2020 - Gratitude Day #7 - Kerry's Siblings

 Gratitude Day #7 - Kerry's Siblings

Today I am grateful for Kerry's brothers and sisters.

Kerry has five brothers and five sisters, and I have enjoyed relationships with nearly all of them. Only one had passed on before I ever met Kerry, so I didn't get to enjoy a relationship with him. But, I surely know about them.

When I first met them, it was foreign to have people in my own age group around me that I could count as relatives. My own parents were old enough to be my grandparents. My sisters were old enough to have been my mother. My cousins were the ages of my sisters.

I had nobody my age around me, which is probably why I have always been more comfortable around older people. This was new ground for me, and I had a bit of trouble keeping everyone straight. Then, when you add their spouses...

Let me tell you about them.

Bill: I never got to meet Bill. He had joined the Army, and was killed in a Jeep accident in Germany when Kerry was just 13 years old. It devastated the family to lose their older brother. However, every group picture that was ever taken of the entire family included a framed photo of Bill. His place in the family was evident by this loving gesture.

Steve: This is the brother who just passed away in August. We found out the evening of our virtual family reunion. Steve's profound grief at the loss of his older brother never went away. Shortly after Bill's death, Steve served and LDS Mission in Nauvoo, Illinois, and returned to be sent to Viet Nam. His wife and four children were such a pleasure to be around at our reunions.

Content: She has always possessed that nurturing part of womanhood as the oldest daughter. She served her LDS Mission to Japan at the same time Kerry was serving in the Delaware/Maryland Mission. Her husband and five children, including one from her husband's previous marriage have been good and contributing adults in the world.

David: David is one of those strong men that hides a gentle heart. His wife Martha was in the Tabernacle Choir for twenty years, and their seven children are scattered around the west, and often communicate with Aunt Peggy. David served his LDS Mission in Finland.

Kerry: Well, we all know about Mr. Kerry. He will have his own post at the end of the month. I will say that our four children have grown up to become our good friends.

Joy: Joy and her husband Reed are nearing the end of their fundraising bike ride on Route 66 to raise money for ALS. Joy can do just about anything, and amazes me at her talent and logic. Her four children are amazing, as well.

Gay: Gay just didn't get to live long enough. She is the one who died of ALS, and I can't tell you how much I miss her. Her artistic talent extended from sculpting to being the set director on movies. If you see the Mount Rushmore scene in "Overboard" - that was her creation. Her husband took such good and tender care of her. She served her LDS Mission in Calgary, Alberta.

Christopher: I have had some of the best conversations with Chris. He is retired military as a Colonel, and has seven wonderful children. The sons followed their father right into military service. Her served his LDS Mission in Bolivia.

Kelly: Following his retirement from the Army as a Bird Colonel, he has continued to work for the State Department with several overseas assignments. I love reading his wife's detailed descriptions of their explorations and adventures of the country where they are assigned. Their four children have also done amazing things with their lives. He served his LDS Mission in Germany.

Charm: Charm's artistic talents are every bit as stellar as her sisters'. I have always been astounded at her simplicity in living, and how to make do with little. When she visited with us several years ago, I watched her prepare such delicious food with a simplistic fair. Her daughter spent many years training in ballet, and her poses were worthy of framing and journal publication. She served her LDS Mission in Argentina.

Harmony: This woman listens with her heart before she speaks. She is an Adult-gerontology Nurse Practitioner, but also possesses the artistic talent that runs through the Lauritzen family. She served her LDS Mission in Finland.

So, these are the brothers and sisters I inherited when I married into the Lauritzen family. This is a good, good family that has always made me feel like I am part of them.

And for that, I am grateful.

 

2020 - Gratitude Day #6 - The Sisterhood

 Gratitude Day #6 - The Sisterhood

Today I am grateful for my three sisters.

They don't let me get away with anything. Anything at all.

Though they were nearly grown when I was born, our years have caught up the age gap between us. Kerry asked me once what it was like to have had four mothers. I told him I've never known anything different.

Two of my sisters were born in eastern Kentucky, and the one closest in age to me was born in West Virginia. All of them have told me of the extreme poverty they lived in, and they have all expressed their gratitude at my parents who made their lives as good as they possibly could. Not easy. But, good.

Fern is my oldest sister. She was in Nursing School when I was born. When mom went into labor they sent word to her, and she was present at my birth. Actually, she was the one who held me first, for mom was still under ether. She worked as a Registered Nurse her entire life. She and her husband built there dream home on Catawba Island in Lake Erie.

Jean was also in Nursing School when I was born, but not in our town. She lives in the same town here where I live. She was the one I called the most when I was raising my own family. She lives on a large farm in a house that was built in the mid-1800s. Lots of family dinners were enjoyed there.

Betty was age 16 when I was born. She used her nickel to call the hospital to see what mom had. Then, she joined her friends and kept on swimming at 10:30 pm. She raised her family of two sons and a daughter in Akron. We talk every single day, and laugh at our memories.

Today I am grateful for my three sisters.

They don't let me get away with anything. Anything at all.

Though they were nearly grown when I was born, our years have caught up the age gap between us. Kerry asked me once what it was like to have had four mothers. I told him I've never known anything different.

Two of my sisters were born in eastern Kentucky, and the one closest in age to me was born in West Virginia. All of them have told me of the extreme poverty they lived in, and they have all expressed their gratitude at my parents who made their lives as good as they possibly could. Not easy. But, good.

Fern is my oldest sister. She was in Nursing School when I was born. When mom went into labor they sent word to her, and she was present at my birth. Actually, she was the one who held me first, for mom was still under ether. She worked as a Registered Nurse her entire life. She and her husband built there dream home on Catawba Island in Lake Erie.

Jean was also in Nursing School when I was born, but not in our town. She lives in the same town here where I live. She was the one I called the most when I was raising my own family. She lives on a large farm in a house that was built in the mid-1800s. Lots of family dinners were enjoyed there.

Betty was age 16 when I was born. She used her nickel to call the hospital to see what mom had. Then, she joined her friends and kept on swimming at 10:30 pm. She raised her family of two sons and a daughter in Akron. We talk every single day, and laugh at our memories.

Many of you have read of our genealogy adventures. Sometimes all four of us have made those trips, but it's often Fern and Betty and myself. Jean has just never gotten into genealogy, though she does like the stories. As all of us have aged, I fear those trips have come to an end. However, all it takes is for one of us to mention one thing from a trip, and the memories will come flooding back.

See if it works. Betty...cheese sandwich.

Now, we wait.

All three of my sisters are known for behaving like a lady. You will never anything coarse, or vulgar, or unbecoming in their behavior when you're around them. Class. Pure class. They learned it from Mom.

My sisters are precious to me, and I am fortunate to still have them in my life. I have often wondered why in the world I came into the world so many years after them. 

I don't know. 

But, it has all worked out.

Gratitude Day #5 - Kerry's Father

 Gratitude Day #5 - Kerry's Father

Today I am grateful for Kerry's father, Orson William Lauritzen (OWL).

Orson was one of the best men I ever knew. He also came from quite a large family, #10 out of 12. His heritage is Scandinavian on his father's, and English on his mother's side. 

Orson was a man that you could always count on. If he committed himself to a task, you never had to worry about it again. He was that kind of a man.

He served his country by reporting to Biloxi, Mississippi shortly after his wedding to Shirley. From there his service extended to the Pacific Theater on the Naval Transporter Pacific Okinawa Campaign 1945.

He worked hard to support his own family of eleven children, attending night school for eleven years to earn his CPA from UCLA. He taught his children to value education, for in nearly every letter Kerry received from him while he (Kerry) served a mission in the Delaware/Maryland area, he closed it by saying, "Always keep your mind active and learning." He lived that truth right up to his dying day. From his obituary, we read:

" Orson was an extremely hard worker and a successful businessman. He was instrumental in the preservation of the Ephraim Coop Building. Throughout his life, Orson was a true disciple of Christ and radiated his missionary spirit with zeal. He possessed a great love of God and testimony of the gospel. Orson was sensitive to the prompting of the spirit and never hesitated to serve his fellow man. He served faithfully in many capacities, including bishopric, high counsel, gospel doctrine teacher and seminary teacher."

When Kerry was age 16, Orson and Shirley moved the family from Hacienda Heights, California to central Utah in the Sanpete Valley. The entire family went to work building a beautiful home that sat between Fairview and Mount Pleasant. I can't begin to tell you the memories I have of years visiting in that home. It was a beautiful house. But it was a wonderful home.

When he passed in 2004, that began a new era for Kerry and me. Let me show you the timeline:

1984 - my mom died

2002 - my dad died

2003 - Kerry's mom died

2004 - Kerry's dad died

And, just like that, we became the older generation. 

Orson's love for Shirley, for his family, and for his God was paramount in his life. He knew the scriptures and the gospel better than anyone I knew. But even more than that - he knew how to live what they taught.

I grieved when he died. I grieved hard. He had welcomed me into the family when we first met, and became dear to my heart. He was pleased with Kerry's choice, and I want to live up to that.

Today there is a running conversation in the Lauritzen family - that Kerry looks strikingly like his own father. They will often say that Uncle Kerry and Papa Orson could almost be twins! 

What's even more interesting is that I saw a lot of Peter in Orson. If Peter had lived, I knew what he would have looked like as an older man.

How blessed I am to have had a father-in-law who taught his sons how to treat women, to cherish them, to honor them, and to love that attributes and contributions.

2020 - Gratitude Day #4 - Kerry's mother

 Gratitude day #4 

Today I am grateful for Mr. Kerry's mother.

Shirley Elma Rhoades was one of the most beautiful women I have ever know - both inside and out. Her attitude throughout her life was "the best is yet to come".

From the moment I stepped off the tarmac at the Salt Lake City airport, I knew I was stepping into foreign ground. Kerry had already moved back to his mission field in Maryland, and was working at the Washington Temple. Other siblings had married, with the majority living in Utah.

Kerry would be the first to marry and live all the way across the country. I believe Shirley thought she would have her family near her, but Kerry had already decided that he would probably not live there. Meeting and marrying a girl from the midwest may have been a bit hard for his mom to take.

But, I never knew it. Throughout our years together she would become one of my dearest friends.

One of the most memorable times I can remember was when we were visiting their huge home in central Utah. I can't remember if there was a wedding or some other event going on. But I do remember several of the grandchildren all lined up in the ballroom having a slumber party. I had gone in to check on my four children.

I'm sort of jealous that they had 40+ cousins.

As I was nearing one of the doors that exited out onto a roof-type patio, I heard voices from the yard below. Something intrigued me about those voices, and I paused to listen for a moment. 

Shirley was talking with her daughter Gay. Gay was such a talented artist, and had a knack for putting colors, textures, etc. together in a way I never could. Shirley was asking for her opinion on something she wanted to do. Gay was giving her advice.

Let me repeat. Kerry's mother was asking her daughter for decorating advice.

This was totally astounding to me! Remember, I grew up not only as the youngest child, but as an only child. Nobody in my family had ever asked my opinion on anything, and I just assumed "babies" didn't carry a lot of credibility.

I stood and listened a little bit more - and learned. It was really eavesdropping, for I can't tell you to this day what they were even talking about. The whole scenario left a lasting impression that I haven't forgotten to this day. It helped me to realize how valuable my own children's opinions can be.

Through the years, Shirley would often call me when she knew Kerry was at work. She wanted to see how I was doing, for she knew what it was like to raise a young and busy family. I cherish those talks with her.

One of those talks took place in 2002 between Christmas and New Year's Day. She had been coughing, and I asked her if she had been sick. She said she just couldn't seem to get rid of that lingering cough. By 28 Feb 2003, she had passed. That conversation was the last one I had with her, for cancer took her quickly.

Let me share part of her obituary with you...

"Shirley graced life with elegance and had an exquisite flair for taste and beauty. Her remarkable talent and creativity inspired others to develop their own talents and special traits. Her driving force spearheaded many remarkable contributions to the community, including the Sanpete Community Theater, the Ephraim Co-op Building Restoration and the Scandinavian Festival. As an adventurous spirit who loved to travel, she explored over 40 countries and every continent except Antarctica. Compassion and culture were her hallmarks, and generosity and love were her gifts. Her family was most precious to her, as were her many friends from around the world."

When she passed, the world lost a true lady. How many women do you know behave themselves as true ladies today?

I am grateful she was Kerry's mom, who raised him from a fine boy into a fine man - the best I have ever known.

2020 - Gratitude Day #3 - The Right to Vote

 Gratitude Day #3

Today is election day for the United States, and I am grateful for the right to vote.

My mom would have age seven when women were given the right to vote. It was very important for both her and dad to have their Voter Registration Card. It was on or near my eighteenth birthday that they took me to the Board of Elections, and I became a registered voter.

There was one caveat. We keep our voting preferences private. And, I do mean private.

I'm not sure if I ever knew who my parents voted for. Mom used to tell me of the trouble she witnessed in both Kentucky and West Virginia on election day, so it was best if you kept your cards close to your chest. 

One scene bears out strongly in my mind. I was a young girl, and had gone to a funeral with my parents. I don't recall if it was my grandfather or one of mom's two brothers. She lost them three years in a row - all in November.

All of the men had gathered in the dining room. I was young and squirrely, and likely bored. But, the conversation then turned to politics and religion, and the talk became heated. Mom gave me "eye" to go on upstairs and get ready for bed. I did, but I still wanted to listen. So, I snuck over to the top of the stairs and peaked through the banister. 

What a show! Fists were waving! People were hollering! And, I got a little bit scared.

Then, the arguing went to the living room - to the front porch - to the front yard - right out into the road.

And, I was bouncing around the upstairs like I was in a pinball machine, running from window to window.

Of course, nothing was settled. 

So, this is why you do not see me post on social media, or even discuss with friends who we vote for. Some people may think they know...and have even called me names on Facebook. It did nothing but make me lose respect for them.

We took three of our four children to the Board of Elections on or near the eighteenth birthday. With one of them, we had just returned from Utah, had a day and a half to get that child ready and celebrate their birthday before the Army Recruiter picked them up.

So today, with a country in turmoil, slinging accusations, demeaning others for who they are supporting, and generally on edge - I am grateful for the opportunity I have to go and cast my ballot. And, very grateful for parents who expected me to.

The only thing I will change for next time is that I will not vote as early as I did. I have no allegiance to any one person, but I do for certain platforms. And, I may just change my mind as we get closer to election day, and more true colors come out.

2020 - Gratitude Day #2 - My Dad

Gratitude Day #2

Today I am grateful for my dad, Chester Lee Clemens.

I have a feeling my mom kept my dad in line. They both came from eastern Kentucky, but dad was likely one of those little roughneck Kentucky boys that got into all sorts of mischief with his brothers. Mom was one of those strong Kentucky women who had been surrounded by brothers. She knew how they worked.

Like Mr. Kerry, Dad was #5 out of eleven children. There were two siblings who wouldn't make it to adulthood. One was a brother who died of whooping cough. The other was a sister who had a pot of beans turn over onto her and her sister, who was holding her. That sweet little 3 1/2 year girl would suffer with burns for three days before she died.

Dad and mom married in 1932. The Depression. He only made it to 6th grade, having spent three years in 4th grade. His choices for work were limited, but he made up for it by being dependable and savvy. While raising his young family of three girls, he was drafted into the US Navy, and sent to Pearl Harbor.

When I came along many years later, I'm sure it wasn't what mom and dad planned for. I was raised like an only child. But, dad found a good use for me. 

Besides being the bishop of our local congregation, he worked full time at Westinghouse and owned his own business - refrigeration and air conditioning repair. He often took me on those service calls with him to each me many things I use today.

One important lesson that I often mention is how carefully he would take things apart without being rushed. He would lay down a towel and begin to remove nuts, washers, screws, etc. in the exact order. He kept his tools good and clean. After examining what wasn't working, he would replace them in the same order, because he hadn't just jumbled them into a pile.

One day he taught me a valuable lesson. Don't be afraid to take something apart to see why it isn't working. Look for the problem. Fix it. Put it all back together.

It works for washers and dryers and stoves and refrigerators. And, it works for life.

Yesterday I related how my mom taught me a valuable lesson about people's hearts. I also learned something from my dad. Compassion.

Dad worked on people's appliances all over town. The neighborhood didn't matter. One day he told me he was going to a friend's new restaurant because a compressor had been acting up. Did I want to go? Sure!

We pulled into a small place that wasn't actually a restaurant, but a place where you could place an order for takeout. Soon a large black man came out and gave dad and me a big hug, and told him he was so glad he had come. He didn't want to lose his food. The name of the place - Johnny's Rib House. (I thought it had been Johnny's Rib Cage when I was younger.) It seems like he and dad had been friends for awhile.

Dad went in to go to work and I followed him. By now I had learned that I had nothing to fear because someone had a different skin color. Mom had taught me that earlier. Remember, I was just a young girl. This was the 1960s. I didn't quite understand all I was seeing on the news.

Dad fixed the compressor. As we got into the truck, Johnny came out with a huge package of ribs to give to Dad, who took them graciously. And, we drove off.

I asked Dad why Johnny had given him such a big package of ribs, and he told me that Johnny didn't have a lot of money since his business was fairly new. He had asked Dad if he could pay him in ribs. Dad said "Of course you can!" 

Dad taught me compassion. And, I love ribs like no other meat, for many reasons.

I always felt safe around Dad. I never had to worry that he would be anything other than a father to me. In his later years, he lived with us. I gave him certain responsibilities around the house so he could feel it was his home, too. One day, I showed him my 15-generation pedigree chart, and went over some of the names that had been discovered since he and mom had sort of turned all of the researching over to us. He asked about so many of the names, and I would tell him which ones fought in the revolution, who was sued for adultery, which sides they fought on in the Civil War, etc.

He looked at me and said, "You know, I'm probably going to be meeting these people long before you do. I guess I better know as much as I can about them so when we're introduced I will know their story."

Dad was good. And today, I am grateful that he was my father.

2020 - Gratitude Day #1 - My Mom

Today I am grateful for my mom, Ida Stevens Clemens.

It's November 1st. And, it's been a rough year.

Today is my mother's birthday, and if she were alive she would be age 107.  

She had a long and good life, though the early years were clouded by a pandemic, just like ours is today.

Mom was only five years old during the 1918 flu epidemic. She wrote in her journal about a smell of burnt autumn leaves that seemed to fill the air, with a haze following. Soon, people began getting sick. Two of her young brothers would die with the flu, and her mother's sister Harriett would lose three within a month.

Her father built coffins for people. Both my mom and my grandmother got down with the flu and couldn't get out of bed. When she finally felt well she leaned up on one arm to look out the window and down the hill, where she saw many caskets laying in a row. There were bodies in them, but no one was well enough to bury the dead.

In 2017 or 2018, there was a television show on one of the education channels that nearly repeated mom's experience about the flu. I contacted them and told them I had a firsthand account if they would like a copy. Yes! Little did my mom know that her rough little journal would end up on sites that can be viewed around the world.

Mom worked hard. She was the oldest of a large family of boys, and told me I didn't have to be stronger than them - just louder. I fear the boy or man who would think to get into a tussle with her.

I want to focus on something my mom taught me when I was a young girl. My parents served others for as long as I can remember. One day she told me she was going to help someone who had just had surgery, so I was to get my coat and be ready to go. (My parents never left me with anyone. I went everywhere with them.)

We arrived at a woman's house that did not look familiar to me. As we stepped inside, her home was warm and inviting, but mom headed straight back the hall to her bedroom. There laid a large black woman that I didn't know, but mom did. I believe she was a member of our church.

We positioned her and changed her sheets and fluffed her pillows. Mom combed her hair. She was experiencing some gas from the surgery, and mom gave her some ginger ale and told her to lay on her left side, for that helps to release the gas bubbles.

Then, mom told me to trim her fingernails and toenails. I hesitated. She gave me the "look". I trim everyone's nails. As a matter of fact, I trimmed 120 toenails and fingernails every Saturday night when raising my own family. When going on genealogy trips with my sisters they would all line up on the bed with their feet hanging over, just ready for me.

But, I don't think I had ever touched a black person before. It didn't matter. Mom was still giving me the "look".

So, I did. I trimmed them. Filed them. And I rubbed lotion all over her feet and legs. I could look into her face and see how good it felt to her.

Mom and I stopped for coneys and root beer at A&W on the way home, and she told me something I have carried with me to this day. She said I was never to look at someone and make a judgment call because of the color of their skin.

You better be looking at the color of their heart.

So, I am grateful for the mother I was born to so many years ago. I open my mouth, and her words come out. Recently my son told me that when he opens his mouth my words come out.

No, they are the words of generations.