Trips With Mom And Dad

This is a long post.  I won't be offended if you don't read all of it.

I had intended to write a post on September 10th, the one year anniversary of Mom's passing, but I just never found the time.  It's hard to believe it's been over a year now.  I'm doing much better since Mom gave me a kick in the butt (referred to in this post).  I still think about her every day, but I'm not so sad anymore.  Time is healing my heart (that, and the fact that I realize Mom is with me still).

I took two significant trips recently, one back home to Utah and another to San Francisco, where Mom lived from her childhood until she married my dad (and it's also where she met my dad).

In Utah I visited my family and felt Mom and Dad's presence a lot.  I was able to visit with my niece and nephew-in-law, who (you may remember) helped take care of Mom before she went into assisted living.  I had not been to their house before.  They bought it while still living in Mom's house, and it was a fixer-upper which they've done a great job with. 

As they excitedly showed me each room, I was touched by how much of Mom’s stuff they had hung onto.  As my niece said, every room reminds them still of "Grandma," and it was nice to feel Mom’s presence in the house.  They have the two lamp tables that sat in our living room for as long as I can remember, the vacuum she bought from Kirby, my dad's dad's old desk that sat in my old bedroom for years, the shelves in the basement that held knick knacks, Mom and Dad’s rollaway desk, the desk that held Mom’s TV and all our games, much of Mom’s kitchenware, and there was also one of our neighbor's (and Mom's best friend's) old chairs, which seemed oddly appropriate, given the long enduring friendship of my parents with our neighbors.  But what floored me the most was that my niece and nephew had saved Mom and Dad’s old couch, which is the same couch that had been in my parents’ front room for almost the entire time they lived in that house.  Frankly, the couch is outdated, faded, worn out, and saggy.  

 Mom and my sister on the couch (one of the lamp tables I referred to is at right)

 I would not have been surprised if my niece and nephew had given the couch to charity or even taken it to the dump.  But there it was in their rec room, and it brought tears to my eyes that they had saved it.  I felt Mom so much in their home.

We had a good talk about what a tough time it had been the year they stayed in Mom's house to help care for her, but my niece said that in spite of the challenges and difficulties, it was worth it and they don’t regret it at all.  My niece and nephew also acknowledged that they would not have this house if it hadn’t been for their time with Mom.  It was nice to hear that.  I really felt a strong impression from Mom that any residual resentment or anger I held toward my niece and nephew must be let go, and so that’s what I’ve done.  As for me, I am thankful for all that my niece and nephew did for Mom and all she did for them.  I’m letting bygones be bygones.  It was just so wonderful to feel pieces of Mom in that house, and I’m grateful that my niece and nephew are reminded of her every day.

The next day I visited with Mom and Dad's longtime neighbors who had been friends with Mom for over fifty years and who factored very heavily in my life growing up.  As I talked with them in their living room, I looked across the street at the house I grew up in, now no longer mine.

The people who live there now replaced the old "211" that had been on the house since Mom and Dad bought it with a newer, bigger “211.”  

 The old "211" that was on the front of our house all my life

It kind of made me sad to see the old one gone, but, obviously, I don’t blame the new owners for wanting to improve and update their house.

My sister-in-law had mentioned (and my old neighbor confirmed) that the owners of Mom and Dad's house were actually wanting to sell the it.  Evidently, it’s more than they can financially handle, and so I guess they are interested in selling.  That made me a little sad, too.  I don’t know the owners at all, but was hoping their family might have many happy, lasting memories in the house like my family did.  If I had the money, I would buy the house myself.  I’d love to have it back in the family again.  But it would be impractical and, alas, I don’t have the financial resources to make such a purchase.

My old neighbor talked about how sometimes she still expects Mom to come out of the house, and of course Mom doesn’t.  But again, just as I felt looking at Mom and Dad’s old furniture at my niece's and nephew's house, I looked across the street and saw the house my parents bought and built together and felt their presence and legacy.  They’re ever present through what they left behind, both materialistically and in how they raised and brought up their family.

 My neighbor said she was downsizing and has gotten rid of some of her nativity sets, which she collects.  She gave the one Mom gave her to my other nephew and his new wife.  It’s a nice thought that something Mom left my neighbor is now left to Mom’s grandson and his new wife.

After visiting with my former neighbors, I drove to my older sister's house and visited with her.  I liked it being just one on one without any distractions.  She asked if I was hungry, and I was, so she got me some potato salad.  It was in one of my favorite bowls of Mom’s that I had used often to eat things like cereal and ice cream.  As had been the case with this trip thus far, it was nice to be reminded of good memories and that Mom was still alive and well in the lives of her children.  When I used the bathroom, there was Mom’s old green hamper, and it was a nice sight to see.

I just really enjoyed reconnecting with my sister.  It’s clear she misses me and I miss her.  We didn’t want to say goodbye, but we had to, knowing it would be a while before we see one another again. 

I then drove to my younger sister's house.  As I visited with her I had these same feelings of Mom and Dad’s legacy as I looked at Mom’s old hutch and her and Dad’s old easy chair and as I held Mom’s namesake, Jerry (my sister's newest child) in my arms while my Dad’s namesake, Gary (her middle child) was playing nearby.  It was a nice feeling and I felt my parents in the room.

I then went to an eatery Mom and I had gone to often.  I ordered my usual, a turkey and artichoke sandwich on foccacia with avocado as well as a chai frappe (which was excellent) and a chocolate chip cookie.  It was a really good meal and the place was not very busy, so I quite enjoyed myself.

Then I went to a theater where I had worked while living in Utah. When I bought my ticket, the girl looked for my name in their computer system, but it wasn’t there, but Mom’s was.  I told them they could delete Mom as she had passed away. 

I was so pleased to be put at a table by myself (it's a dinner theater).  There were three empty chairs next to me, and I imagined Mom and Dad sitting in two of them.  Since Mom died, I have been to several theatrical productions and have had two empty seats next to me.  I always like to imagine that Mom and Dad are next to me.  Here I was again with two empty seats, and I know how much Mom enjoyed this theater when she was alive, so I was again imagining that she and Dad were next to me watching the show.  

The next day I went to the cemetery to visit Mom and Dad's headstone.  I then went to the nearby headstones of Dad's parents and sister.  Then I decided it might be fun to look for the gravestones of my Dad’s grandparents, which were in the same cemetery.  I went to the cemetery office and they gave me the information, and I was surprised to find a whole bunch of ancestors.  In all the years I’ve been to Mom and Dad's cemetery, I’ve never visited that part of the cemetery (unless I did so as a child).  There was something really neat about standing where my ancestors had once stood and where many of them were buried.  In addition to the strong presence I felt of Mom and Dad during this trip, I also felt my ancestors, whom I didn’t even know in life, around me.  It was a neat feeling.

After I left the cemetery I dropped in on my great uncle (Dad's dad's brother).  The man is 97 years old and still very sharp.  His hearing and sight have diminished a great deal, but his mind and memory are still quite sharp and he is very healthy and active for 97.  We really had a nice visit and a really nice lunch.  I realize, statistically, my uncle's days are numbered, although I wouldn’t be the least surprised if he lived well into his hundreds.  I try to visit him and his sister (who's 94) more often.  I’d call them more, but they don’t hear very well, so it’s sometimes hard to have a conversation by telephone.  

I saw another show at a different theater where I had worked often.  Once again, I had two empty seats next to me.  I was right on the aisle of the fifth or sixth row with the two seats on my left.  I once again imagined Mom and Dad were with me (or maybe it wasn’t my imagination at all).

This particular show involved audience participation, and I ended up being on the stage with the other actors (three of whom were friends I had worked with previously in other productions).  It was a lot of fun but it was surreal watching the first act from on stage.  What was even weirder was being on a stage I had worked on professionally for several years surrounded by people I had acted with professionally, but this time only being a guest.  What it made me feel was “I need to be on stage again.  I belong here.  I should be in shows just like this one.”  I hope it happens sooner than later.  I'm ready to be on stage again. 

It was fun being back home in Utah.  I've missed my former home and my friends and family a lot.

The day after I got back home to Jonah, we took our trip to California.  We went to San Jose and Petaluma, but what was really memorable for me was visiting San Francisco.  I've only been to San Francisco twice (to the best of my knowledge) - once when I was very young and once on a theatre trip when I was in high school in 1986.

I have just snatches of memories from my first trip.  I remember crossing a bridge (the Golden Gate or Oakland, I can't remember (though I know I crossed the Oakland Bridge on my 1986 trip)); I remember being in a park (probably Golden Gate Park) by a merry-go-round with my mom's brothers' kids; I remember watching The Lone Ranger on my grandma's TV in her apartment and wanting to take her TV home to Utah because we didn't get that show in Utah; I remember my siblings teasing me because I had a crush on one of my cousins - I think I played in the backyard of my Uncle John's house in Martinez.  That's all I really remember from that trip.

The 1986 trip I remember better because I was older.  I remember riding the cable car with two of my actor friends; I remember going to Alcatraz and Fisherman's Wharf; Grandma came out in a taxi to visit me while I was there; I remember how expensive everything seemed; and I remember spending a lot of time on the campus of Berkley for the theatre competition we were there for.

To the best of my knowledge, I never visited any of Mom's old stomping grounds.  I decided to do that on this trip with Jonah.  We did cross the Golden Gate Bridge on our way to Petaluma, and that was pretty neat.

We happened to go to Petaluma on a Saturday and went to San Francisco on Sunday, so traffic wasn't too bad either day, although I felt like the drivers around me were driving much faster than was necessary.  It made me nervous. 

I had brought some old pictures of Mom in San Francisco (at her church, her childhood apartment, the apartment she lived in as a teenager, the park, etc.) and thought it might be fun to take some “then and now” photos. 

 

Our GPS pooped out on us during the drive so we took a wrong turn and ended up somewhere different than we had intended to go, but maybe it was meant to be that way.  We happened onto Mom’s childhood street, Broderick Street, and worked our way to her old apartment building.  San Francisco is not an easy city to park in, so Jonah ended up driving around while I would take pictures in various locales and then he would pick me up.  I was trying to be artsy and took pictures of Mom’s old photos in front of the locale where they had been taken originally.  I didn’t line the old photos up as accurately as I would have liked, but like I said, I was in a hurry.

Mom's childhood apartment

 There was something kind of magical about standing in spots my mother had once stood as a child (or where her parents had stood), and there was something cool about visiting these places I had never (to my knowledge) been before.  When I was taking photos of Mom’s old apartment building from her childhood, some lady was trying to get in (and someone eventually buzzed her in), and I thought how cool it would have been to actually go inside Mom’s old apartment (not that it would have meant much to me since I had never been there).  It was fun to take pictures in front of her old apartment and in front of the apartment of her friend, Mildred Palmer, who lived across the street when Mom was a girl.  As fun as the taking of the photos was, I think Jonah's driving around San Francisco was stressful.

 Note the lady trying to get into the apartment building

 Mom

 Mom

 Mom and her mom and siblings

 Mildred Palmer's old apartment.  Her dad was my grandparents' landlord.

 Mom and her dad and brothers

 Mom

 Mom and her mom

 Mom

 Mom

 Mom and her brothers

 Mom

 Mom and her brothers

                  We next went to Mom’s old high school, which is now the home of a community college, I believe.  We actually did find parking there.  

Then we drove to my grandpa and grandma's old apartment and I took some pictures there while Jonah drove around.   

 Where Mom lived as a teenager

 Mom's mom and stepfather

I stood on the same step Mom had once stood on as a young woman and doing so made me feel connected to her in a different way than I had experienced before.  I wish I would have had more time to take it in, but it was still nice.  

              

             I had wanted to get some photos in Panhandle Park (off of Golden Gate Park), but the park was very crowded that Sunday and traffic was heavy in the area, and there just wasn’t any place to park, so we decided to bag it.

    Our next stop was Mom’s old church, the Sunset Ward, and actually, Jonah was able to find a parking spot.  We almost didn’t want to give it up.  Because it was Sunday, church was in session, and as I approached the church building, some ward members and the missionaries came out.  

 Mom is front at the very right

I talked with them a bit and explained what I was doing and asked if they thought it would be okay if I went inside.  They said they thought that would be alright.  I went in and took a photo of the picture of Jesus that is shown in the picture my mom had of a conference taken in 1956. 

 This was a conference held in the Sunset Ward building in San Francisco in 1956 presided over by David O. McKay.  Note the picture of Jesus in the middle.

  Close-up.  David O. McKay and his wife are at the far right in the middle.  Mom is in the back left with the "x" over her head.

    I ran into a custodian who knew the building well, and he was very nice.  Sacrament Meeting was going on, so I couldn’t go in the chapel, but the custodian let me go into the cultural hall and take a photo.  

 Mom in the cultural hall.

He talked to me about the building and asked me about my parents when I explained why I was doing what I was doing.  I felt a little bad because he was under the impression that I was still a member of the church and he was trusting me because of that, but he was very kind and I appreciated his letting me have a closer look at the building.          

               Being in the same room that my parents once held their wedding reception in (at least I think it was) was touching and moving.  It almost brought me to tears.  It was so surreal being in the place where Mom and Dad were at the beginning of their marriage, especially since I had never been there before.  

 

 Dad and Mom at their reception

It was a nice connection.   

            

           Once I took my photos, Jonah and I both agreed that driving and parking in San Francisco was more stressful than we wanted to deal with, so we opted not to explore any more of San Francisco and drove back to Petaluma. 

  

                On our way back home we had decided to drive home via the Pacific Coast Highway even though it would add about 5 and half hours to our trip.  We just thought it would be a fun and scenic way to end our trip.  We got up early on Monday morning and had breakfast at the motel (and it was a pretty good spread).  We left about 7 or 7:15 am.  Because it was Monday, traffic from Petaluma to San Francisco was much worse than it had been on Saturday and Sunday.  It was also a little foggy. 

We actually spent the first hour of our trip in traffic from Petaluma to San Francisco.  Driving in San Francisco was even worse than it had been on Sunday, but we got through okay and then onto the freeway.  There sure were a lot of crazy drivers on the way, though.

                The Pacific Coast Highway was pretty awesome and very beautiful, but there were also times when it felt precarious and scary.  There were really beautiful trees, and it was fun to drive the coast and see the ocean.  Some drivers seemed so impatient (and one guy, in particular, who crossed the double lines seemed unnecessarily dangerous). 

                I felt Mom and Dad with us on the trip, and I was reminded of the poem I wrote about in this post:

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of far-off birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

Lacrymosa, dies illa (That sorrowful day)

I am in ev’ry flower that blooms,

I am in still and empty rooms.

I am the child that yearns to sing:

I am in each lovely thing

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I did not die."

                All the beautiful sights we saw on our Pacific Coast Highway drive reminded me that Mom and Dad are very much with me.  I wondered if Dad had driven this route when he visited Mom from Long Beach or on his way back to his ship when he was in the Navy.  It seems logical that he might have taken that route.

                At the beginning of our drive, Jonah got a message from the woman in Utah to whom he had given the Jack O’ Lantern he originally made for Mom, but which we took after Mom moved out of her house.  She wrote:

                “Hey [Jonah],

A couple of years ago, you surprised me with a gift of this pumpkin where I keep your card and think of you every fall when I put my decorations out.  Love it still and wanted to let you know...Jane.
Sandy Antique Mall,  Ut”

Jonah responded:

“Hi Jane

“It was so great to get this email from you ,,, I knew you were the right person to take care of this special pumpkin that my mother in-law loved so much before she was moved into assisted living. In September of 2013 she passed away and our trips to Utah are not as frequent as they were before but it's great to know that this piece of folk art that I made has a great caretaker like you ..... So thank you for being a great caretaker and sending me this email when I needed it. It means a lot to me that you love it ,,,

“Take care Jane and thank you for the blessing of your email ,,,

“Sincerely

“[Jonah]”

We thought that was maybe Mom’s way of letting us know she was with us.

Both of the trips I took were very enjoyable, and I'm really glad Mom and Dad tagged along.  They are always welcome.

               

You Know What I Miss?

I had a charmed childhood and family life.  I didn't always know or appreciate it at the time, but I did. As I read through Mom's journals I am reminded of that fact.

I don't ever remember my parents having a fight;  an occasional disagreement perhaps, but I never heard them raise their voices to one another in the 21 years I was with them before Dad passed away.  That's pretty amazing to me.

We went on a vacation every year that I remember - the Grand Canyon, San Francisco, Yellowstone National Park, Disneyland, Universal Studios, Lava Hot Springs, Craters of the Moon, Bryce Canyon, Ricks College, and one whirlwind journey to Seattle, Vancouver, and other parts of Canada were among some of the places we saw together.  Mom, Dad, and I also went to New York together, and after Dad's death Mom and I toured Belgium, France, England, Austria, Switzerland, and the Netherlands together.

We also did a lot of family outings when I was growing up - Lagoon Amusement Park, the Heber Creeper, the Alpine Slide in Park City, Hogle Zoo, Temple Square, Hansen Planetarium, the Museum of Natural History, various parks and monuments spread throughout the Salt Lake Valley, drives and picnics in the canyons that surround the valley, going out to eat or out for dessert at McDonald's, Su Casa, Baskin-Robbins, the Cultured Cow, Chuck-a-Rama, Arctic Circle, Sunday outings to my grandma's house, Christmas Eves at my great aunt's house, Thanksgivings with friends and neighbors, movies and plays galore.  I have such fond memories of those times.

Rarely would a trip happen where we didn't have car trouble.  I'm sure it frustrated the hell out my dad, but it just seemed like a trip wasn't a trip without pulling over for some car issue.

We were (and still are) a game-playing family.  Dad, Mom, and my two older siblings would play a card game called 500; Mom and my older brother played cribbage a lot; we played Trivial Pursuit, the Ungame, Pictionary, Scattergories, Taboo, Skip-bo, Uno, Apples to Apples, Monopoly, Life, Sorry, the Mad Magazine game, Hearts, Catchphrase, and so many others.

We had truly magical Christmases, even in leaner times.  I sometimes don't know how Mom and Dad afforded to give us so many great gifts or take us on these incredible trips and outings.

Dad would come home from the store with a candy bar for each of us kids as a special surprise.  Mom might bring us some candy from the ice cream store she worked for at the time, Snelgrove's.

I remember dyeing eggs and having Sunday morning egg hunts at Easter and the candy baskets that would be prepared for us.

Birthdays were almost always great affairs.  Treasure hunts, videos of Disney movies, lots of friends, and Mom would often make a special cake for us.  I remember getting one shaped like a train and another like a castle.  Or we'd go to Farrel's for ice cream.

We had a huge backyard where we played croquet, tried to plant a garden, jumped on the trampoline, swung on swings, and did yard work together.

Mom and Dad would film us with the Super 8 camera they had or take pictures of us, and I have now inherited a plethora of family memories captured on film

We were a church-going family.  All of my parents' children served missions and served in many callings.  We held Family Home Evening on Monday nights when I was growing up filled with lessons and family discussions and activities.  I remember fondly one where we made chocolate chip cookies together.

We had meals together growing up.  Mom wasn't a great cook, but she made us meals with a lot of love and we ate together and discussed the goings on in our lives. 

We prayed together, and Dad would give everyone in the family a blessing every year before we started school.  Mom served as a Primary teacher and Relief Society teacher among many others and Dad was the ward clerk for what seemed like forever.

My siblings and I got along.  Sure, there were times when we got on each other's nerves, but overall we were a very happy family growing up.  It wasn't until I met friends whose family lives were less than ideal that I realized not every family was like mine.

Home was a place I really enjoyed, especially since I was bullied a lot in school.  Home was a place of refuge, love, safety, and comfort.  I remember coming home from school and having great discussions with Mom and later when we worked together we'd have really great after-work discussions.

Of course, eventually everyone got married or went to school or moved or went on missions or (in Dad and Mom's cases) died, and so that affected the family togetherness I remember so fondly as a child.  I miss that closeness and constant camaraderie.  Sure, we still get together and do stuff, but it's not the same.  I don't suppose it ever will be.  But I loved it when it was ours and I miss it a lot.

It wasn't perfect, but it was great.

Thinking About Dad

As I have been transcribing Mom's journals, it's been fun and, sometimes, enlightening to read of her life and experiences.  Mom and I were very close so there haven't been a lot of surprises or shocks.  If anything, she only reinforces things I already knew about her.

I have been moderately surprised when she has talked of jealousy she had over how my grandmother favored her daughter (my aunt) over her other children or dissatisfaction with her service in the church, but I wasn't too surprised by things like that.

What did take me aback, which I never knew until just this week, was that there was a period in 1988 when Dad was on antidepressants and seeing a psychologist.  I never knew that at all.  I talked to my sister, who is older than me, and she knew nothing about it, either.

Here's what I did know:

1. In March of 1984, Dad had a small stroke.  Between then and about January of 1988 he had at least one more and possibly a third, undiagnosed one.

2. In early 1988 Dad's boss was concerned with his performance and ordered him to be medically examined on the company's dime.  Dad at this time had slowed down and his memory and ability to learn new concepts was impaired.

3. Dad disliked his job and found it very stressful.  While I didn't know all the details, I know Dad had difficulty with his boss and work environment and was not happy in his job for many years.

4. Dad eventually was given a medical disability and retired in April 1988.  He was happier as a result but continued to have serious strokes and health issues until his death in October of 1992

Apparently, as a condition of his company-ordered medical examination he saw a psychologist.  Mom indicates that Dad was very depressed during the time we was still employed and seeing this psychologist.  Apparently she prescribed him some antidepressants, which he took for a short time before he retired.  I never knew any of that.

Dad was a quiet guy who never talked much or complained.  He was a good man who worked hard to provide for his family.  I loved him very much, but I do wish he had communicated more.  According to her journals, so did Mom.

I sometimes feel bad because for years Dad was stuck in a job he didn't seem to like very much.  Even in the early eighties, Mom indicates that Dad has desires to quit and yet he worked there for 28 years, and on some level, I've always thought his job was partially responsible for his health problems and his early death.

Mom told me once that Dad would have liked to open a record shop.  Dad loved music and that was one thing he talked about doing early in his relationship with Mom.  Instead he went into computer programming and worked for a life insurance company.  I often feel that Dad did so out of a duty to support and provide for his family.  While I admire him for being a good provider (and he did a good job at it), I also feel his job interfered with his personal health, satisfaction, and happiness, and watching his experience is one of the reason I've always tried to do the kind of work that brings me fulfillment and happiness even if it's not always as financially lucrative.  I think that philosophy has served me well even if it hasn't always served my pocketbook as admirably.

I miss Dad.  He was a good man.  I always think of Dad as "behind-the-scenes" rather than "on stage."  Without him, the success of the "production" that is our family would not have been what it was at all.  But he was very unassuming and quiet about how he did things.  He quietly paid bills, planned vacation itineraries, and worked hard to earn the money needed to provide for us and give us a little extra so we could take those vacations, which are some of my most cherished memories.

He would stop at the store on the way home from work and buy each of us kids a candy bar.  He would drive me to school on his way to work.  He would sit quietly in the living room and listen to music or watch a game on TV to relax.

Dad and I didn't have a ton in common.  He was big football fan, loved to fish, and enjoyed country music, none of which I cared for.  He wasn't a big talker, whereas I loved to talk.  I just naturally gravitated to Mom, who loved old movies and theatre and who loved to talk about anything and everything.  I adored my dad; he was hard-working, loving, thoughtful, even-tempered and was a terrific example of quiet endurance.  But I didn't know my dad very well.  I didn't always know what he was thinking and he never shared much about his life.  And he died relatively young when I was only 21.

I have great memories of him, though, and I wish he would have been more personally fulfilled.  He made the choices he made and they greatly benefited our family.  Like my mom, he lived for his family.  I just sometimes he could have found a better balance with living for himself.

Finding Out Things

It's funny the things you're not really aware of as a kid but which you learn about later on in life.

My Grandpa Ralph was the only grandpa I ever knew.  He was my mom's stepfather.  My dad's dad died four years before I was born, so I never met him at all (unless it was in heaven).  Mom's dad died the year after I was born, so even if I met him, I certainly don't remember him.  As far as I was concerned, Ralph was Grandpa.

Although Grandpa Ralph died when I was 6, I do have memories of him.  I remember loving him a lot - probably because he spoiled me rotten.  He and my Grandma lived in San Francisco, so I didn't see them too, too often, but they came and visited occasionally, and I remember once visiting them

Grandpa had nicknames for all of us.  Mine was "Tiger," and that's what he always called me.  I remember him giving me a stuffed tiger as a toy, and I had it for a few years.

Grandpa was very loving, affectionate, and kind.  He bought me toys (including a train set when I was a baby or toddler and which my mom thought was completely impractical.  I have several pictures of me with Grandpa Ralph.

I also remember being devastated when I learned he had died, which if I remember correctly, was a month or two after the fact, and I also remember being upset that no one had told me sooner (although I get the impression they did, but that I just didn't understand the magnitude of what it meant).

That's what I remember.  All memories I have of Grandpa Ralph are good ones.  I remember nothing bad about him.

But as I've read Mom's journals and talked with family members and friends and read letters and as I think of things Mom has told me during my life, her experience was different as was that of her brothers.  Apparently Ralph was domineering and could be very childish if he didn't get his way.  He was overly sensitive.  He was a control freak, and although I don't think he would ever have hurt anybody purposefully, I understand he had a bit of a temper and could say hurtful things when under duress.  I get the feeling he was manipulative.  I think he thought he could buy people's love and trust with material things.  He had to have his fingers in everybody's business.

As Mom has told it, Ralph married her mother when Mom was 16, and that was tough.  Ralph insinuated himself into Mom's life, trying to replace her father (that's how she saw it), and Mom was of an age when she resented that.  She resented Ralph's intrusion into her personal life and trying to tell her what to do.  She resented his unsolicited advice and nagging.  Mom also thought he was a bit ethically-challenged (little acts of dishonesty that didn't seem a big deal to Ralph, but which upset her).  From all Mom has ever told me, it was a very difficult time.

When she was nineteen, Mom got so fed up and found the situation so unbearable that she moved out and into an apartment of her own.  I think this hurt both Grandma and Grandpa, but Mom couldn't take it.

I have been reading my Dad's love letters to Mom, written during this period.  I only have Dad's side, though (he, unfortunately, didn't keep Mom's letters to him), and it doesn't reveal much about the situation...yet (I'm still reading them), but I did find a letter to my mom from her grandfather saying some not so nice things about Ralph and pleading with Mom to stay with her mother even though things were rough.  Mom apparently ignored that advice.

I also learned that Ralph alienated the whole family for some time.  Both of Mom's brothers left home when they got older, and neither had anything to do with Ralph even up until he died.  Mom's younger brother didn't speak to either Ralph or his mom for three years, as I understand it.

While I knew life with Ralph was not happy for Mom or her brothers, I did not really understand the extent until I started reading journals and letters and listening to old tapes.  And the Grandpa Ralph I knew does not fit the image presented to me now.

I do get the impression that Ralph was a man with good intentions who did some good things, but who was also deeply flawed.

I have some old tapes of Grandpa talking.  He sounds so kindly and loving to me, just as I remember him.  The fact that I know more details about his life doesn't change that.  But it's true that the idyllic picture you have of someone as a kid can be altered drastically by a reality you never recognized.

I also have a tape of my Grandma a week after Ralph died.  One can tell there is still tension between her and her sons (by that time, Mom had basically reconciled her differences with him and had remained close), and she sounds so alone.  It makes me sad to hear her pain.

I also discovered that Ralph's wishes were to be cremated and that no one was to know about it until after the fact (another manipulation?), but that didn't end up happening.  Grandma called Mom the day after he died and told her, and Mom informed her older brother, who informed the younger one.  Much to Grandma's surprise, both boys showed up to the service, whatever it entailed.  Mom wanted to come, too, but Grandma told her "no."

Anyway, it's just weird to find out all sorts of things I never really knew.  It's kind of like when I found out Dad's mom was a bit of a racist.

Reading Dad's letters has also made me really how witty and romantic he was.  I can see why Mom fell in love with him.  But the young 22 year-old in the letters bears little resemblance to the man I knew as my father.  He probably expressed himself better through writing than speaking, which is ironic since we have so little of anything he may have written.  Dad was quiet, serious, and didn't express himself too much.  I kind of wonder what happened to the goofy, funny, smitten guy I see in these letters.

Anyway, it's been educational.

Memories For Sale

This is a photo of my dad, mom, and big sister taken a year or so after they moved into the house I grew up in; a house Mom spent 50 years in; and a house which she no longer even seems to remember.  Dad's father had a special relationship with the home builder and was able to get Mom and Dad a discount on it.  Mom and Dad and their descendants have been the only residents of this home.  That will change soon.

Mom and Dad's house went up for sale today.  Mom and Dad paid $15,000 (I think) for this house in 1961.  Today we're attempting to sell it for $209,500.  The home's value has certainly increased even accounting for inflation, but it's nothing compared to the value of memories created in this home.

It makes me a little sad to know that my childhood home will belong to someone else, but it is also my fondest wish that whoever ends up buying Mom's home will have as many wonderful memories there as my family and I did.


This is Mom with my older brother about two years after the previous picture was taken.  Notice the recently planted rose bushes in the background.

This is Mom and me about 6 years later.  Notice those same rose bushes.  They still flourish today.

I was in Jonah's parents' backyard the other day.  We had been helping them prune, weed, and clean up a bit.  After we had finished, I was sitting on a bench back there looking at their very lovely and full rose bushes and I just started crying thinking of the roses Mom and Dad had planted for their new home.  Just like those roses, so many wonderful and cherished memories blossomed in that home on the street where I grew up.

I'll always have my memories, of course.  Even if a disease like dementia temporarily robs me of them, they will always be inside me somewhere.  Selling a house or getting rid of material things will never change that.  But I do feel a loss of the symbol of what my childhood home represents.  Handing that over to someone else is hard.

I have been transcribing Mom's journals so that my family will have a keepsake of her life when after she has passed on.  Originally, I was just doing random journals in no particular order.  Now I've decided to go in order because I am interested in seeing the progression of Mom's life.

I had forgotten how domestic Mom was when I was younger.  In the journals I've been reading (about 1978-1979), she's constantly cleaning and baking and doing stuff with her kids.  Religion, as it always was, was of great importance.  I had forgotten how consuming church life could be pre-correlation.  Family Home Evening on Monday, Relief Society on on Wednesday, Primary on Thursday, Priesthood, Sunday School, and Sacrament Meeting on Sunday (Sunday School early in the day and then returning later for Sacrament Meeting after lunch), and visiting teaching and mutual activities as well.  I vaguely remember it being that way, but it's crazy how time-consuming it must have been.

I'm especially touched by how much my family did together.  Mom and Dad were big on family activities.  In several journal entries spanning a week, Mom recounts how one day we went to Sundance for brunch; the next day we went to Mt. Timponogos and to Provo for miniature golf; the next day to an amusement park called Lagoon where we also picnicked; the next day to Park City to go on the Alpine Slide; and the next day to Murray Park for a picnic.  I fondly remember family vacations we took to Disneyland, Yellowstone Park, British Columbia, Las Vegas, Seattle, the Grand Canyon, etc.  We had regular family home evenings when I was young and we had family dinner regularly.  I know there are many people out there who have had less than ideal family lives, but mine was great.  I miss that family togetherness.  We still get together, but of course with new marriages, new families, and new lives, it is never the same as it was when I was a child.

Mom is doing well.  She's actually been quite coherent and articulate lately, almost like talking to my old mom.  I think assisted living has been very good for her...and for us.  There are days when she would like to leave, but she seems like she is adjusting well.

Mom's brother died a few days ago.  He was in pretty frail health.  I did not know him well.  I met him once when I was a kid, but distance prevented any real relationship with him.  He and Mom were close when they were young, but in later life it seemed they only spoke or wrote on birthdays or holidays.  I always found that kind of sad.  When I told Mom he had died, she didn't react too badly.  She said she hadn't spoken to him in a while (which was true) and seemed resigned that if it was his time to go, it was his time to go.  The next day, however, it seemed to hit her more and she was upset about it.

At first I thought her reaction was strange, but then I thought of my relationship with my own brother, who I love and admire a great deal, but with whom I have little in common.  My older sister's death would be more liable to break me up than his would.  I don't mean that to sound insensitive.  I don't mean it that way.  I just mean that I am closer with my sister than I am with my brother.  I can see my relationship with my brother being much the way Mom's was with hers.

Mom's other brother (who I think she's a little closer to (although they don't communicate much, either) called Mom and spoke with her, and I think that was nice for Mom.

Anyway, it will be interesting to see who buys Mom's house and what becomes of it.

Doomsday Approaching

I'm flying into town for an audition on Thursday and have extended my stay to help out with my mom.  My sister-in-law was hoping I could come today.  I really didn't see what difference two days would make.  I know everything is chaotic and my family is stressed and panicked a bit.  (Mom may be moving into the home tomorrow (Wednesday)).  Everyone is grappling to get everything ready for her move - doctor's visit, evaluations, packing and moving her furniture, etc., and I know I could be of help.

At the same time, I can't just pick up and leave.  I have obligations and duties here with my husband.  I told my sister-in-law so.  She never responded, so I don't know how she felt about it, but my sister gave me a call and applauded me for standing up for myself and said she understood why I feel the way I feel.  She said I've taken care of Mom for so long, and that she and my siblings have got to be able to handle things without me.  Her words: "You've done more for Mom in the last four years than all of us put together."  Whether that's true or not, I sure appreciate the sentiment and am glad to know that at least somebody has my back.  She indicated my other sister probably feels the same way, too.

This isn't to say my brother and sister-in-law don't.  I'm sure when my sister-in-law made the request for me to come early, she was just feeling overwhelmed and stressed.  But I did feel guilty for choosing not to come early even thought I knew it was the right thing to do.  But my sister assuaged my feelings of guilt, and I sincerely appreciate that.

As for Mom, she came home from the hospital today.  She apparently was being childish and difficult when my sister was trying to get her to eat.  She was also absolutely convinced she was not in her house (yes, the house she has lived in for 50 years) and wouldn't take her gloves and coat off because she had no intention of staying.  She took a tour of her own house, and while much of it looked identical to her REAL house, she was adamant that it was not.  I'm hoping she will take to her new home at the assisted living facility better, although I have a feeling she will not...at least, not right away.

We're all exhausted, though, and it will be better for both her and us in the long run.  Expensive, though.  But better.

Can't wait to go back and enter the fray.

My Sister

I don’t know how much I will be able to blog in the near future. School has started up again, and I expect to be pretty busy pretty soon, so the free time I use to blog will be not be as readily available as it has been recently. But I will blog when I can.

I wanted to talk about my older sister. We’ve generally been close through the years we’ve been alive. She was one of my best friends in 1990, when I was first coming to terms with my feelings before I gained my testimony of the LDS Church and was the first family member I ever told about my sexual attractions. She did not handle it well at all, and we became estranged for a time. Eventually, I decided not to pursue my homosexual attractions and became active in the church, and eventually, we reconciled and all was forgiven and forgotten. I wouldn’t say we’re as close as we were once upon a time, but we’re still quite close and tell each other just about everything.

I recently wrote her to tell her of my predicament regarding my feelings towards the church and Jonah. She responded with the following two emails, which I am just quoting parts of:

I've made more than my share of mistakes concerning our relationship - I am not willing to blow it again. And if there is more that comes between you and Jonah - well, good for you - to a degree. No, I don't support your decision, but if it's the way to happiness than go for it - though we both know that the happiness will only be temporary. There's other issues that will arise - does in every relationship - ours [hers and her husband’s] happens to be finances and spending time with the children - all six of them. Nothings perfect. And as we know the eternal rewards are not what we personally seek after . . . I don't know what to tell you. But I'm not mad at you…[and] I would rather see you happy in a relationship that makes you comfortable than a false front. I love you. I wish I was a better help than I have been.

and

I want you to be happy, Cody. It's hard to be battling with yourself all the time. And perhaps the battle will continue either way you go. Sometimes life would be so much easier if we were more ignorant.

I've heard it said that the loneliest people are generally the ones that are spiritually in tune - or was it the other way around? I don't want you to be lonely. Loneliness sucks! Even more so than problems in a relationship - those can generally be resolved.

I thought it was interesting how different her response is than what it was several years ago. Of course, she’s also had several years to sit with my issues.

I also wrote the following email to my immediate family and my former bishop, who is a very close friend:

This is an extremely difficult letter for me to write. I don't know how to express what I'm feeling right now, but I will try. I first off want to let all of you know that I love you very much and the last thing I ever want to do is upset or hurt or disappoint any of you. You are my family, and I love you so much.

You all know that I struggle with homosexual feelings and have for most of my life. Just like you, I do not understand why these feelings are mine and why this is my lot in life, but they are, and it is. I have tried for so much of my life to do the right thing, and I have tried ardently to live as I felt the Lord commanded me to. Yet no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, no matter how eagerly I fight, I cannot seem to win this battle. In fact, the battle just gets harder and harder as each year of my life passes, and I am exhausted. I have read my scriptures, magnified my callings, paid my tithing, attended my meetings, applied lessons I've heard into my life, counseled with my church leaders, gone to counseling, tried to stay away from things that might negatively influenced me, attended the temple, fasted, and done all the things I have been taught and advised to do. I've tried to apply the atonement in my life to the best of my ability. Furthermore, I have suppressed my feelings, hidden my desires, and pretended to be someone I feel I've never really been. And it's exhausting. The war that wages in my heart is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. It's so wearing when you're battling yourself.

I am not a bad person. I'm the same person I've always been; the person that you love as a son, brother, or friend. I try so hard to do the best I can to be the best person I can be and because I'm constantly told by the Church (and I guess the Lord) that acting on my feelings that seem so natural to me is sinful, I wonder how I can deal with it anymore. I'm told that marriage and an eternal family is God's plan for me, and yet it doesn't compute in my wiring, and I wonder where I fit in this glorious plan of happiness.

The fact is, I do love the Church (and I even believe it's true). But I sometimes wonder if I have the faith and endurance to do what I've been commanded to do. So much doesn't make sense to me anymore, and it is no longer clear to me what the right thing to do is.

My friend, Jonah, and I have become close, and I felt impressed to share my feelings about how I really feel about him. I never meant to fall in love with Jonah, but the fact of the matter is that I have. I know it's hard for all of you to understand, but we are in love with each other. And I don't understand why God has put us on each other's paths or why so many things have happened in our relationship to bring us so close together or why we have to have so much in common or why we have to make each other so happy when we're around each other or why it's so wrong for two people of the same sex to love each other, but all these things exist. I feel like my soul is being torn because I have such love for both my family and the Church but an equally deep love for my friend, Jonah.

The last thing I want to do is displease or upset anyone. Not you. Not Jonah. Not God. But I really don't know what to do anymore. I've been hiding so long behind this facade of who I ought to be rather than who I actually feel that I am. I've pretended publicly to not have feelings that I have privately.

Telling Jonah how I felt was so liberating and felt right. Being with him feels right. Why? Can someone explain that to me? Why do I feel giddy and happy when I'm with him? Why do I feel such a connection with him? And why is it such a sin for two people who love each other to be together? It's never made sense to me. Sometimes I feel like I'm getting mixed messages from the Lord; that I'm in some sort of bizarre science experiment. And I don't know what God wants from me anymore. I try so hard to be righteous in the eyes of my religion, but my heart pulls me in other places.

Rest assured, Jonah and I haven't done anything contrary to the Lord' commandments. And, in fact, Jonah, who is a very spiritual and Christian person himself, wants me to take all the time I need to think about what I really want in life.

All I know is that I deeply love both my religion and this guy and all of you. And I feel very conflicted because Jonah makes me very happy, and the religion I deeply love, which has given me some of my greatest attributes, doesn't seem to be meeting my needs the way I wish it would, and I don't understand why.

I guess the main point of this email is that I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what the future holds for me or what the right decision is anymore. I pray about it constantly, and I'm still thinking and mulling. I don't expect you to understand or agree with me if I make a choice that is contrary to the Church's teachings nor do I expect you to support that decision, but I hope you'll still love and support me no matter what choice I make. I just wanted you to know that I'm at a really weird crossroads in my life, and in many ways it feels like exactly where I'm supposed to be. I don't know what I'm going to do, and I'm sorry if that upsets you, and I hope you can forgive me for that. Believe you me, this is not a choice that I will make lightly or quickly, nor is it a choice that hasn't already been a part of my life for many years (the only difference is now I have a reason to make it).

I truly am sorry to upset you (and I'm sure I have), but I wanted you to know where I currently am and what I'm facing. These last couple of years at [college] have been among the happiest I've had in some time. I love you all so much.

Pray for me.

Love,

Cody

Jonah wrote a very lovely email to me last night which I won’t put here because I don’t want to embarrass him (not that he’d be embarrassed; after all, you are just a bunch of strangers); at least, not without his permission. But it was a very sweet declaration of love. I liked it very much.