from it” The fastest days are always the ones in which I have been anxiously engaged all day Where as the slowest days are when there is little or nothing to do. Those “do nothing days” are relentlessly long and boring.

Ecclesiastes 3:13  And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the ^agift of God.

President David O. McKay said, "Let us realize that the privilege to work is a gift, that the power to work is a blessing, that love of work is success" (quoted by Franklin D. Richards, “The Gospel of Work,” Improvement Era, Dec. 1969, 101).

By Bishop H. David Burton

Presiding Bishop

Work is not a matter of economic need alone; it is a spiritual necessity. Our Father in Heaven works to bring about our salvation and exaltation (see Moses 1:39). And, beginning with Adam, He has commanded us to work. Even in the Garden of Eden, Adam was instructed to “dress [till] it and keep it” (Genesis 2:15). After the Fall, Adam was told, “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread” (Genesis 3:19). As with any other commandment, there is joy in its keeping. To work—honestly and productively—brings contentment and a sense of self-worth. Having done all we can to be self-reliant, to provide for our own needs and those of our family, we can turn to the Lord in confidence to ask for what we might yet lack.s be the kind of men and women that are grateful for work and embrace all the good that comes to us through hard work.

10? Things I want my kids to know (Part 3)



Alma (Tam) Wright on his horse at Kolob Utah

Lewis Martin Hodgkinson

7.     You come from a long line of great men and women and you are who you are in no small part because of them. Just think if you had a different grandfather you would be 1/8^th different than you are now. It was rumored that your great, great grandpa cut his toe off and just wrapped his toe up stuck his boot on and went back to work. He didn’t take his boot back off some time after that even sleeping in his boot. He just kept doing what he needed to do. His DNA is part of you. Also in the book From Tabernacle to Temple – the Story of the Vernal Utah Temple (ISBN 0-9665966-C-9) on page 22 William and Hephzibeh are mentioned in conjunction with a visit from the President of the Church, Joseph F. Smith for the dedication of the Uintah Stake Tabernacle. He tells that your 3rd great grandfather saved him from an angry mob and wanted to visit his family to tell them the story.  I can see parts of them in each of you.



Garrett Case Family

 



Maria Jackson Normington Parker

Thomas and Maria Jackson Normington were converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Burnley, Lancashire, England. They had three daughters and a year old son, having had two boys and their oldest daughter die there in England. They worked and saved money to immigrate to Zion. Finally, the sailed on the vessel, “Horizon” from Liverpool on May 22, 1856 with two of Maria’s brothers who had also joined the church. The ship reached Boston, Massachusetts six weeks later, on June 30 and the arrived in Iowa City, Iowa on July 8, 1856. The Normingtons learned that there had been so many converts preparing to cross the plains to Salt Lake City that all the handcarts were being used by earlier companies, so more carts had to be hastily constructed and all that was available was green wood. Precious time was lost making the handcarts, which should have been spent in traveling, and many provisions were used which should have been for their journey. At last, on July 28, 1856, the Martin Handcart company started westward. In spite of the lateness of the season and the advice of those in charge at Winter Questers, the leaders decided the company should leave. In their desire to go to Zion, the overlooked the fact that God moves in natural ways and expects us to respect natural laws. It was the fifth handcart company to leave that season and consisted of 576 person, 146 handcarts, 7 wagons, 6 mules, 50 cows and beef cattle. Usually the man would pull the handcart and his wife and children push or walked alongside. Thus, Maria and her family traveled the first lap of the journey, 300 miles to Florence, Nebraska, where they arrived August 11, 1856. At Florence, Nebraska the two sections of the Martin Handcart Company were consolidated into one as a protection against the Indians in crossing the mountains and plains, and on August 25th, the company rolled out of Florence. They reached Fort Laramie six weeks later in October, and were told Salt Lake was just two weeks away. Perhaps they would have made it to the Sale Lake valley before the sons but there were numerous delays. That hastily made handcarts and the use of the green wood combined to make the carts break down frequently resulting in a costly loss of time and provision. Maria and Thomas were expecting their eighth child in about three months but things hadn’t been overly difficult. Their three little girls and boy toddler were happy and she has a good singer with a jolly, cheerful disposition. Her favorite song was “Come, Come, Ye Saints” and it was a great comfort to sing as they pushed and pulled the cart. Each adult received a ration of one pound of flour a day, but even so there were still hungry, so when they reached Fort Laramie, they were glad to exchange their watches and other valuables for extra food. Maria and the other pioneer women were well organized and would have dinner ready a half hour after camp was made for the night. They made biscuits on the way by mixing soda with a cup of sour milk, pouring it into the top of the flour sack, adding a pinch of salt and quickly shaping biscuits which were cooked as soon as they stopped. Soon however, the flour rations had to be cut to ¾ a pound a day, later to ½ pound, and still alter to less and finally no flour at all. Still the company toiled cheerfully on. They were becoming weak from fatigue and lack of food. So it was with heavy hearts that any extra things from the handcarts were cached or simply abandoned along the road. Extra bedding, carefully guarded heirlooms, personal treasures, all were left behind to lighten the loads, but still, with rivers to ford and an early winter sapping their energy, progress was slow. Maria and Thomas’ little boy, about eighteen months old, dies, and she was permitted to ride half a day in a wagon with his little body until camp was made and he was buried. Soon after, Maria gave birth to a new baby boy, who soon died. On the morning of October 19, they awoke to a raging snowstorm. Already their beds were covered with four inches of snow. They were camped by the Platte River and had to cross it before the storm grew worse. The river was wagon-bed deep, and the men carried the children and those women who were too ill across, but most of the women tied up their long skirts and waded across. The storm continued for several days until the snow was fifteen inches deep on the level, but still they struggled on, strong in their faith and their hopes for a new life in Zion. Probably as a result of the exposure from the storm and freezing cold of the river fording, cholera broke out among the starving, suffering camp and one night Maria’s husband, Thomas, and sixteen other died and were buried in a common grave. A friend of the Normington family, James Bleak became so ill from the cholera that his family thought he was dying, and since the company had to move on, they wrapped him in a blanket and left him to die on the prairie. That evening when they camped for the night, Maria went to ask how their friend, James Bleak was feeling. When Mrs. Bleak told her they had left him back on the trail to die. Marie told her she should not have permitted him to be left because he had been promised in England by the gift of tongues that he should reach Zion in peace and safety. Maria then took her handcart and went back on the trail until she found him and brought him back to the camp, helping bring him back to health. James Bleak did live to reach Zion and became secretary to President Brigham Young. Their clothing and shoes were worn out. They had very little bedding and practically no food. Maria saved what food she had for the three little girls and she tried to eat dirt to satisfy the hunger pangs. She walked until her feet were so frozen and sore she could walk no more. Then she crawled along on her hands and knees, and when her hands were so frozen she could use them no more, she went on her knees and elbows. Years later, at the time of her death, there were great scares on them from this awful experience. Maria was so overcome with hardships, starvation and grief that when the relief wagons came, she was unconscious and remembered nothing of the last part of the journey. A company of missionaries, returning to Salt Lake City on October 4th, had reported the terrible conditions of the handcart company they had passed. Conference, which was in session, was adjourned and president Young called for 20 teams, loaded with provision, to leave the next day to meet the emigrants. John Parker furnished one team and wagon loaded with provisions, and his son William Parker drove the team. It was into this wagon that Maria and her three little girls were placed. On Monday, November 30, 1856, the weary survivors reached Salt Lake City more than four months after they started. Only about 300 of the original 567 reached the valley. Some turned back, but most died of privation along the trail. Maria and her children were taken to the home of John parker and nursed until she recovered, after which she helped with the house and farm work at the Parker farm near Taylorsville. She was sealed in the Endowment House to her dead husband, Thomas Normington and in 1857 married John Parker as a plural wife. Six years later, John Parker and his three families were called on a mission to southern Utah to raise cotton, fruit, etc. They left their comfortable homes again and moved their cattle and sheep to help build up and redeem a rough, desolate wasteland. At first, Maria lived in a “dugout” and later in a log house. She was thrifty and industrious, washing and scouring wool from their sheep, carding and dying it with dock roots or adder, then weaving it into cloth for their dresses and suits, which she also made. She sewed, knitted, tatted, and netted, making the most of she had, and was soon comfortable in their home. Maria was never heard to censure anyone for her trials, nor complain because her lot was hard. She was cheerful and faithful throughout her life and felt that the gospel of Jesus Christ, for which she had endures so much, was the most glorious of all blessings. Her family said her prayers reflected her great faith as she seemed to actually see and talk with her Father in Heaven as she expressed her gratitude and asked for the blessings they needed. She died in Virgin City, Washing County on March, 18, 1881.

Side note: One time on the farm when grandpa Case (far right in the 3rd picture) was visiting us and was helping me move the 4” sprinkler lines that kept our crops watered and growing. We had just turned on one of the sprinkler line after we had moved it and watched to make sure that the line had come to full pressure insuring that the job was done and all was well. We heard the distinctive clang as the pipe hit full pressure and all the sprinkler heads sprung into full production. (No greater sight for a farm boy in summer than a sprinkler line at full pressure after having just moving it) Satisfied that our work on this line was done I turned for his old red Chevy truck and met the soul searching gaze of my grandfather. He was just standing there looking at me, muddy and covered in sweat. It was getting a little uncomfortable, then with an intense look he said, “I’ve given your dad a good name and he has taken good care of it. He has given that name to you. What do you plan to do with it?” This has stuck with me throughout my life, sometimes it condemns me when I should have done better and other times it lifts me as I have done my best. Like it or not, we carry this name that has been defended and built up by all those that have come before us and we should do our best to honor it in our words and deeds.

My "I Remember" letter to Mom for mothers day 1994

Mom,

                I know this is a little late but this is your Mother’s day present.  I’ll call this my “I Remember” letter.  It does have a string attached.  I would like you to write me a “I Remember” letter in return.

I remember when I was 4 or 5 Dad grounded me for a week to the house.  I was to stay inside for a whole week “no playing outside”.  After the second or third day you told me I could go out and play while Dad was gone to work as long as we didn’t tell.  At the time I thought you were rewarding me for being such a GOOD boy the days I had stayed in, but now looking back I think you probably just needed a break from my punishment.

I remember when we were bringing the pony up from the pasture.   He didn’t want to leave his girlfriend Taffy our other horse. So Dad had to lead him, with me riding on his back to the house.  When we got to the house with the hay field between us and the pasture where we kept the horses, dad gave me the reigns and the pony took off, returning to his friend.  I’ve never gone so fast.  He was running so fast when I opened my mouth to yell nothing came out because of all the air rushing in.  My heart was leaping out of my chest. I was scared for my life and thought it was surly my time to die.  I was trying not to tinkle in my pants, all in a panic holding on for dear life.  In a desperate attempt to save my life I looked to my parents for help.  There was my Mom jumping up and down like a cheerleader yelling and clapping your hands, “Yaa hoo! Ride ‘em cowboy…Yeah” and Dad was yelling, “Drop and roll! Drop and roll!”

I remember the time we went to Malad looking for shoes.  I had just realized what girls were and there was one hum dinger of a cutie running the till in the store.  While you were busy looking at shoes I was strutting my stuff by the men’s brief’s section.  Now she was quite a bit older than me but I didn’t back down.  I was laying it on (as best as a fourteen boy can).  I was just about ready to give her the look!...when you stood up with a pair of black converse sneakers and said, “Brent I found some CHEEP ones.”  I tried to look around as if to see who that strange woman might be talking to.  But alas, I was the only one there.  What was to be the start of something beautiful between her and me was now just a sneaker sale.

I remember when Bryan was chasing me through the house with a hobby knife.  Somewhere in the chase the protective cover fell off. When I stopped suddenly Bryan ran into me and stabbed me in the back. YES you just read that right my brother stabbed me. Once again the veil went thin or at least I thought it should have by the look on Bryan’s face. He ran and got you. After you had assessed the situation you determined that it might need stitches but that we were not going to tell the doctor (or anyone for that matter) that your sons had stabbed one another. After all, what would people think? So all the way into town we were lectured on why it was important to keep this just between us. You dropped us off at the library while you went to the drug store to get some butterfly bandages. We left the library and started to walk over to the drug store when the first person we saw from across the road and a block down the street, shouted, “Hey, Bryan, I heard you stabbed your brother.”

I remember at our wrestling matches how loudly you would cheer for us when we more on top of our opponent. I could hear your voice above everyone cheering me on, “Get him! Get him, Brent!” and when they were getting the better of me it was, “Don’t you hurt my boy!”

I remember the time you rolled the car on the way to one of my free style wrestling matches. We were rushing down the hill by Bloxham’s farm. The road was slushy with snow and ice. The car lost control going down the hill at the curve we slid sideways hit the snow bank and rolled over and over into the snow.  I grabbed hold firmly planted in my seat and terror shot through me followed by great joy and happiness, for in the vanity mirror on my visor I saw my two younger sisters Jolene and Denise and my younger brother, Darrin being tossed around like rag dolls in a big dryer. Now I am thankful no one was hurt to bad, but I’m most thankful for the look on their faces as the car rolled over and over. To an older brother that loved to torment his younger siblings, that was truly a beautiful sight. J

I remember when I wrecked your car.  I was out on a date and had chosen to take the scenic way home through the canyon where you could stop and enjoy the stars.  When we were leaving, it had started to snow quite heavily and the roads were slick.  I remember turning the wheel but the car went straight…right off a cliff.  This was the first time in my 17 years that I thought I was going to die. (Now for me to say that means something kuz I had been in numberless life threatening situations before)  The car came to a rest upside down in a creek about 30 ft. down.  The girl I was with had a broken nose, puncture wounds in her leg, and was scraped up pretty badly.  I had a broken collar bone and was already blushing from the guff I would have to take Monday at school for taking my girl up the canyon.  We walked out two miles to a house in the storm with no coats.  When I called you the phones weren’t working very well and I couldn’t hear you.  So I just told you that I had wrecked the car and to meet me at the emergency room.  I’m not sure how you got into town because that car was our main transportation and the storm was getting worse.  I remember pulling into the hospital parking lot.  There you were standing under the light at the emergency entrance, arms folded, tapping your toes with a grim look on your face.  I knew I was in bad trouble.  I got out of the car and headed toward you…maybe limping a little more than I had to.  The grim look melted away into a loving concern.  I learned two very important things that night: 1. Your Love for me was unconditional and 2.  Never take your date up a snow packed winding canyon road if you don’t have to…No, but really, number 2. The importance of Prayer!

I remember you always slipping me a buck or two my last year of school whether I was rich that day or poor.  i knew you didn't have any extra money. I asked you once why you did that when you knew I had enough of my own.  You said, “This time in your life will probably be the most remembered. I just want to help”.  That one or two dollars may have only seemed to have bought cinnamon rolls and a pop at Flags West truck stop but in my heart there is a debt of gratitude that I can never repay.   THANKS!!!

P.S.  I also remember on our farm, plucking chickens, gathering eggs, our big garden, selling corn from our field, riding my bike everywhere, Jolene hanging from the roof gutter, scraping pigs, milking cows, taking the big German shepherd dog to the pound, breaking Shetland ponies, you as my cub scouts leader, building the addition to the house and dad throwing the hammer to you and you closing your eyes and catching it on your head, moving to Idaho, snakes, snow drifts, clinkers, the Honda 70, running us all over like a taxi, crying at the end of “Old Yeller” and “Where the Red Fern Grows”.  Endless hugs, kisses on scrapes and bruises, moving sprinkler pipes, more crying over books & movies, you taking over when dad was gone on T.D.Y. your help with my boys at there births, endless little league, piano lessons, signing lessons, sports, taking me back when I was like5 years old to return a stolen gun and making me talk to the manager and apologize, staying up late to hear about my dates or other activities, horse drawn sleigh rides at Christmas to go caroling, Burned offerings and wonderful feasts for dinner, and me burning our haystacks and out buildings down.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY-MAY 1994