Division

About five years ago, I was wandering thru the Campus Store (more commonly known as the Bookstore) at the University of Utah. It was probably late October or early November when I saw a navy blue, white and red flag. No, it wasn’t an American flag, but a rivalry flag. BYU and Utah were evenly represented. I bought it and a matching tumbler. I kept the flag, but I gave the tumbler to my friends, who are also a divided family. Grandma Pugh, who had Alzheimer’s, didn’t like the BYU side of the tumbler like her grandson, Jason did, a staunch BYU fan.

As it got closer to Thanksgiving, I hung up the flag in the unit we live in. Jay, a dyed in the wool BYU fan, didn’t want it on the front door, so I hung in the entry way. I can’t remember who won that year, but if it was 2009, it was BYU. That year, Jay bought me soup and that was more painful than comforting. In our household of two, the loser got the soup or some other comfort food.

After the game, the flag came down and was packed away in the closet until the next year. I am not sure if it came out in 2011, the first year the rivalry moved to September, thanks to BYU going independent and Utah moving to the PAC12. It didn’t come out in 2012 because of our Mom’s illness. I didn’t get into the rivalry like I usually did. My cousin, Coach Jackson did give me some grief on Facebook like he usually does. I was glad for that distraction, even though I wasn’t into it that much. The day before the game, I flew out to Seattle, to be with my Mom once more. But Mom died before I boarded the plane. I had packed my “Utah” clothing, so I was wearing red on game day. Laura had to use Kohl’s coupon, so during the game I was shopping. But my friend in Ogden kept me posted on the score.

Two weeks before the game this year, Coach tagged me in one of his post. Apparently he posted a BYU football photo in my honor. I was back. It wasn’t until I posted a photo I took years ago, that I realized I was enjoying the rivalry again. It felt good. I managed to tag family members on my photo. All were tagged on the top half, except for Steven, my almost twin brother. He attended BYU and Utah, so I did my best to get him in that middle part where it was white. But his name showed up on Utah side with me.

When Coach said something about BYU being on top, I knew I had to get out the camera again. After a few shots, I finally got one that I could post. BYU and Utah were pretty much even in the landscape shot. It was easier getting Steven’s name right smack in the white middle. Of course, Coach noticed and asked why. I gave him some lame excuse, because I wasn’t ready to confess. I added a few more BYU relatives on both of parent’s side of the family. I even posted Jason near the “Y” and two of his sibling in the white middle. Jason’s sister has flip-flopped quite a bit and Jared has been a fan of both teams. And besides, I knew I needed to be the lone Utah fan in the red part of the flag. It was sometime this summer that I realized I am the only one in my family – paternal and maternal – that is not a confirmed BYU fan. I’ve been bleeding red since my return to the Salt Lake Valley many years ago. Even when I didn’t particularly care for the University of Utah, I didn’t cheer for BYU

Even though, the Utah-BYU rivalry is on hiatus for two years, the house is still divided. After all, the two teams will suit up for basketball and other sports. The division will be less intense.

To be continued . . . in 2016.

Being With Mom

Ten years ago today, I was with Mom and her sister in Illinois. We started the day by going to church and then it was on to Carthage. After our tour of the Carthage Jail, we headed headed south and a bit east, then west. It was like an extended ride in the country which was a favorite past time of Mom's. After our trip in the country, we returned to Nauvoo, where we had been staying the few days.

Five years ago during the first week in August, my older sister, Mary visited Idaho. Since she was so close to Utah, Mary decided to pay a visit to Idaho. Mary's best friend from childhood and Mom traveled with her. While in Utah, we decided to ride the Heber Valley Railroad; an old steam engine that ran between Heber City and Bridal Veil Falls in Provo Canyon. Mom mentioned that she rode similar trains as a young career woman from California to Colorado and back quite a few times and probably in Colorado a few times.  Mom rode the in the open air car round trip. She must have remember how stiff the seats were or maybe she liked the breeze. But it was cool to ride on train that Mom rode on as a young person. 

A year ago I took my last plane ride with my Mom.  I arrived at airport to fly alone to Seattle. I was hoping to see Mom one last time before she left this earthly life. But an hour before my flight left, my sister, Laura called to say that Mom was gone. Needless to say, I felt quite alone until I was standing in line. I felt Mom's presence close to me. It was such a comfort to feel of her spirit thru out the flight.

Each September my thoughts will return to the passing of my mother, just like each February when I think of my father. I decided that I would take a ride "in the country" via Frontrunner on September 14th. But it didn't work out that way. Due to poor planning I realized a trip to Provo was out. Frontrunner only runs every hour. I didn't want to wait that long at any station. So I decided to the Trax red line to Daybreak. If memory served me right, there was a sugar factory in West Jordan similar to the one in Paul, Idaho. And then I heard reports that there wasn't anything to view on the red line after it left Fashion Place station. I figured West Jordan and South Jordan would be as rural as I would get in Salt Lake County.

So after I boarded the red line at Murray North station, I was for southwest  part of the county. I got off at Redwood Road station for a break. I realized I was like Mom, who had to take such a break ten years ago. When I got back on, it was announced that the next stop was "Sugar Factory Road".  I didn't get off, but I searched for any remnants of a sugar factory. I didn't see any, but it was nice to know that I remembered correctly. I didn't see much open space until after 4800 West. When the train got to the South Jordan Parkway, I decided to get off instead of continuing on to the end of the line,which was the next stop. I was glad I did. It was probably the most open of all the Trax stations along the red line. I took a picture of the Kennecott mine.

And then I looked east and saw the Oquirrh Temple. Mom would have been pleased to see that. She always loved to see a temple. She always made in a point to go to the Idaho Falls and Boise temples when the Paul 2nd Ward had temple trips. She even made regular trips to the Logan temple with a group of friends. And when the Twin Falls temple opened, her home teacher, Clint Harper took her often.  So I took my cellphone out again and took a few pictures of the temple in the distance. I looked for the Jordan River temple, which can be seen from the Oquirrh Temple, but it was too far away. 

After a few minutes, the train came, probably the same one I had been on when I got at that stop or the one at Redwood Road. Instead of a ride "in the country" I got a ride in "to the country" and I had my trip with Mom. She did ride Trax a few times, but this was probably the first she rode on one of the new cars. Even I though I didn't sense her presence on my little trip, I wouldn't be surprised she joined me on this adventure. 

Life Goes On

Last September, I flew to Seattle to see my Mom and my sisters. An hour before I boarded, my sister called to tell that Mom had passed. But I still went; because when I made the reservation I decided I would see my sisters regardless of what would happen. When I got to Seattle, my niece, Tracina picked me up and we headed straight to the care center in Enumclaw where my Mom spent her last week. (The mortuary waited until I got there to take her away.) When I got to the care center, my sisters, Laura and Mary were still there. So was my nephew, Skylar. He waited patiently as we began planning for the funeral and contacted the mortuary in Burley, Idaho. Most of the time, he waited in the car. After what was a long wait, Laura drove Skylar and me to the house. I don’t remember Skylar saying much, probably because Laura and I were both talking to the mortuary in Burley. Shortly after we got home, I looked at the window and Skylar was quietly jumping on the trampoline. So I took out my cell phone and took a picture. Even though, Skylar needed time to himself, he reminded me that life does goes on.

And life has gone on.

The Desert Blossoming As The Rose

When John and I were in Rupert, Idaho last September, we stopped by the Square. There was a display by the restored Wilson Theatre that mentioned that the area had blossomed like a rose, especially after homesteaders began farming the area in 1950's. A scripture in Isaiah was quoted, which mentioned a desert blooming like a rose. John had his scriptures on him and looked up similar scriptures. He later wrote the irrigation project in Minidoka County was a prophecy fulfilled. And I thought the scripture was about the fulfillment of prophecy in Salt Lake Valley. When the Mormon Pioneers settled the Salt Lake Valley, it was desert. Jim Bridger, a frontiersman, doubted a bushel of corn could grow in the area that Brigham Young desired to settle. I imagine Jim Bridger would be surprised that in 2002, the Salt Lake Valley hosted the Winter Olympics.

So while the Salt Lake Valley desert was blossoming as a rose, so was the desert in the Magic Valley. In the 1950’s, there was a big push to invite farmers to homestead in Minidoka County. One of the events that made this possible was pumping water from the ground.  Diverting water through the use of dams along the Snake River was another event that led to homesteaders coming to the Magic Valley. Although Minidoka County borders the Snake River, there are no creeks in the county. There are only man made canals running through Minidoka County. There are plenty of wells, which provide water for many farmers in the county. This makes me realize, I never thought I grew up in a desert.  I was surrounded by many farms that displayed the colors of green; potatoes, alfalfa, barley, sugar beets, etc.

And then I realize that scripture in Isaiah 35:1 " ... and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose." has been fulfilled in the Magic Valley.

Pioneers In Their Own Way

July 24th is a state holiday in Utah. Most business, except for banks and the federal agencies close shop for the day, so that residents can celebrate the Mormon Pioneers entering the Salt Lake Valley. Only the wagon company of Brigham Young entered the valley on July 24th. A few months, another group entered the valley and in the coming years, other companies followed. Some of the companies consisted of handcarts. Most of my ancestors came west with pioneers the traditional, but two of pioneering ancestors came a less traditional way.

Benjamin Jackson left England in 1849. He boarded a ship and wasn't heard until the late 1860's. By then, his wife had given up and decided he was dead, so she married another man. So when Benjamin Jackson found his way to Nephi, he told the story of what happened after he left England. Benjamin crossed the Atlantic Ocean successfully, but while crossing the plain, he joined a group of Forty-Niners and headed to California to search for gold. Maybe he thought it would be a quick way to bring him family to America. Benjamin never wrote his family, probably because he couldn't read and he would have to pay someone to write the letter. Benjamin in his later years moved to Salt Lake City to live with his daughter, Elizabeth. He is buried in the Salt Lake City Cemetery, along with John Taylor, a former president of the LDS Church and other famous Mormons.

Elihu Kisor Ball was living in Russell, Virginia when he joined the LDS Church. On April 15, 1878, Elihu left his native Virginia with a nephew,Balford after a sorrowful farewell for Utah. They traveled first by horseback for the first 30 miles and then walked to Pikeville, Kentucky. Elihu and Balford bought a small flatboat sailed down the Big Sandy River to Louisa, West Virginia to visit with relatives. It was here that Balford got home sick and returned to Virginia. It was the last Elihu saw his nephew. On May 1st, Elihu boarded a streamboat and sailed on the Big Sandy River to Cincinnati, Ohio where he boarded the train to Salt Lake City, Utah. He stayed in Salt Lake until 1880 when he was sent by Brigham Young to help settle the San Luis Valley in southern Colorado.

35 Years Ago

This morning as I ate breakfast, I read the Salt Lake Tribune. Peggy Fletcher Stack wrote an article about the 35^th year anniversary of the blacks receiving the priesthood. I remembered Mom coming home from town that day and telling me that George could have the priesthood. I gave her quizzing look because she had to remind me who George was.. I was thinking of another George who I knew in Salt Lake my first year of college. He was strange and I am pretty sure he might have passed the sacrament in the branch I sometimes attended. When Mom mentioned it was my FHE (family home evening) brother from Ricks College then I understood. George came to Ricks College my second semester there. He wasn’t a member, but he still returned for a second time. I found out the following fall that he had been in my brother, John’s and my roommate, Deb’s branch the previous year while I had been in Salt Lake. Toward the end of the semester, George joined the church; students from the 8^th and 29^th branch were in attendance. I think it was the biggest convert baptism that I ever attended. As I look back on George’s baptism, I realize it took him a lot of courage to join the church. He joined knowing he would not have the full benefits of membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. In April of 1978, he wasn’t able to have the priesthood, serve a mission or even marry in the temple. But on June 8, 1978 all that changed for George and other Mormons of African heritage. Now I know of a biracial young man serving in Brazil and his brother who has been called to serve in California later this year. Most weeks in Sacrament Meeting, I see a young man from Africa pass the sacrament to members in the church. All because President Spencer W. Kimball announced that the priesthood was to be extended all worthy males 12 and over, 35 years on warm June day.

Inspired by History

Like most women, I am inspired by the stories that Mom told me of my grandmas. Some of the histories are from relatives. I don’t know who told me of Ann Grimshaw Jackson, but I admire her for getting on a ship and crossing the plains in handcart to settle in Nephi, Utah. Her husband, Benjamin Jackson, left England to pave the way. After he left, she never heard from him for a few decades. So after a few years he left, she took her family and got a ship sailing for America, which stopped in Boston (or New York) to meet with a son, who had come ahead also. Whether the son came with his dad, I am not sure. The son did not want to travel west, so she caught the train heading west, knowing that she would never see her son again. The train stopped in Iowa, where she and other families traveling to Salt Lake prepared for their journey. They were in the Martin Handcart Company that left in July. Ann had a weak heart, so she wasn't able to pull a handcart. That job was left to Samuel, my great-grandpa and another son. I think two of her daughters also pulled a handcart. Ann would walk with her youngest son each day, starting out before the rest of the company and usually coming in after everyone had camped for the night. If you know of LDS church history, you know that since the Martin and Willie Handcart Companies left Iowa in July and were both caught in early winter storms in Wyoming during the month of October. Ann’s family made it to Salt Lake Valley. But her son, Joseph died soon after. Years after she settled in Nephi, her husband, Benjamin came to Utah. It was the first time in a very long time that Ann had heard anything of him. When he got to America, he joined up with some 49er’s.  The lure of gold held the promise of bringing his family to America. I admire the courage Ann Grimshaw Jackson had.

Martha Eliza Philpot Boice traveled in the Willie Handcart Company that was just ahead of the Martin Handcart. Her dad, William Philpot, died somewhere along the Sweetwater River in Wyoming. A few days later, Martha Eliza’s step mom died. Then it was just two teenage sister who made it to the Salt Lake Valley on their own. My Mom once told me that because of the hardships Martha Eliza’s suffered in the early winter storm of 1856, she had problems walking, but she continue on until she reach Salt Lake, where she met Benjamin Boice. I admire the perseverance that Martha Eliza had. 

There is one grandma whose stories I learned from LDS Church history. But of course my Mom let me know I was related to her. Amanda Barnes Smith is well known for happen at Haun’s Mill, Missouri in 1830’s. After her husband and a son had been killed by a mob at the blacksmith shop, she had the faith that another son’s hip would heal after most of it had been shot away. She had him lay still for days when she put an ash mixture into his hip. Recently in the Ensign, the official LDS magazine, I read about her taking her horse back after it had been stolen, probably from someone who had been part of the mob.  She needed the horse to leave Missouri as the Mormons were ordered to leave the state as soon as possible if not sooner. I admire the faith Amanda Barnes Smith had.

I never knew my paternal grandma. Jane Schofield Jackson died shortly after my oldest brother was born. But I have learned of her through various relatives. Jane was widowed when my dad was three years old. She raised a young family by herself and most likely got support from the community that thrived in Manassa, Colorado. I was told that Jane could have lost her family when her husband, Lafayette died of cancer. I admire the strength Jane had to carry on through out a difficult time.

I did get to know my maternal grandma. Mary Slade Boice often visited us in Idaho. Every Christmas she sent her grandchildren homemade popcorn balls. One year, she almost decided not to send the popcorn balls. But she decided that despite the high cost of sugar, her grandchildren deserved a Christmas gift. When her daughter, Betty was dating a young man of Japanese descent, Grandma welcomed Herb Oba with open arms. World War II was still fresh in the minds of many Americans. Grandma also accepted my brother-in-law, Doug Stewart, two oldest children as her own grandchildren. I admire the kindness Mary Slade Boice showed throughout her life.

And then there is my Mom, Mary LaRee Boice Jackson. Mom passed away recently of cancer and as I remember her, I think of all the qualities my Grandmas had. Mom inherited them also, even the traits from her in-laws. Dad’s family was important to her. Like her mother, she also accepted the in-laws as family. Mom drew on strength as she raised her family and took care of my oldest brother in her later years. Mom carried on with faith, preserved through her battle and had the courage to forge ahead throughout her life. Mom is an inspiration to me as I continue throughout life. Mom has taught me to put my trust in the Lord. And I must admit that she learned from my grandmas. We were inspired by our personal histories.

My 2012 Summer Tour of the Rooms

A year ago I went to a workshop on change, not by choice, but I was glad I attended. Probably the thing I remember the most is “The Rooms” of change. At the time of the workshop, I thought was okay with life; I was in the 1^st room, the Contentment Room (which was modeled after the bedroom). Last May, I was quite proud that I faced a major change in my younger life and figured that any more major changes were up the road a ways. What I didn't know was that before summer semester would end at the University of Utah, I would be in the 2^nd room, the Denial Room (modeled after the living room). My mom’s health was declining; I would hear reports from my siblings that she was losing weight. I don’t remember anger or being upset, but I was in denial; probably out of fear. My brothers went home to see my mom, but I didn't  I used the excuse that I didn't like riding in my brother’s car during the summer. (it doesn't have working air conditioning system). But in reality, it was probably more me being in denial and probably because I was tired of the tension that my oldest brother would cause. (Mike is housebound by choice and my mom was his full time caregiver.)  I am not sure when I moved to the 3^rd room, the Confusion Room (modeled after the kitchen). I was becoming hopeful, even though I was still asking questions. I had my moments of disappointments, but I was making progress. By mid August, I was listening to my siblings. My mom was having problems eating and Mike was frustrated because she wouldn't eat. He was sure someone from church or the neighborhood was poisoning my mom. My youngest sister was on vacation with her family and in-laws in Southern Utah. On August 11^th, Mike phoned me in a panic; he was fearful that Mom would not make it through the night. Apparently she wouldn't eat what he fixed for her and he must have noticed the weight loss. He told me that her legs were thin as sticks. While I was calling neighbors of my Mom, I called my sister who was wrapping up her vacation at her in-laws in Bountiful. To my dismay, I found out that Mike had called her. She was shaking as I talked to her. Apparently Mike had made Mom tell her how bad she was. So Laura’s family changed their plans and left for Idaho first thing. Laura ended up staying with my mom while her husband and son headed home to Washington (the state, not the capitol). Before Laura took Mom back to Washington with her, my Mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 Non-Hopkins Lymphoma. Right before her first and only chemo treatment, Mom said her final good bye to Mike. That Friday night, Laura and Mom caught up with Mary, my oldest sister. Mary had flown into Boise from Seattle to help Laura with the driving. Mom did manage to eat on the way to Seattle. But she was exhausted. Shortly after arriving, Mom had to hospitalize. She was too weak for anymore chemo treatments. In the next few weeks, I talked to my sisters and Mom more than I had all summer. Even though Mom couldn't talk, I was able to hear her voice or grunt. I counted my blessings when I remembered the sacrifices Mom made for me. Labor Day weekend, Mom had another difficult time, but again she made it through the night. A week later, her health improved and she was moved from the hospital in Auburn to a care center in Enumclaw. During the week, I moved to the 4^th and final room, the Renewal Room (which is modeled after the bathroom), but I probably still had one foot in the Confusion Room. I was energized and feeling relief, even though I knew Mom would probably reunite with Dad soon. Shortly after Labor Day, I made plans to visit Mom in Washington. An hour before my flight took off that Friday, Mom took her last breath. At first I was little angry, not because Mom didn't wait until I got there, but I couldn't feel Dad’s presence like I usually did when I needed comfort. While I was boarding I felt Mom’s presence. Apparently she wanted to take one last flight with me and that was comforting. (We traveled together a bit.) While in Seattle, my sisters and I made phone calls and made funeral plans. When I got back to Salt Lake, I semi-went back to work and prepared the speech for my sisters. Mom had assigned them to give her life sketch during the funeral. Then on Friday, my brothers and I went to Idaho, my first time in two years. It was refreshing, but sad. Mom was laid to rest in Paul, Idaho. That Sunday morning as my brothers and I returned to Saturday, I looked at Mom’s smiling face on my iPad and silently cried out to her to help me out as her personal representative (or executor of her will). I was back in the Confusion Room.

I took this picture the Friday before my brother called in panic. When I woke up that following morning, I saw the magnet with this quote and I identified with what Hugh B. Brown said. It continued to be a comfort to me for rest of the summer and beginning of the fall semester. 

A Tale of Two Marathons

Monday during my lunch hour, I was minding my own business on Facebook when I noticed that neighbor from Idaho posted “Explosion at the Boston Marathon finish line at least 3 dead 30 injured turn on your news!” My first thought was of a current neighbor (in Utah) who was in Boston running the marathon. Of course I thought of Jay, who ran the Boston Marathon several years ago. I texted neighbor and friend to find out if she had heard anything about Tracy, our neighbor. She texted back that she saw Tracy’s husband interviewed on KSL. I took that tidbit of news as good news. At the end of today, I kept thinking of a question that my nephew (in his younger years) frequently asked - "Why?" Jay answered back “I don’t know” and I replied to his answer that we probably never would. For once I was serious when asking “Why?” Earlier in the day I had posted on Facebook “Why do we want to hurt our fellow man so much?”

The next day as I walked out of the Campus bookstore, I saw the heading of three newspapers (two of them local). When I saw Terror on all three front pages, I probably agreed with most of America that terrorist had invaded the Boston Marathon. I think this was my first resolve to get up early on April 20^th and watch the Salt Lake Marathon pass thru my neighborhood.

Late Thursday evening, I was on Facebook again. A different neighbor and friend posted “Not 5 min into the news....shootings at MIT....man....” It wasn’t until Friday morning at work (not on Facebook) that I learned that MIT shooting was apart of the Boston Marathon bombing. Suspect #1 was dead and Suspect #2 was on the loose. I was more determined to be cheering on the runners in marathon the next morning. When I left work, I told a co-worker that I was watching the race. That was before I knew about the capture of the Suspect #2. But the capture did cement my determination even more because I posted on Facebook “I don't care, I am going to be along the race route tomorrow morning. Thanks to the terrorists, they motivated me to get up early to watch.”

To my surprise and my ability to wake up earlier than usual on a Saturday, I was up to watch the race. While Jay and I waited for the marathon to come to our neighborhood, we watched the progress on TV. I posted on Facebook  “Waiting for the marathon to pass thru the neighborhood. It is now somewhere in the Parley's Way area.” Soon after eight, Jay and I were out in the rain cheering the racers on. If the terrorists weren’t stopping me from cheering the runner on, then I wasn’t going to let the rain send me back to a comfortable home.  

I watched most of the marathon pass thru my neighborhood. A number of runner thanked the cops along the route. A quite a few told us spectators that we were awesome. I don't think I've ever seen so much gratitude along the race route. It was nice to see Boston jerseys and those running in behalf of Boston marathoner(s).As I watched the race I also noticed green jerseys and t-shirts. I read later in Trib app on my iPad that a few runners wore green to honor the City of Boston’s Irish heritage. And I yelled out “Go Boston” to a few runners.

And when one of the last runners came thru, Jay and I walked back to the condo. Usually the cops providing traffic control don’t get notice.  Even though the crowd in my neighborhood was less than in years past, I was grateful for the support from the runners and spectators that I saw. Because of what happen in Boston earlier in the week, the Salt Lake Marathon was different this year. And may next year’s marathon in Boston be bigger and better.