18 July 2009
Letters...
November 2001
Dear Family,
I have probably said this before, so either forgive me or chalk it up to ‘approaching the top of the hill’ time in my life. You are doing so well, trying so hard and succeeding. We love you so much.
The theme in primary this past year has been Follow the Prophet. I’ve watched and listened to mom all year long work to assist the ward primary leaders teach this to the children of the stake. This has been a worldwide effort, not just in our stake.
This is good council for all of us. For example: Do we have our pantries filled with sufficient food and staples? Are we out of debt, or striving to become so? Are our houses in order?
This has been on my mind, and I want to encourage and support you in your strivings. This morning my thinking was stirred again, after attending a meeting where we were told that there would not be the usual merit increase for this year. There will only be a 1% across the board compensation, to cover the increase in our insurance premiums.
It is clear that economy difficulties are a great concern to everyone, businesses and families alike. The Church is also affected because when people are out of work or have had pay cuts, donations from tithing decrease.
I have never known hard times; I mean real hard times. But because I have a testimony of the gospel, sustain the brethren and strive to keep my covenants, I do not fear. However, I don’t want to find myself falling prey to wandering a bit off path by becoming complacent in my staying close to and living the gospel. Do I tolerate or even embrace things I didn’t years ago? My film class has brought this vividly to mind. I remember the 1939 film Gone With the Wind ending with the line that included the word ‘damn’. It was a shock back then; it is nothing now.
I’m reminded of Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man where he says, in epistle 2, part V:
“Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.”
I pray we will continue to polish our testimonies, sustain the brethren and keep our covenants. I also pray our pantries will be full, we can get rid ourselves of debt, where possible, and otherwise have our houses in order.
I want to say, like mom’s dying great-grandfather said to his children, while crossing the plains, “Go on with the saints to the Salt Lake valley, stay close to the Church and Follow the Prophet.
Love from Dad and Grandpa. Page 39
Dad’s Final Interview/Counsel (before marriage)
Story of telling my mom and dad to always knock – try to look ahead
Sacrifice to move forward the 5 races of life:
1. School
2. Home
3. Church
4. Work
5. Social
Set goals – don’t just maintain
Communicate and listen to each other
Learn and fulfill your roles as mom, dad, and spouse – Vaughn in righteousness
Story of blessing the food on our first meal in our first apartment
Say prayers regularly:
1. Personal
2. Together
3. Family
Hold Family Home Evening – you became a family on your wedding day
Read the Scriptures -- alone and together
Read your patriarchal blessings often – make them come true
Go to the Sunday block time – always attend
Accept Church callings and ht/vt – be faithful, you are serving others
Attend the temple – always carry a ‘CTR’ card
Keep Journals:
1. Personal
2. Family
Establish a date night once a week – always do ‘something’ together
Control your spending and buying habits – be patient
Attend wholesome activities, movies, etc. – if not good for kids probably not good for you
Give service – selfishness is only for your own exaltation
Be accepting of each other – some things won’t change much
Story of honeymoon at Christmas time
Be helpful – little things mean a lot and make the difference
Honor and care for parents – especially as they age
Remember brothers and sisters – especially birthdays
Live gospel principles (some will never be a bishop or stake RS president because of their spouse)
Be unified but allow for individuality – remember the story of the 10 cow wife
Remember, obedience is the first law of Heaven – story of Adam’s ‘I know not…’
Story of Ammon and King Lamoni… – be 100%
If you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all – Family Slogan
Remember who you are – Family Motto
Talks...
Sacrament Meeting Talk
Bountiful 28th Ward
Easter – 16 April 2006
Good Morning, Brothers and Sisters. I express gratitude and a happy heart for the music and flowers, and for this Easter Sunday.
I have been asked to speak to a subject that even prophets of God have said is incomprehensible. President John Taylor said, “The suffering of the Son of God was not simply the suffering of personal death; for in assuming the position that He did in making an atonement for the sins of the world He bore the weight, the responsibility, and the burden of the sins of all men, which, to us, is incomprehensible”. And so I ask for your prayers and the help of Heavenly Father.
Two years before I was born, President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., said: “When the Savior came upon the earth He had two great missions; one was to work out the Messiahship, the atonement for the fall, and the fulfillment of the law; the other was the work which He did among his brethren and sisters in the flesh by way of relieving their sufferings. The Savior left as a heritage to us, who should come after Him in his Church, the carrying on of those two great things – work for the relief of the ills and the sufferings of humanity, and the teaching of the spiritual truths, which should bring us back into the presence of our Heavenly Father.”
President Brigham Young taught that this world is only a place of temporary residence. After the spirit leaves the body, which is death, it remains without its body until the time of the resurrection, when, in a twinkling of an eye, our spirits will take possession of our bodies again – no matter what happened to the body or where and how it was laid to rest.
Today is Easter. We are remembering and celebrating His birth and His resurrection, for, as President Hinckley has said, “there would be no Christmas without an Easter”. We are also remembering His suffering, His shedding of innocent blood, and the sacrificing of His body – at the hands of those who did not know what they were doing, for on the cross He said, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”.
President Joseph F. Smith, the sixth president of the Church said, “The atonement of Jesus Christ is the central and most significant act of all human history. It has both an unconditional part and a conditional part”.
What is the Atonement?
· It is to make one again. To me it is the re-uniting or bringing back together the body and the spirit, and the possibility of re-uniting with the Savior, in God’s presence, or shall we say ‘coming back home’ to our Father in Heaven.
What is the purpose of the Atonement?
· It is to correct or overcome the consequences of sin. And sin is the refusal on men’s part to submit to the law of God. When we transgress we lose control of our own will and become a slave of sin, thus incurring the penalty of spiritual death.
What are the unconditional aspects of the Atonement?
· It unconditionally overcomes temporal death and provides all people with the gift of resurrection and immortality. Death comes upon us without the exercise of our agency; therefore, we have no hand in bringing again life to ourselves. Every man that dies shall live again, a gift offered by the life and person of the Savior and provided by the Father.
What are the conditions of the Atonement?
· It overcomes spiritual death, which is the first death, or being banished from the presence of God, by redeeming us from our sins and making possible our exaltation (inheriting the celestial kingdom) – if we exercise faith, repent, are baptized, receive the Holy Ghost, and obey and keep the commandments, sometimes called ‘enduring to the end’.
What is Redeeming our sins?
· The Savior did not just suffer our punishment for us. He became the guilty party – in our place – and experienced our guilt. Our guilt became His guilt and His innocence becomes our innocence. Being tempted to sin is not it self a sin. As long as we resist then we remain innocent, President Boyd K. Packer has reminded us. It is as though we never committed sin!
And God said to Adam and Eve: “Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the Earth”; then God said to Adam and Eve: “But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it…in the day thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die”. They had a dilemma – either remain alone in the garden of Eden, or to do as Mother Eve choose, when she explained: “Were it not for our transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient”.
We also have a dilemma – being allowed to dwell in God’s presence. In the D&C we are told that the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance, and in Romans it says, “For all have sinned, and come short of the Glory of God”. As brother Stephen E. Robinson puts it – We have all been sent to our rooms and cannot come out – not unless, that is, the Savior comes to get us.
However low we may fall, the Savior has already been there. He knows what we are feeling. He experienced for us, in the Garden of Gethsemane, our grief, our heartaches and pains, our handicaps, burdens, and depressions. He knows our loneliness when we are not chosen for a part in the play, or a place in the choir, or a spot on the team. He knows the anguish of parents whose children are astray. He knows all of it, for He descended below them all, as the Prophet Joseph said, while in the Liberty Jail.
I have said before, at this pulpit, that I struggle with perfection. I am just now beginning to understand that if I were to achieve perfection in this life, I wouldn’t need the Savior and His atonement. And do I really mean I want do all of this struggling and suffering alone, by myself – without the Savior’s help? I know I believe in Him, but do I believe Him, as brother Robinson said in his book, Believing Christ.
Brother Robinson tells the story of his 7-year-old Sarah who wanted a bike:
“Daddy, can I get a bike? I’m the only kid in the neighborhood who doesn’t have a bike”.
“I tell you what Sarah, you save all your pennies, and pretty soon you’ll have enough for a bike”.
“OK, Daddy” she said.
A few weeks went by as Sarah did chores for her mother and put each coin she earned in a maraschino cherry jar with a slot cut in the lid. She showed her Daddy the jar with a bunch of coins in the bottom and said, “You promised that if I saved all my pennies, pretty soon I’d have enough to get a bike. And Daddy, I’ve saved every single one!”
Her Daddy thought, “Well, she’s my daughter, and I love her. I hadn’t actually lied to her. If she saved all of her pennies, eventually she would have enough for a bike. But by then, she would probably want a car.” In the meantime, sweet little Sarah was doing everything in her power to follow my instructions, but her needs were still not being met.
“OK, Sarah, Let’s go downtown and look at bikes.” We found it: the Perfect Bicycle, she ran and jumped up on the bike and said, “Dad, this is it. This is just the one I want.”
Then she noticed the price tag hanging down between the handlebars, and with a smile, she reached down and turned it over. At first she just stared at it; then the smile disappeared. She started to cry. “Oh Daddy, I’ll never have enough for the bicycle.”
The bike cost over one hundred dollars. It was hopelessly beyond her means. But Sarah is my daughter and I love her, I want her to be happy. So I said, “Sarah, how much money do you have?”
“Sixty-one cents,” she answered.
“Then I’ll tell you what. Lets try a different arrangement. You give me everything you’ve got, the whole sixty-one cents, and a hug and a kiss, and this bike is yours.”
It occurred to me as I drove home slowly, as Sarah rode the bike home on the sidewalk, that this is a parable for the atonement of Christ.
You see, we all want something desperately. We want the kingdom of God. We want to go home to our heavenly parents worthy and clean. But the horrible price – perfect performance – is hopelessly beyond our means. In some point in our spiritual progress, we realize what the full price of admission into that kingdom is, and we also realize that we cannot pay it.
When we finally realize our inability to perfect and save ourselves, only then do we realize that here in mortality we need to be saved by the One who comes to save.
At this point, the Savior steps in and says, “So you’ve done all you can do, but it’s not enough. Well, don’t despair. I’ll tell you what, let’s try a different arrangement. How much do you have? How much can fairly be expected of you? You give me exactly that much (the whole sixty-one cents – and a hug and a kiss) and do all you can do, and I will provide the rest, and the kingdom is yours! You do everything you can do, and I’ll do what you can’t yet do. Between the two of us, we’ll have it all covered. You will be one hundred percent justified.”
Christ is the answer. He is the bridge from here to there. He is the solution to the Great Dilemma. He solved the dilemma of Adam and Eve, and with His help we can solve our dilemma, and not have to ‘stay in our room’.
From Adam to Jesus Christ the law of sacrifice was given – a reminder of the Savior’s act to bring them back from temporal death and spiritual death. Today we are given the sacrament. By partaking of the sacrament, we remember Jesus Christ and His Atonement. The sacrament is the most sacred ordinance outside the temple.
I want to bear my own testimony that I know God lives and that Jesus Christ is his Son, His Only Begotten Son, who lived and died – that each of us will live again, after we die. He opened the door so we could come out of our earthly room, and live with Him again – yes, in the presence of God—the celestial Kingdom. I know He can save me – from my sins, from my struggles, from my imperfections, from my depressions and from myself. I know He has restored His Church in our day.
May we try to better comprehend what the atonement means and what He has done for each of us. I pray we will ‘carry on the work for the relief of the ills and the suffering of humanity, and the teaching of the spiritual truths, which should bring us back in the presence of our Heavenly Father’?
And I am reminded of what Mufasa told his son, Simba, in The Lion King, “You have forgotten me…Remember who you are!” May we remember who we are, and the words of the sacrament prayer: and always remember Him and keep His commandments, that we may have His spirit to be with us.
In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
Family Traditions...
FAMILY TRADITIONS
(Remembered and shared by the kids)
• Surprise box (white ZCMI box) on top of closet shelf. After all the Saturday jobs were
finished we could look inside for the surprise. Surprises were: Hamburgers at Pace’s Dairy
Ann and ice cream cones at Baskin and Robins.
• 16 gifts, 1 on each of the 16 days before the 16th birthday, with the 16th being their own set of
keys to the car.
• Bear Lake summer vacations while staying in the UP&L Co. quarters building at the Lifton
pumping plant at the North end of the lake.
• Canning peaches and pickles with mother during October General Conference.
• Father’s blessings before school started each year.
• (Mom having a baby about every other year).
• Getting Spaghettio’s and Vienna sausage, in our Christmas stocking every year, and eating
them for breakfast.
• A box of sugar-coated breakfast cereal on the table Christmas morning.
• Birthday sign on the front room window.
• Thanksgiving, Christmas, summer family parties and outings.
• Exchanging Christmas gifts as cousins.
• Kids’ day on the last day of school. Doing something fun or getting something cool. One
year it was the trampoline.
• A family valentine gift on the front porch from who knows where.
• First potato salad of the year on Easter Sunday and then on other family occasions.
• BYU football games with dad and the boys.
• Sitting at the top of the stairs Christmas morning waiting for mom and dad to be ready,
especially dad, before we could go into the family room.
• Birthday presents always included a bottle of Planter’s peanuts.
• Birthday dinners were whatever you wanted and eaten on a special birthday plate (given us
by Grandma Hixson) and not having to help with the dinner dishes. Sometimes we went out
to dinner. Going with mom to Skipper’s for fish and chips every Tuesday during the
summer.
• Boys couldn’t get their driver licenses until they had earned their Eagle Scout Award. Going
to Robintinos for pizza with dad after every General Priesthood meeting. (Later it became
take out so mom, and spouses, also could enjoy).
• Haircuts with dad the first Saturday of every month at Trujillo’s Hair Salon, with a stop at
Van Komens (the Dutch store) for sandwiches.
• Boys getting their first suit at ZCMI for their twelfth birthday, before passing the sacrament.
• Chilidogs and hard cooked eggs downstairs at ZCMI on Saturdays. Shopping for school
clothes before school every year.
• Having own cardboard box (usually and orange box) for our presents Christmas morning, to
keep organized.
• Devotionals and/or family councils, in the kitchen by the fridge on school mornings, to read
the scriptures, have family prayer and check everyone’s calendar for the day. Family home
evenings (lectures) on Monday night’s, including homemade treats, like home canned
pineapple chunks on toothpicks, and ‘wheels’ of fortune for weekly assignments.
• Family Motto, Remember who you are! Family Slogan, “If you can’t say anything nice,
don’t say anything at all”.
• Sometimes paying for the treats for those in the car behind us at a fast food drive through.
• Baking rolls, bread or something to take to someone else on Sunday.
• Leaving the kitchen light on, for those coming in from dates or whatever, to turn off so mom
and dad knew we were home. It also included coming to their bedroom to say good night.
• Mom and dad always supporting kids’ activities and programs by attending them.
• Boys all have ‘Richard’ as their middle name.
• Getting sen-sen (tiny, licorice squares) at church for being quiet.
• Fourth of July at Grantsville with Orgills that included a parade, picnic and fireworks.
(Sometimes Orgills came to Bountiful for the 24th).
• Hixson, Kuepper and Tibbitts cousins’ party at Christmas, with gift exchange and sometimes
Santa Claus.
• Yearly family vacations somewhere - Disneyland to Yellowstone and points in between.
• Extended family reunions and socials.
• Doing Saturday work to music – John Phillip Sousa and Kenny Rogers, etc.
• Family prayers, taking turns in each other’s rooms, and choosing 1 chocolate from the box.
• Mom always saying, “Oh, my stars”, “And this too shall pass”, “Don’t sacrifice tomorrow for
what you want today”, “Land ‘O Goshen”, “Whoa, Nelly”.
• Dad always saying, “Remember who you are”, “Remember what Thumper’s dad told him –
‘If you can’t say anything nice don’t say nothing at all’ ”, “Say your prayers”, Mow, trim and
edge”,
• The front room was the celestial room of the house and anyone could go in there any time but
had to act differently by being more quiet and respectful - no feet on the furniture kind of
thing, as could be done in the family room.
Knowing “Remember Who
You Are” was our family
motto, we received this
‘count a cross stitch’, made
by Grandma Ellen Hixson.
Bambi was one of my favorite movies and we adopted Thumper’s answer to his mom as a family
slogan.
Christmas Memories...
Stars at Christmas
Once, coming home from Huntington Canyon, I noticed flickering lights, like stars, here and there, in the distance. It was a lonely road, with only a few farm houses scattered throughout the valley. It was Christmas time. I wondered what was happening in those homes. I was sure they were all decked with brightly colored trees and trimmed with tinsel and someone's favorite decorations – perhaps old, and handed down from their grandma, or even their great grandma.
As I continued to drive, I began remembering.
The earliest memory I could recall was a noise on the roof and sleigh bells by the side window of our front room. It was Christmas Eve, just before bedtime. Going to sleep on Christmas eve was almost more than Santa could expect of an excited boy, however Mom succeeded in convincing me that morning would come quicker if I were asleep. I later learned, of course, that it Dad on the roof with the sleigh bells.
I remembered the small, unshapely cedar tree I cut, when I climbed the hill behind our house, but remembered most the tree upstairs that was full of long, silver, foil icicles, each hanging perfectly straight from almost every single needle. There were always lots of lights, but the thing I remember most was the milky white, five-pointed star on the top of the tree. It had a white light tucked inside, making the star shine brightly. It always seemed to me that the star of Bethlehem must have been white and perfect, just like the one on the top of our tree each year.
My mind continued to race over other events of those early years: Red and green construction paper chains, glued with flour paste; strings of popcorn with shriveled cranberries in and out of the popcorn; colored, glass ornaments all over the tree, each with a memory and story; and glass, bubble lights that took awhile to begin sending their bubbles up the candle-like tubes. And then there were the colored, hardtack candies, in the shapes of animals, that were on sticks like all-day suckers. For some reason, however, the white, paper snowflakes, cut out with scissors, and the five-pointed stars, traced from the stars on our linoleum floor in the kitchen, stand out the most and are still fun to make. It is a way of holding onto the past.
As I changed from that lonely road to the freeway, passing only a car or two, my thoughts shifted to another time in my life. Sleigh riding parties and toboggan rides down the hill in front of our house, which also meant lots of hot chocolate, with marshmallows floating on top, and big bowls of homemade chili, with crumbled soda crackers and tall, cold glasses of milk. I almost hurt all over again remembering the times I was unable to steer the sleigh or hold my legs inside the toboggan, tipping over and nearly missing our clothes line and tree, and getting my legs caught on the frozen, crusted snow as we flew down the hill. And while I'm sure it wasn't safe, I also remember the cautious excitement of being pulled on my sleigh that had been tied with a rope to back bumper of Dad's car. It was difficult to stay on as he turned the corners, with the sleigh bumping along on the snow-packed country roads.
I could almost feel the snowflakes slowly falling and quickly melting as I stuck my tongue out to catch them while looking up into the moonlit night sky. I remember, too, the handiwork of Jack Frost on the inside of our windows. It looked like frozen snowflakes and crystallized stars. Little circles melted into the icy pattern when I touched the patterns with my warm finger tip.
I thought about the trips to Salt Lake to see the lights and to shop. Sears’ toy department must have had every toy in the whole world. It’s where I first listened to Gene Autry and Spike Jones records. Traditions tugged at my heart as I thought about their influence in my life. There was the Christmas day dinner at Hotel Utah Coffee Shop; hearing Bing Crosby and the downtown traditional Christmas music, while shopping along main street and third south in downtown Salt Lake; the animated window displays in ZCMI; the big, tall tree in front of the Tribune building, and the giant stars hung high in the center of each intersection. They were like the milky white star on the top of our tree, I thought.
Before I knew it, the freeway signs were telling me I was nearly home. It brought me to the present as I rehearsed the thing’s Luan and the kids and I have done together. I remember the times I was Santa Claus. The greatest moments of those Santa Claus experiences came when the small children sat on my knee and looked up into my eyes, in their frightened innocence, asking their questions and believing my answers. I caught a momentary glimpse of the feelings, perhaps, the Savior felt as the children came to him and believed. I loved their love.
I always think, at this time of the year, about the magic of Christmas and the effect the Savior has on the whole world, if even for one, small moment. I've always known that it is a celebration of the birth of the Savior - a Baby born so long ago - the Christ child, whose birth was signaled by a star, the star of Bethlehem. Perhaps that is why I love so much the flickering lights of a city, or the faint lights of a distant farm house, or the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree. I'm sure it is why I remember the giant stars in the intersections of downtown Salt Lake, and the milky white star that was on the top of our tree. They all rejoice that Jesus is the Christ and that this is His celebration and that He will come again.
What a night, I had, of Christmas memories and traditions, triggered when I saw those flickering lights in the farm houses, as I traveled home on that lonely road.
Richard - Christmas 1994
A Life Sketch - an extract from THE LIFE HISTORY AND JOURNAL OF RICHARD STERLING HIXSON
I was a healthy baby boy born Tuesday, 16 May 1939, in the LDS Hospital in Salt Lake City, Salt Lake County, Utah; the first child of Ellen Ferris Hixson age 25, and Sterling King Hixson age 26. My mom and I stayed in the hospital for 10 days and dad had to rake up $50.00 to get us out. They tell me I was long and all eyes and not too good-looking.
My early years, growing up with my three younger siblings, Judith Ellen, Robert Lee, and Joan, was in southeastern Idaho on the Bear River. They were years of no worries, just knowing I was loved. I still remember the emphasis on the strict rules to stay away from the river, but during the summer I loved going down to the riverbed by the school to jump rocks, as well as climbing trees to discover birds’ nests with so many colors and sizes of eggs. In the winter time we would sleigh and toboggan down the hill by our house and afterwards warm up with hot chocolate and a bowl of mom’s home made chili.
My first school was a one-room school where each row of seats was a grade – from one to eight. When I was in the fourth grade the school district consolidated and I found myself in a big school with a room for every grade – from one to eight. We would ride the bus to town. It was a small, yellow bus we named the puddle jumper.
My mid teen-age years began in Utah, when dad was transferred with his work. Country life gave way to city life. It was a sad experience leaving all I had ever known. As we drove out of town on December 10, 1953, I turned around, knelt on the back seat, looked out the back window and watched Grace, Idaho fade away. I felt like my world had crumbled. We had a beautiful little copper colored cocker spaniel named Penny, and when we moved Penny didn’t move with us.
Soon I found my self in the “I can hardly wait until” stage of life. Ages 12, 14, 16, 18 and 20 were ones I particularly yearned for. 12 meant I would get the Aaronic Priesthood, become a deacon and pass the sacrament. Age 14 was also BIG because in Idaho you could have a daytime driver license. Becoming a Priest at age 16 meant I could bless the sacrament, and becoming 18 was a door to adulthood. I graduated from Bountiful High in the spring of 1957, in the first graduating class.
In my late teens, I faced the choice of being drafted or joining the National Guard. I became a member of the Utah National Guard’s 144th Evacuation Hospital unit. I left for my mission while in that hospital unit, and while gone the unit was activated because of the Berlin Crisis. When I returned I went into the Linguistic Unit at Fort Douglas.
Life seemed to move faster now. I received my mission call to leave in June of 1959 to the Netherlands Mission. I secretly hoped I would go to the same mission as my dad, but I hadn’t really planned on it. I’m not sure who was the most excited when I read ‘Netherlands’, Dad or me.
When I returned I worked at Saint Mark’s hospital as a surgical orderly. I left Saint Mark’s to be a surgical technician at the LDS Hospital. 34 years later, after early retirement at Utah Power and Light Company, I worked for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Missionary Travel and became a Certified Travel Associate, retiring from the work world in 1995.
When Luan came to the door my first thoughts were she is pretty and attractive. That blind date resulted in our marriage in the Salt Lake Temple on 16 Aug 1963 by president N. Eldon Tanner. Eight children blessed our lives, with 26 grandchildren to follow. The eight children are 2 girls and 6 boys, all married in the temple and the boys all eagle scouts and returned missionaries.
I Attended the Salt Lake Community College in 2000 and earned an Associate of Science degree, with high honors.
I knew several days ahead before President Rendell N. Mabey issued the call to serve as bishop. I served as a high councilor and member of the stake presidency afterwards, completing 20 years of wonderful experiences.
The later years included Luan and me serving in the Belgium Brussels/ Netherlands Mission, The Hague Netherlands and Bountiful Utah Temples, and now in the Family and Church History Mission.
I have a testimony the Church has been restored to the earth in our day, when God and His Son appeared to the boy prophet Joseph Smith. We have living prophets walking the earth again, gathering, teaching, and blessing us. I am grateful for my blessings, especially for the Atonement of the Savior.
12 July 2009
10 July 2009
Ranck Family History
RANCK FAMILY HISTORY
Note: *See also the book Rank of the Rancks, by J. Alan Ranck.
Compiled and typed by Sterling King Hixson, 1959.
(Re-typed for digitizing by Richard S. Hixson, April 2006.)
The first of the present known Rancks* lived in the province of Languedoc, France. Vibrac was the name of the family estate. At one time or another the family lived in Paris and Strasburg. As far as our knowledge can enlighten us at this time, the family at first spelled the name “Rance”. While in Strasburg the letter “e” was dropped and the “k” was added for reasons that will be explained later. In the United States we find a variety of spellings: Rank, Ronck, Ronk, and Ranck. Ronk probably approximated the French pronunciation of Ranc more closely than any of the other spellings.
The first record mentions a Pierre del Ranc in an act October 11, 1112, reported by “Thalamus” of Montpellier. Montpellier was the chief own of Languedoc and stood in a fertile plain near the right bank of the small river Lez. It is said that at this time, Montpellier had a fine school of medicine, and its law school dates from the year 1160. The city had a wall around it and during the religious wars the Protestants from the Catholics captured it and the walls were razed. This was about 1628.
The writer ”Revoir” gives the Ranck family a Spanish origin and states that some of its principal members accompanied Christopher Columbus to America on one of his expeditions. By he year 1498 records show that the family was firmly established in France.
In “Amorial de la Noblesse de Languedoc” M. de Bezons gives the pedigree of the Senior and Cadet lines. It was the custom of families to record genealogical data for the Senior male heirs only, for it was they who inherited the family estates. Usually it was the younger sons who had no share in the family wealth who immigrated to American countries or sought fortune in other avenues of endeavor such as trade and education.
Why did some of the Ranck during the first half of the seventeenth century leave their family estate in Languedoc and go to Paris? That question we cannot answer. By that time, Paris had become a great city and Louis XIII and XIV were in process of making it the most beautiful in the entire world. John Ranck born in Paris in 1641 is the first Ranck whose name and date of birth we know. His son, Hans Valentine was born there too in the year of 1668. John Ranck was a Protestant Minister, a Huguenot as the French called them. The years between 1641 and 1712 representing the life span of John Ranck were turbulent ones in the history of France and Germany. France witnessed the religious struggle between Catholics and Protestants, the terrible persecutions and revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685). The Huguenots were the most industrious and prosperous class in France. The Catholic Church never ceased its opposition to the heretics, as all who differed from them were called and so whenever a Catholic became powerful in the government, laws were passed restricting the activities of the Protestants. First their political rights were taken away, and then their fortified towns, soon their property was confiscated and finally their very lives were in danger. Records show that the Reverend Ouis Ranck, pastor of the Church at Die suffered death in 1745 at the hands of the Catholics. John Ranck, the one born in Paris was also a minister. He knew that if he continued to preach in France, his life would surely be forfeited. Realizing all this, the family disposed of their property, exchanged it for gold, concealed it on their persons and fled two hundred miles to the Protestant free city Of Strasburg on the Rhine. But they were not long secure here for Louis and his armies soon recaptured it, and the Ranck were in even greater danger than before. It was during this residence in Germany that the letter “k” was added to the name, no doubt to help disguise their French origin by giving the name a German connotation.
Though we mentioned that the Rancks were Huguenots, they were of a far more ancient faith than the mere word Huguenots generally implied. They were adherents of the Moravian Church, the oldest of the Episcopal churches and one that existed long before the reformation of Luther. The Huguenots were of the education middle class of the population. They were of the finest blood of the nation. France lost the best blood of the nation when these people were driven away. It is said that the Catholics massacred 100,000 of them.
Peace was not to be had in “Strasburg. Still fearful for their lives, the Ranck family escaped from the armies and sailed down the Rhine River to Mannheim Baden. Here John contemned to preach but this city did not prove to be the peaceful haven he so desired. The armies arrived in that area and that is when Hans married Marguerita Phillips at Mannheim. She was of French and Dutch descent. It was at this time that these people heard the words of William Penn and of his plans to found a colony in far away America where every one could worship as he desired and peace would reign always. It was from this region that the great migration to Pennsylvania came in the following years.
Reverend John Ranck died in 1712 but his son Hans had preceded him in 1710, leaving four children. John Michael was age nine, John Philip was age six, Susanna Marguerita three, and Johann Valentine was one year old. The life for the widow must have been difficult indeed in the years that followed. The youngest son died in 1712, but John and Philip grew to manhood in Mannheim. John married Anna Barbara Schwab, also a resident of Mannheim. News came to them that a colony of Moravians from Saxony was coming down the Rhine past their city on their way to a new home in Pennsylvania. After the privations of their early days the thoughts that they too might find a new home more to their desires in a new country thrilled them and they decided to contact these Moravians and ask them to smuggle them aboard their ship as it stopped at Mannheim. This was done and John and his wife, Anna Barbara, and Philip were soon on their way to Rotterdam Holland where the Moravians had secured passage on the English ship “Morton House” for Pennsylvania. Thenceforth their fortunes were interwoven with the Moravians. They landed at Philadelphia on August the 28th, 1728. John’s brother Philip and his family came to America one year later. Together they sailed among the friendly Indians and the exiled Huguenots and others in the wilderness afterwards known as Lancaster County Pennsylvania. There nearly half a century before the American Revolution while Sir Patric Gordon was the proprietary Governor of Pennsylvania, they aided in founding the town which the settlers called New Holland in remembrance of that brave and sturdy country which had welcomed and protected them in their day of trouble. Phillip’s arrival was one year later but came on the same ship as John.
Samuel Ranck was born in 1742 according to official archives of Pennsylvania. He belonged to the 1st Battalion of the Flying Camp organized in that state in 1776. Col. James Cunningham commanded it. On the 27th of August 1776 he participated in the disastrous battle on Long Island and on that ever-memorable Christmas night of 1776 he crossed the ice-gorged Delaware with George Washington and early the next morning was one of the cold and hungry victors of the battle of Trenton. He was at the battle of Germantown on the 4th of October 1777 and in the month of December of the same year, contributed largely of the products of his farm to relieve the need of the soldiers of General Washington who suffered in miserable Winter Quarter not far from Samuels’s property. Later he was one of the volunteer forces, which guarded the Hessian prisoners when they were removed from Lancaster to Philadelphia. Nearly all the members of the Ranck family that was capable of bearing arms fought in the Revolution.
It is interesting to note history records that Samuel donated the silver case of his watch, which he wore on the battlefield to the collection of metal that is now the Liberty Bell. His sister Margaret Ranck Grosh helped to nurse the sick and wounded soldiers and with other sisters of her church, helped to make a silk crimson banner, which has been preserved in Baltimore.
In 1778 Samuel aided in the equipment of the cavalry of Count Pulaski, which was partly recruited, in his section of the state and it was at that time that his sister Margaret helped to make the banner. It was a banner of silk presented to Pulaski as a token of gratitude for the protection he had given them during the occupation of the place. The banner waved from a lance head above Pulaski’s Legion when the hero fell at the siege of Savannah and is on view in Baltimore. Longfellow commemorates the incident of its presentation in his poem commencing with familiar lines; “When the dying flame of day, through the chance shot its ray.”
Peter Ranck Sr. was born in Pennsylvania, a son of Samuel. His birth was in the year of 1777 and he died in 1859. He married Margaret Eicholtz. Not much is recorded of this couple. They lived as farmers and raised a good family. One, Peter Jr. was born in Earl, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania on June 20th, 1815. He grew up and married Ann Lemon on August 18th, 1840.
Ann Lemon was born out of wedlock in Pennsylvania and was raised by a wealthy family by the name of Byers. After she was married the opportunity came to listen to the teachings of a new religion. The Byer family told her that if she joined this new Church called the “Mormons”, she could not share in the wealth of the family. On April 20th, 1845 in spite of all this, she, together with her husband, Peter Jr., were baptized into the Church by elder William Appleby.
In July 1846, Peter and his wife “Ann, with their children left their home in Pennsylvania and went to Nauvoo Illinois where he took an active part in the last battle which was fought between the mobcrats and the Mormons. He was ordained a Seventy in the Church in 1847 and in the same year he filled a mission in Missouri. While in Nauvoo, two of their children died. Catharine on July 17th and William on the next day in the year of 1846. The times were so hard that it was necessary that Peter make the two little coffins for them. They were buried in Nauvoo in a city lot belonging to Brother Martin Peck.
In the autumn of 1846 he and his family were driven from Nauvoo with the rest of the Saints and went to Winter Quarters, now know as Omaha, Nebraska. They lived in a log room that Curtis Bolton had built in the summer of 1843. Later, Peter Ranck and Henry Bailey built a double log house in Winter Quarters and the Ranck family lived in one room and the Bailey family in the other. A short time later, Peter went to Pottawattamie County, Iowa and built another log room and moved his family there. Here he was made presiding bishop over the branch of the Church for the years 1848 and 1849. In the spring of 1852 Peter with his wife and family of five children crossed the plains by ox team in Isaac Stewarts Company, which arrived in Salt Lake City September 20th, 1852. He located in East Mill Creek, now a part of Salt Lake and spent the first winter in a log cabin. Shortly after he built a log room on the same ground, which belonged to John Neff. In the spring of 1855 he moved this room onto forty acres of land that he owned on the bench and in 1861 he built an adobe three-room house onto the log room.
By occupation he was a carpenter and a farmer. He owned a shingle mill in Mill Creek Canyon and supplied the neighboring towns with shingles. In the early days when coffins were hard to obtain, he made them for his neighbors and friends. Being a carpenter he built many houses and barns for the early settlers. In 1860 he was called back to Pennsylvania to his mother’s deathbed. After her death, the family property was divided and with his share he purchased dry goods and groceries, which he brought back to Salt Lake in 1861. He brought a company of saints with him. In November of the year 1861 Peter and Ann were sealed in the Old Endowment House. Peter revisited his native state in 1888 to get the family genealogy and in spite of the fact that his people were bitter towards the Church; he secured about five hundred names. After returning from Pennsylvania he was ordained a high priest by Joseph E. Taylor on December 26th, 1891. Peter and Ann had 11 children, seven daughters and four sons. They were sealed to their parents in the Logan Temple in October 1886. Nine children survived Peter at the time of his death on November 18, 1895.
Ann lived a grand and useful life. She assisted in the birth of over 500 babies. Ann preceded her husband in death by 11 years. Of their 11 children, the second born to them was my grandmother. Most of the preceding history was obtained from family records both in Utah and Pennsylvania, but from this point on, I shall write from knowledge gained from actual contact with my grandmother and my father.
My grandmother’s name was Margaret Elizabeth. She was born September 4th, 1843, in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. She experienced the hardships of the family as they moved from place to place already recorded in this writing. She vividly remembered the crossing of the plains when she was 9 years old, and one time when I took her to Rock Springs, Wyoming to visit my sister Lisle, she told us of the places where they camped along the route.
When 19 years of age, grandmother married James Monroe Hixson. Shortly after, they left the Salt Lake valley and traveled some 40 miles to the east and were one of the first settlers of Wanship, Utah. They built a house, which they called the “Farm” and then later on built one in Wanship town where most of their 10 children were born and raised. Grandmother Hixson was a long and faithful worker in the Church auxiliary organizations and throughout her 93 years was an exceptional person.
People loved her and she had magnetic warmth about her that made the young people want to be around her. She was a lady in every respect. Her children and posterity were eager to be with her. Many experiences stand out in my memory when I stayed with her during the summers. The doctor from Coalville to take tonsils out used the front room of her home constantly. There were times when major operations were performed such as cancer, appendicitis, and goiter operations. The town’s children used to line up against the wall on chairs and their tonsils were removed in assembly line procedure. Grandmother died in September of 1936 in her 94th year. I had just returned from my mission in Holland and visited with her just once before she passed away. She was buried in the family plot at Wanship.
It gives me a great deal of pleasure knowing that we are descendents of a fine group of religious, patriotic forebears that have sacrificed so much for the freedom that we enjoy today. We owe much to them for the peace and comfort that we enjoy today.
A Memory of Dad's Grandma - Margaret Elizabeth Ranck Hixson
Memories of my Grandma Hixson
(Margaret Elizabeth Ranck Hixson)
Written by Elizabeth B. Hixson Frost, Fullerton, California
(Re-typed for digitizing by Richard S. Hixson, April 2006.)
Note: *See also the book Rank of the Rancks, by J. Alan Ranck.
My Grandma Hixson was born Margaret Elizabeth Ranck*, oldest daughter of Peter Ranck, Jr. and Ann Lemon Ranck. She was born in Salisbury, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania on the 4th of September 1843.
Her parents joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1845 and moved to Nauvoo, Illinois to be with the saints. They were there only a short time until the mobs came and drove them out. They crossed over into Iowa where Grandpa Ranck was called to be presiding Elder. He built homes and planted garden and raised chickens, pigs and such so that the oncoming companies of saints would have a place to prepare to go on to the Salt Lake Valley.
They also stayed at Winter Quarters, Nebraska helping the saints. There, in 1846, they lost two children, William and Catherine. The Church has erected a monument with the names of all who perished there and William and Catherine are included.
In 1852 they went on to Salt Lake City and settled on forty acres in East Mill Creek. There they raised their family. Grandpa Ranck was a very good carpenter and did this for a living. My son, Kay Don, has a chest that he made. Grandma Ranck helped in every way she could. She delivered about 500 babies, acting as a midwife.
Margaret Elizabeth met James Monroe Hixson at a dance. He had left his home in Indiana and caught rides with people going to the gold fields in California and Oregon. He stopped in Salt Lake to work a bit before going on. He met Grandma, joined the Church, and stayed. They were married in 1862. They bought forty acres of farmland near Wanship from the railroad for $7 an acre. Here they raised their ten children. This is also where I was raised since my father took over the farm in 1919. Grandpa Hixson died in 1902, before I was born, so I did not get to know him.
Grandma told me a cute story about her and Grandpa Hixson. Grandpa built a log cabin on the forty acres of land they had purchased. Their first children were twins: a boy named after his father, James Monroe, and a girl named after her mother, Margaret Elizabeth. Grandma had gone back to East Mill Creek to be with her mother when the children were born and when she went home to Wanship her sister, Sarah, went with her. Grandpa had a sawmill and would saw out enough lumber to make a wagon load and then take it to Salt Lake to sell. He might stay a day or two if he found a little work. He was on one of these trips and had stayed longer than usual. Grandma became very worried so she took one baby and Sarah took the other and they started for Salt Lake. It was not an easy undertaking since Salt Lake was forty miles away on the other side of a mountain range, but she was sure he had had an accident as was hurt and unable to get home. Fortunately, they had only gone about a mile when they met Grandpa coming home. She felt so embarrassed and would chuckle when she told the story.
On the farm there was a stream of water running out of what was called “Hixson Canyon”. Grandpa later built a new log cabin at the mouth of this canyon, about a quarter mile south of the first cabin. One time, while Grandma had gone to Salt Lake to visit, Grandpa added three rooms on the front of the cabin. The cabin had a stairway to an attic, which was used for bedrooms. When Grandma returned she was so surprised and so grateful. In this home they raised their ten children.
In 1900 Grandpa had become too ill to run the farm. Grandma had inherited some money from her father’s estate so they turned over the farm to two of their sons, Frank and Mark, and bought a house in Wanship where she lived for the rest of her life.
My father, Karl Burdette Hixson, her youngest son, later bought a small house from Aunt Eassy King, which was on the lot next door to Grandma. There was no fence between the houses. Aunt Eassy took only her clothes when she left so we had all her dishes and furniture. (I still have a few of her dishes.) My father used the barn on the back of Grandma’s lot. We had two cows. One was named “Vick”, but I can’t remember the name of the other. We also had two Horses, named “Bess” and “Lade”. We had pigs and chickens and Dad raised a large garden on the back of our lot. It was fun living close to Grandma. I learned so much from just watching her. I always think of Grandmother Hixson as a fast-moving, hard-working woman although she would have been in her seventies when I first remember her. Her youngest daughter, Hazel Jane, lived with her, so, in the summer, Aunt Hazel did most of the inside; every-day work and Grandma raised a garden.
As you came out of the kitchen on the back of Grandma’s house there was a large porch, which ran the full width of the house. At the south end of the porch was a lift-up door that covered a stairway down to a nice sized cellar. It was full of canned fruit most of the time. As you stepped off the porch there was a large water pump. That is where we got the water for both houses. There was also a summerhouse: a large room with a small coal stove in the center. This was used in the summer so that the main house could be kept cool. Grandma did her washing, ironing, cooking, and canning there. She also made her own laundry soap and stored it there. The summerhouse always smelled so good.
There was a walkway that went from the house to the barn. Each spring my father would plow up the land on each side of that walkway and get it ready for planting. Grandma would plant potatoes, corn, string beans, and peas on the north side, and on the south side (kind of between the two houses) was a long row of raspberries. How I loved sitting out there, picking and eating. The south side is where she also planted things like radishes, onions, beets, turnips, lettuce, and …oh yes, cabbage.
She canned some of what she grew and then always bought a lot of fruit from Salt Lake, which she canned. Since there was no way to get fresh fruit and vegetables in the winter, we relied on Grandma’s canned food. Hundreds of pint, quart and two-quart jars filled the shelves in the cellar. She would also have wooden boxes full of sand in which she would put carrots, beets, and turnips. They would keep for several months this way.
Her sons who lived on nearby farms would always bring her meat from the animals they raised and slaughtered. She had large barrels in the cellar filled with homemade brine, and she would put the hams and bacon from the pigs in this brine until they were cured. Then she would take them out of the brine and put them in white flour sacks and hang them in the summerhouse. By using this process we had ham and bacon all summer long and into the winter. She used the same process to cure beef and make chip beef.
Grandma always made something she called “paunhaus”. I’m not sure of the spelling, but I always thought it to be a Pennsylvania Dutch dish. It was made by putting the jowls of the pig along with the heart and liver in a large kettle. The kettle was filled with enough water to cover the meat and then it was boiled until it became tender. The meat was then removed and ground up quite fine. The ground meat was put back into the kettle, into rich broth, which had been created by the boiling. She added enough water to make what experience told her would be the right consistency and then added spices like salt, pepper and sage. This mixture was brought to a boil. At this point corn meal or germade was added. While stirring constantly, the mixture was boiled until it became so thick you could hardly stir it and your arms began to ache. It was then put in pans. When it cooled it was sliced and fried. It was eaten mostly for breakfast and was delicious. Yum, yum!
Another favorite dish from Grandma’s kitchen was hominy. I don’t remember seeing her make it, but I’ve eaten my share and loved every kernel. She had a special knack for cooking navy beans and ham and also cabbage and ham. Even after all these years I can almost taste that special flavor.
She had a large crab apple tree on her front lawn. She made pickled, whole crab apples. Oh, so good!
She was a wonderful bread maker, saving a start of yeast each time she baked so she would have it for the next time. The wheat for the bread was raised on the farm and was taken to the gristmill, which was about a mile away to be ground into flour.
She knew how to make sauerkraut and taught my father, so each fall we would bring a large barrel into the kitchen and scour it well. We then began cutting the outer leaves from the heads of cabbage. The heads were then cut in half and each half was split again. The heart was removed and tossed into the barrel. My father had made a “kraut cutter”. It had three large blades fastened to a three or four foot handle. Dad would stand and chop the heads of cabbage, letting the strips fall into the barrel. Every once in a while he would add a pinch of salt. The process continued until the barrel was full. He then placed a large plate on top of the cabbage with a weight, like a flat iron, on the plate. The barrel was covered with a clean, white cloth and placed in a cool place in the house. After some time, brine formed and cured the cabbage and, presto, you had kraut. We liked to eat it raw or cooked with ham. I liked it raw because we had so few raw vegetables during the winter.
We always had Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s house. After our family had moved from Wanship to the farm, the trip became most memorable. It all comes back to me when I hear the song, “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go. The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh through the white and drifted snow…” That describes us because we always went in a sleigh box. Straw was put in the bottom and then the big quilts made from old overalls and wool suits were put over the straw. Then we would cover up with more quilts. The snow would be deep and the air crispy cold. The sleigh bells would ring loud and clear and after a mile-and-a-half ride we would rush into Grandma’s cozy, warm and sweet-smelling home. A feast fit for a king would be served. Her yummy pies were so special along with her homemade pickles and, of course, turkey and all the trimmings. Each time I see a commercial on television with a sleigh and beautiful horses I think of those wonder trips to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving.
Grandma loved flowers and grew whatever she could in that cold country. We lived about a mile above sea level so the growing season was short. I remember an apple tree growing in the lawn. She made wonderful apple butter. Around this tree was a flower garden where larkspurs, pansies, and yellow buttercups grew. I loved the tiny buttercups, which came up each spring. I watched for them. Grandma loved geraniums but they would not live through out the cold and snow so she would dig them up and take them inside for the winter. She always planted sweet peas and had that wonderful scent in her home as long as they bloomed. She also had a large clump of marigolds on the north side of the house. To me they grew very tall but I suppose they were only four or five feet high. Such a wonderful color they gave.
My grandmother seemed able to do most everything. She painted and papered her home. She made rugs. Every piece of worn clothing was cut into strips and sewn together. From these she would either braid or crochet rugs. Sometimes she rolled the rags into balls. When se had enough she took them to a lady who owned a loom. The rags would be woven into a long strip about thirty inches wide. Grandma would measure the room cut the strips, and sew them together with heavy cord until she had a rug large enough to cover the floor. Since there were no rug mats, she would put down several layers of newspaper or a layer of straw and then tack the rug down all the way around the room, stretching it as much as she could. It gave a wonderful, clean, cozy feeling to a room.
She had one room in her home which she called her “parlor’. It had such wonderful, beautiful things in it—beautiful handwork and “treasures”. We children only went in the parlor on special occasions.
She had another large room at the front of the house. That is where they really lived. She had a sewing machine in there and large chairs and a table for company dinners. Between that room and the kitchen was a pantry. It also served as a passageway into the kitchen. It always smelled good because of the food stored there, and there was always a bucket of water in the pantry.
The kitchen was a large room and in the southeast corner stood a coal stove or range as we called them. It had an oven and a reservoir where water was heated. There was a window on the south wall. Grandma would sit by the window to knit or crochet with the oven door down to keep toasty warm. She made all the men and boys on the farm woolen socks. They were made in such a way that when the foot part wore out she could remove it and knit a new one on again. She made many pairs of socks for the soldier boys.
In that same south window she kept lovely houseplants. After I was grown she told me why she had feathers tied to those plants. She said if they weren’t there I would pick the leaves off the plants. Feathers must have frightened me.
She was “grandma” to everyone in town. I often took exception to my friends calling her “Grandma”. I didn’t then realize what a loving term of endearment that was for them. Grandma had a habit of only working in her garden until noon. Then she went in, got all cleaned up, and was ready for company to call. Her home was open house to all and she enjoyed the people who visited her. She made quilts and she would sit and sew blocks by hand and visit.
She always wore long dresses, very much like pioneer women, usually made of a dark print in navy blue, brown or gray. They come to her ankles. She always had a small pocket on the left side of the bodice. She had a beautiful gold watch on a long chain, which she kept in that pocket. I can still see her taking the watch out, opening the lid, and looking at the time. She always put on a clean white apron edged with hand-crocheted lace. Most often they were made from bleached flour sacks. She wore size four shoes. She always parted her hair in the center of her head. She had curling irons, which she heated in a coal oil lamp. She would twist her hair around the iron to curl her hair close to her head and then comb it around the back of her head in a bob.
She kept a medicine cabinet full of the remedies of the day and was called on often since the doctor was ten miles away and the only transportation was horse and buggy. She delivered or helped the doctor deliver almost all the babies born in Wanship. Down in the pasture at the farm were some willows growing. She called them “kinnykniks” and tag alders”. She made medicine from these. I’m not sure how they were used. Each spring she made a tea from the sagebrush growing on the hill by the house. She insisted we all drink this tea. She said it would clean your blood.
When we lived next door to her I loved running over to Grandma’s and cuddling up close to her. She would put her arm around me and lovingly tug at my ear lobe. This was soothing to me, but only when she did it. I sensed her love for me. She did so many wonderful things to make me know this.
She was always very “lady-like”, as she called it, and wanted me to act the same way and never tomboyish. She was always explaining the value of good manners.
She thought it almost a sin to get a suntan. If our dresses had short sleeves she would encourage us to pull stocking legs up over our arms so they would stay white. She made us sun bonnets. She always wore a bonnet type of hat when she was outside.
When she was in her late eighties she had a stroke. She was a fighter and she was soon well enough to take care of herself but not much else. Still, she would ask her friends and neighbors to let her darn their socks. That way she had some visitors when they brought them and when they came to get them. She did not like to be idle.
My grandmother was a wonderful mother to her ten children and her forty-two grandchildren, whom she lived to see and know.
She lived to the age of ninety-three, dying in 1936, after having another stroke. She was greatly missed by all who knew her. She had been Relief Society President for twenty-five years and had helped, in some way, almost everyone she knew. She often bore her testimony that God lives, Jesus is the Christ, and the Church is led by a Prophet, Seer, and Revelator.
She was a link to the past and refuge to the future. I sorely miss her. Growing up close to my grandmother was such a blessing in my life. I love her dearly.
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