A few months back, we had a sweet little old lady join us in our mission. I would guess that she's probably in her early seventies.
Yesterday at our planning meeting she had a story to tell. It seems that she loves cats and that for many years she has been feeding some feral cats. There's a big tree in a field and there, she has built little shelters for them. She said that she is currently feeding 14 cats.
This past weekend was very stormy and that didn't stop her. She said that as she was returning from the field, that a car stopped and two cute girls got out. They asked her if she was the one that takes care of the cats and she responded that she was. The girls said they would like to help and each of them gave her a one inch stack of bills. (she later counted 150 $1 bills) She thanked the girls and asked what they did to earn the money. They responded that they were pole dancers and strippers.
The little old lady said to us at our meeting, "you know where those bills have been"
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Tranquility
After dropping Nan and Les off for a race, I finished my chores and headed to my favorite therapy spot. As I headed east towards the canyon, I noticed how all the mountains were gold and red. My favorite spot is a bench about two minutes down the Granite Quarry Trail. It has a great view of the mountains across the canyon and you can hear the babble of the creek below. Today the temperature wa...
s mild and I was comfortable wearing a jacket. I only stayed for 30 minutes and although there were a few cars at the trailhead, I only saw one person while sitting on my bench. It was so peaceful and the soft breeze carried a promise of warming with it. Looking at the rugged canyon with the high cliffs and being surrounded by the colorful trees, it's hard to imagine that there was once a little town there while the quarry was in operation. I've always loved Spring the best, but this year with all the colors and with my favorite bench on the trail, I've come to realize that perhaps Fall if fast becoming my favorite time of year.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The Bridge
During the spring of 1983, we lived in a nice neighborhood in Sandy. We had always liked the neighborhood, partly because of the location, but also because of our LDS ward. The people there were more than neighbors. They were truly brothers and sisters. They loved one another and showed it by their actions.
There was a family in our ward with young daughter that had been sick for a long time and wasn't expected to live much longer. We, along with other neighbors, did the usual thing...take in meals, offer assistance when needed etc.
At last the young girl passed away. Of course the parents were heartbroken but maintained faith that they would see her again in the eternities.
The funeral was planed and was to be in Mayfield Utah...a couple of hours South of where we lived. They were from Mayfield and wanted her interned there.
(I was aware of where Mayfield was because I had, many times, driven through there on the way to 12 mile canyon which connected with Skyline Drive on the top of the mountain. My first time there was probably when I was around 12 years old.)
At this time we had recently purchased a new 12 passenger van. We volunteered to car pool some of the ward members to the funeral. The bishopric and their wives wanted to ride with us. The bishop was to conduct the funeral.
The trip was uneventful until we left Gunnison and were a few miles from Mayfield. We had timed things just right and should get to the church about 30 minutes before the funeral was to begin. Then we came upon a sign that said "road closed" and another that said "bridge closed". We proceeded further, recognizing that it would put us far behind by going back to Gunnison, then North to the other road that could take us to Mayfield.
1983 was a year of heavy snowpack and there were many floods throughout the area. This area was no exception. When we came to the bridge, there were small barricades there to stop the traffic. We got out and looked at the swollen stream and how it had washed out much of the dirt and material that was around and under the supports of the bridge. The water was literally roaring under the bridge. We walked across the bridge and back and decided to give it a try. Rather than put everyone's lives at risk, we moved the barricades and rather quickly and very nervously, I alone drove across the bridge. Everyone else walked across. We replaced the barricades, everyone got in the van and we got the church on time.
The people in Mayfield were more than gracious. After the funeral and grave side service, they served us with a nice meal before out trip home
Not too long after that, we move to our present location. We have fond memories of that time in our lives.
There was a family in our ward with young daughter that had been sick for a long time and wasn't expected to live much longer. We, along with other neighbors, did the usual thing...take in meals, offer assistance when needed etc.
At last the young girl passed away. Of course the parents were heartbroken but maintained faith that they would see her again in the eternities.
The funeral was planed and was to be in Mayfield Utah...a couple of hours South of where we lived. They were from Mayfield and wanted her interned there.
(I was aware of where Mayfield was because I had, many times, driven through there on the way to 12 mile canyon which connected with Skyline Drive on the top of the mountain. My first time there was probably when I was around 12 years old.)
At this time we had recently purchased a new 12 passenger van. We volunteered to car pool some of the ward members to the funeral. The bishopric and their wives wanted to ride with us. The bishop was to conduct the funeral.
The trip was uneventful until we left Gunnison and were a few miles from Mayfield. We had timed things just right and should get to the church about 30 minutes before the funeral was to begin. Then we came upon a sign that said "road closed" and another that said "bridge closed". We proceeded further, recognizing that it would put us far behind by going back to Gunnison, then North to the other road that could take us to Mayfield.
1983 was a year of heavy snowpack and there were many floods throughout the area. This area was no exception. When we came to the bridge, there were small barricades there to stop the traffic. We got out and looked at the swollen stream and how it had washed out much of the dirt and material that was around and under the supports of the bridge. The water was literally roaring under the bridge. We walked across the bridge and back and decided to give it a try. Rather than put everyone's lives at risk, we moved the barricades and rather quickly and very nervously, I alone drove across the bridge. Everyone else walked across. We replaced the barricades, everyone got in the van and we got the church on time.
The people in Mayfield were more than gracious. After the funeral and grave side service, they served us with a nice meal before out trip home
Not too long after that, we move to our present location. We have fond memories of that time in our lives.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Marbles
Previous time:
I'm old enough to remember that in my youth, we used to play marbles. There were cats eyes, colored marbles, agates, and the most coveted were the flints. We might play keepsies with most of these, but never with the flints, they were a treasure to us.
Present time:
After our volunteer work at the state prison last night, as drove to the corner, I asked Nan "right or left". It is just a question and one I knew the answer to. She always says right. The left turn takes us to the freeway, the turn right takes us past the prison grounds and an industrial area followed by a winding road through a rural area mingled with an upscale area of homes.
We were quiet as we drove along together, each alone with our thoughts about the things we heard in our meeting with the inmates.
My thoughts suddenly changed directions as we crossed the Jordan river. How many times I had been to that very spot, fishing. I thought about my teenage years when my dad, brothers-in-law and I had gone fishing at different places on the Jordan river. Sometimes the fish weren't biting but most of the time the misquitoes were. I remembered one time in particular when those little bugs were so hungry that they biting me through my shirt.
One time I was fishing near where the water comes out of the lake. There was a little mud bar kind of jutting out in the river. I fished off the tip of that bar and had the best of luck. There must have been a school of catfish there, because I was catching one after the other, no waiting, just reeling them in. I finally got tired and went home.
The next day, I thought I would try that same spot. When I got there, there were two men already at the tip of the mud bar. They were both catching the fish as fast as they could get their lines in the water. They were both laughing and giggling like a couple of little girls at a tea party. I had almost as good a time as they did, just watching them.
My thoughts turned to my dad and how much he loved to fish.
My father once asked his uncle Will (who loved to hunt and fish), "what will you do when you get to the other side and there is no hunting and fishing"?
His uncle thought for a minute, then answered..."when I was a young boy, there was nothing better than a game of marbles...but I grew up!
Just saying!
I'm old enough to remember that in my youth, we used to play marbles. There were cats eyes, colored marbles, agates, and the most coveted were the flints. We might play keepsies with most of these, but never with the flints, they were a treasure to us.
Present time:
After our volunteer work at the state prison last night, as drove to the corner, I asked Nan "right or left". It is just a question and one I knew the answer to. She always says right. The left turn takes us to the freeway, the turn right takes us past the prison grounds and an industrial area followed by a winding road through a rural area mingled with an upscale area of homes.
We were quiet as we drove along together, each alone with our thoughts about the things we heard in our meeting with the inmates.
My thoughts suddenly changed directions as we crossed the Jordan river. How many times I had been to that very spot, fishing. I thought about my teenage years when my dad, brothers-in-law and I had gone fishing at different places on the Jordan river. Sometimes the fish weren't biting but most of the time the misquitoes were. I remembered one time in particular when those little bugs were so hungry that they biting me through my shirt.
One time I was fishing near where the water comes out of the lake. There was a little mud bar kind of jutting out in the river. I fished off the tip of that bar and had the best of luck. There must have been a school of catfish there, because I was catching one after the other, no waiting, just reeling them in. I finally got tired and went home.
The next day, I thought I would try that same spot. When I got there, there were two men already at the tip of the mud bar. They were both catching the fish as fast as they could get their lines in the water. They were both laughing and giggling like a couple of little girls at a tea party. I had almost as good a time as they did, just watching them.
My thoughts turned to my dad and how much he loved to fish.
My father once asked his uncle Will (who loved to hunt and fish), "what will you do when you get to the other side and there is no hunting and fishing"?
His uncle thought for a minute, then answered..."when I was a young boy, there was nothing better than a game of marbles...but I grew up!
Just saying!
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