:Family Matters

Joy is within two weeks of her baby’s due date which means it could happen anytime, or not, depending on the stage of moon or what ever it is that decides these things. It will be a relief, as with all pregnancies, when they are this far along, to have the new arrival safely here and have all be well with mother and child. Once the blessed event takes place I will head home and rejoin MGH, who I dearly miss, hoping that I have been of some help to her and the children while I have been here with them. I will admit, though that I am beginning to feel ‘trunky’ with a a strong desire to pack my bags in preparation for that day even though its still a few weeks off.

Her trip to the Dr. today revealed that she is still not any closer to delivery than she was last week and that she should continue ‘as is’ until the next appointment which will allow her little one time to acquire the finishing touches nature intended. This was a little anti-climatic as she has been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions all week and has begun the spraddle-legged walk that means the baby has moved into position and is awaiting his exit signal and we had really been expecting him to tell her that the time was at hand to head over to the hospital and get that baby here.

She returned to work Monday July 22, as her two week leave was up which, because of the baby, didn’t allow her to visit far away places with strange sounding names–much to her chagrin and regret. It did, however, allow her time to sort through boxes and hang pictures etc. as she continues to get what Kendra refers to as “Mama’s little house”. organized and ready for the new arrival. She is required to work until delivery when she will be given six weeks to spend with her new born and recover physically from the birth she returns to work again. Hopefully there will be a place for the baby at the child care center on the base. (She can’t actually apply until the baby arrives which means fingers are crossed that this will indeed happen.) The Dr. has had her on “no blow, no go” for the last month as playing her oboe caused her to have contractions and I am not exactly sure why she couldn’t travel but that is how the cookie has crumbled for her.

I, however, left her for a week and went up to Michigan to visit Brooks and Nancy and be with MGH who was there as well. They have a lovely home and went out of their way to see that we were comfortable and well cared for. BA has acquired a new black Nissan Moreno which is barely broken in and still has that new car smell to it. He turned over the keys to his ‘beater’ the little gray Hundai that has been his faithful ’steed’ for the last 4 or 5 years (time gets away from me here and you will need to ask him when he purchased that car to find out if I am anywhere near the ballpark with this one).

We drove to Wisconsin where we were able to visit with the BAD family. Ford rode his motorcycle from his home outside Pardeeville, WI and ate dinner with us all. He stayed overnight and for awhile we thought he might wait until we got home from church so we could visit some more but he got to thinking about all the work he needed to get done at home and decideded to head on out but he did take time to give Franklin a ride around the block on the motorcycle that managed to both thrill and terrify Franklin at the same time even though Uncle Ford was very careful with him. One of the sweetest stories I heard from Ford was when he was telling us about Kim’s four year old grand-daughter who calls him Grandpa Ford. With a laugh he said, I tell her, No, no, I’m not grandpa Ford–that was my grandpa”. But he is, of course. Time moves us all along and to that little girl he will always be Grandpa Ford just as my dad was his Grandpa Ford.

Yesterday Joy took me, along with Kendra and Jordan, to the French Quarter in Neawlin’s which is how the natives pronounce it. She was feeling regretful because we hadn’t done a lot of sightseeing while I was with her and she really wanted me to say that I had seen the most famous part of the city. I enjoyed the visit but couldn’t help think of Wisconsin Dells with its small shops selling trinkets/candy/clothing to entice the ‘mark’, which is how the visitor who has come to see the sights of ones fair city is often considered–a big walking pocket book waiting to be drained. Along with the usual trappings there muscians quietly playing jazz in the covered outdoor pavilions of the eateries. One older gentleman sat surrounded by drums and assorted instruments which he played while singing the blues to the patrons which we also got to enjoy as we strolled past (it was to warm to walk quickly). Jordan got a big kick out of putting a penny along with two quarters into a machine that after ingesting the money flattened the penny and stamped it with the store logo which in this case was Cafe Du Monde where we had stopped for French beginets which are square doughnuts without the holes covered with an inch or more of powdered sugar which renders them impossible to eat without getting covered/sticky but are non the less a favored tradition for those who visit the Quarter.

How thoughtful of Joy to plan this trip even though it meant going after work for her. Once again I tip my hat to her.

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When we returned from our ‘grand tour’ in 1964 MGH was without work as he had decided to leave the teaching profession after nine years in that field. He had sent out numerous resumes before we left but had not received any response which left us in a very uncomfortable position financially as we had a large family to provide for as well as a very large hospital bill which was incurred when his first wife was hospitalized for two months in 1959 for bacterial endocarditis which had to be satisfied as well. Much to our great relief he was offered employment by Iowa State University to work in their extension service in Monona County, Iowa as a youth specialist.

We made the move in August along with a small herd of cows which meant that not only did we need to find housing for ourselves but for the livestock as well. Upon inquiring MGH was told that a gentleman by the name of Wilbur James (that’s how I remember the name but MGH who also serves as my editor tells me it was Jaynes) might rent a house to us that was about three miles from the extension office located in Onawa, Iowa. When approached Mr. James/Jaynes reluctantly agreed to rent the house/barn to us but bluntly told MGH that the property “was pretty rough” and that he was not prepared to put any money into it as he had a life threatening medical problem that could take him at any time and when he died the property would be sold but if we were willing to take it on those terms he would rent it to us for $35.00 a month. His offer was accepted and we loaded up the seven children and old Skippy the big white shaggy haired farm dog we seemed to have acquired somewhere along the line and started off on our next adventure as a family.

Just as an aside I can remember Skippy sitting on the seat of the U-Haul truck watching with great alertness the country passing by and slobbering down the window as she traveled until she tired and then she would slump down to lie on the seat where she slobbered on the floor. I found this rather amusing but MGH didn’t probably because he was the one had to clean up after her. She rode in the truck because our family vehicle, which was a red 1957 Ford pick-up, was full of children and household goods without an inch of extra room.

The house was a typical farm home of its time. A square two story frame structure with four rooms upstairs and four rooms downstairs complete with an unfinished basement it was long on room but short on amenities. At some point a small bathroom had been inserted complete with a metal shower stall but no tub. The stoves which heated the house were no longer there which meant that we would need to address that issue but felt that we had time to do this as heating wouldn’t be necessary until late September which was about six weeks away. In the meantime MGH was extremely busy with his new responsibilities which included the County Fair with its 4-H livestock competition which he found himself in charge of. As he loved livestock and fairs this was more fun than work but there were a lot of details that needed his immediate attention which meant that he didn’t have a lot of time to solve the problems we were encountering on the home front.

In the process of moving into the house doors were left open which allowed what seemed like all the local insects to come in and check things out. They evidently liked what they found as they hunkered down for the long haul and gave every appearance of setting up permanent residency. Flies seemed to multiply by the minute and were a real nuisance as you can imagine. We recruited the services of Kyle (12) and Mark(9) who had become masters at shooting rubber bands at various objects with an almost 100% accuracy rate which meant they finished honing their skills outside where they were relegated after having zeroed in on a sibling one too many times. When we found that they could hit a fly thereby ending its existence they were pressed into service which they greatly enjoyed until the novelty wore off. Unfortunately, that took place before the fly problem was cleared up so we found it necessary to ‘hire’ them at a penny/dead fly. These little rascals were well on their way to becoming wealthy until it was discovered that doors were being left open to allow a continuous cycle of flies access to our humble abode. At that point we shut down the money spigot and got rid of the ‘remainders’ with the aid of fly spray liberally applied as we left for town one day so that we wouldn’t have to take into our lungs the ‘kiss of death’ that made this chemical stew so lethal and which we hoped would be largely cleared out by the time we returned.

Now we come to the part that I wanted tell you about but felt that you needed some background to more fully understand what happened next. I have been telling you about Grandma Andrus and how she would come for long visits. Well, the dust still hadn’t settled from our moving when she informed us that she was on her way for a visit. Chaos still reigned which was alarming in and of its self to the ones living in the midst of it but perhaps most importantly where where we to find her a place to sleep? MGH was not nearly as worried about this as I was as the philosophy in his family of origin was, “Where there’s heart room there’s home room”. To his mind the house was big which meant there was most certainly some corner open to place a child in which would open a bed for her. While this was true the problem was that the bed rooms where located on the second story which meant that she would have to go up and down stairs on her old legs which would be painful at the least and fatal at the most if she should misstep so we crossed that option off. We finally settled on having her sleep on the twin bed that was being used as a couch by day in the front room of the house. While not very private it would be comfortable and allow her easy access to meals and the bathroom. It also afforded her a central seat to watch all the drama (think soap opera ) that made up our family life.

The poet Bobby Burns nailed it when he said, “The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft astray. . . ” for that is what happened to us that fall in our new home sans heat. An unseasonable cold spell settled it which forced all those at the fair to break out their winter coats/caps/mittens a bit earlier than usual. We did the same and were reasonably comfortable including the youngest child, Sylvia who was a two year old at the time and like most children, before the advent of TV and video games, a perpetual motion machine, which we all had to be if we wanted to stay warm. Unfortunately for Grandma Andrus who was 73 years old, as the cold settled in and we had no way of heating the house it became harder and harder for us to keep her warm. We, being younger, were hoping to outlast the cold feeling sure that warmer days were just around the corner and with the fair over there would be time to tackle the heating problem. It became apparent early on that we weren’t going to be able to wait it out as we watched her lips turn blue and her body shake with cold even though she was wrapped in blankets. Not wanting to lose her and especially on ‘his watch’ MGH took enough time off to scrounge around and came up with a small, used fuel oil stove which was placed in the dining area which helped take the chill off but added a permanent aroma of its own. (You have to have lived with a fuel oil burning stove to appreciated what I am saying here.)

The house did indeed have a few problems most of which we ignored or learned to live with knowing that every month we could survive there put us just a little closer to getting out of debt to LDS Hospital. (This took MGH eleven years but he finally paid them every penny. Upon completion of payment MGH asked for a statement showing that nothing more was owed so that he could settle Mary’s estate. The hospital wrote back and said that they had no record of a Mary E. McAdam Andrus having ever been a patient. . . go figure that one!) The ceiling above the stair landing had broken through because of water damage and allowed building materials to hang down in a rather precarious manner (mostly lath and plaster held together by wallpaper and paste as near as I could tell). It looked horrendous but fortunately never shed any debris on us as we made our way up and down the stairs. When Grandmother Andrus saw the mess she immediately wanted to have it repaired so that it would not be an eyesore as well as preclude anyone getting hurt. She offered to pay for this repair herself which MGH husband declined after expressing his appreciation for her concern about the well-being of his family. He explained that in his opinion it would simply be sending good money after bad which I don’t think she believed but as he was quite adamant she eventually retired to her writing pad where she took solace in reporting what a sad condition she found ‘poor’ DeVon and his family in.

And so, I find myself in an extended visit with our youngest daughter. She has just purchased a cute little home which is much closer to where she works. It is, however, 65 years old and exhibiting some of the problems that can affect an elderly dwelling. This leaves me wanting to help without offending and gaining a much greater appreciation of what the first Grandma Andrus was trying to do for us all those many years ago.

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I am sitting by Jordan in church this morning holding his hand, which at the moment, is resting passively in mine when he whispers, loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the surrounding pews which causes their heads to swivel our direction and diverts their attention from the speaker laboring so earnestly at the pulpit, to look around at us. “Grandma, why are your hands so wrinkled? Mine aren’t.” Upon taking a closer look I had to agree that he was right in his assessment. Somewhere along the way I have developed old lady hands with their wrinkles and popped up veins. Just one more indication, as if I really needed it, that time is taking its toll on me. I suppose that one of the reasons I am continually being startled is that my spirit doesn’t feel old even if I can’t see without my glasses and it takes me a step or two when I get up from my chair to convince my legs that they both need to go in the same direction and preferably at the same time and that is just for starters. I am not complaining, mind you as I am really doing quite well for the shape I’m in. I must also add a favorite statement of MGH”s which is “It’s liable to get worse before it gets better” which leads me to believe that I better just take it one day at a time and ignore whatever I can for as long as I can.

Again this brings to mind the first Grandma Andrus who I never knew as other than an old lady. Even then, when she was just a shadow of her former self physically, she was still quite formidable for which I held her in great admiration. Not that I ever told her so. I mean, can you imagine just how it would sound if you said that to your mother-in-law with out coming off like a complete and total idiot which I always had the suspicion that she thought I was even though she never said so to my face. I came by this suspicion from reading her letters to the rest of the family in which she would recount in great detail her opinions on the conditions of the family member/spouse/children that she was currently staying with. We all did it (I am talking about reading the letters before they were mailed). Well, I guess I better correct myself and say that I did and my husband didn’t. I did, however, read the letters that came to us when she was elsewhere and the were just full of the juiciest bits of information so it wasn’t hard to imagine what she wrote about us. Truth to tell I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I hadn’t taken a ‘peek’ when I found an uncompleted letter. (MGH used to tell me in the early days of our marriage once he discovered my strong curiosity bent, “Curiosity killed the cat”. I would then reply to this comment with, “But satisfaction brought it back”.

Grandma A’s letters were long and detailed. She would spend hours writing these letters and as she had a large group of family and friends she would use carbon paper to make copies to take some of the burden off her in her mission to keep us all informed. (This really dates me as I don’t even know if they still sell the stuff which allowed you to copy from one sheet to another by placing the carbon paper face down on the front of the paper you wished to transmit your data to. If you failed to place the carbon paper the right direction you would still get a copy only it would be on the back or your original page which meant that you had to start the process all over again.) Being quite thrifty she would try to get five or six copies from each page that she wrote by placing a sheet of carbon paper behind each page which meant that if you got the last copy you quite often needed a urim and thummin to help you interpret. She would usually personalize each letter with a line of greeting for the intended recipient. These letters were often the subject of much scorn especially if you were on the receiving end of the barely discernible last copy, although I must admit that while she was alive and writing we were much better informed about the other members of the family and their comings and goings.

Now here I am doing the same thing with my jolets. Thanks to the marvels of the computer and e-mail I can write once and send it to everyone which is quite a blessing if one is the writer but not nearly as enjoyable for the writee. As I feel a need to be fair and balanced in my observation of the current situation I must point out in my defense that thanks to the availability of the ‘delete’ button which whisks it all away if perusing becomes too tedious one can quickly put an offending letter out of its misery. The other point is that no one ever gets a blurred copy–’tis indeed a marvelous time we are a livin’ in.

The children always included Grandma Andrus in our family prayers with a “Please bless Grandma’s knees”, because they all knew how much they pained her. She wasn’t at all adverse to using earthly methods as well as spiritual and her house always carried the lingering odor of Ben-gay which she used liberally on her aching limbs. I am not there yet, thank goodness. but I am touched when I hear that our grandchildren are praying for us–it helps.

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A BAD Summary:

Tom, Bryan and Franklin will have visited 15 states before we finish this 2-week whirlwind visit to see Jonas and Kristi and grandbaby Dallin in Arizona (they live in the southwest Phoenix suburb of Maricopa), see David through the Mesa Temple and drop him off for a visit with Charlie in Provo, Utah, and visit Grandpa Andrus in Cedar City, Utah. Our van will carry five passengers on the way out to Kristi’s, six on the leg up through the Grand Canyon to Cedar City and four on the 1500-mile return trip home. In Arizona, five of the seven BAD Kids are together, the most since the summer of 2005 when Jonas and Kristi were married. (Wendell Joe is enjoying a 6-week visit to Spain and Devin continues in the Indiana-Indianapolis mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.)
The trip out includes a stop at the alien McDonald’s in Roswell (Editor: NO exchanges made) and a slide in the White Sands, both in New Mexico, and a visit to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Tom takes Bryan and Franklin along on a business-related side trip to California, including swim time in the Pacific Ocean at Newport Beach. The last site-seeing stop of the trip is Dinosaur National Monument in Utah, unless you count the Winter Quarters LDS Temple Visitor Center in Nebraska, where we examine a display of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
If you are thinking of adjectives like “packed, intense, and exhausting” you forget that the rest of us were all counting on Tom to monopolize the driving, leaving us plenty of time to relax and catch up on sleep and video game play. He did surprise us this trip, apparently setting aside his notorious 2005 Bell Curve for Driving and its accompanying motto: “He who has the most experience will drive the most.” However, since Franklin was the only passenger under 16 during the trip, the rest of us, by taking turns, still got to achieve our goals for relaxation, sleep and play.

One Day at a Time, in a Very BAD Way

Saturday, June 9, 2007
It is nine o’clock when David politely tells his friends that his graduation party and mission send-off is over (Dave will be leaving for the California Anaheim Mission-Spanish Speaking, in August) and another 30 minutes before the laughing young people leave our front lawn and close their car doors. “I felt bad asking them to leave,” says David, all too aware of tomorrow’s impending deadline and the cleaning and packing that must precede our departure. “They all looked like they were having so much fun and wanted to stay.”
“Why don’t you boys take 15 minutes before we start cleaning up,” says Mom, scooping up a bit of leftover taco meat on a chip. David and Bryan look at her like she’s crazy. “Stargate is on!” Mom returns the stare, knowing they’re the crazy ones. “We’ll stay up all night if we need to,” they reassure her.
Tom has already gone to bed.

Sunday, June 10, 2007
The question of the day is will we make it out at 6 AM like Dad would like, or 8 AM as Mom has predicted? With at least 10 hours of driving ahead of us, we’d all like to prove Dad right. Mom is up by 5:30 AM, Dad long before then. David and Bryan appear in a cheerful if sleep-deprived mode at six. At 8:00 AM everything is packed, loaded, the maps are checked, and the cat and dog have been told good-bye. (Editor: We were ready to go at 6!)
Mom, David and Bryan snooze while Dad drives and Franklin draws entertaining new places us for us to visit like Cones Island and Pop-it Place. When Mom wakes up (her little bird, Franklin, is squeaking, ‘I’m hungry!’) she and Dad snack on grapes and talk politics.
To entertain himself, Franklin begins singing “The Wheels on the Bus.” He adds a few new verses including one Daddy has never heard: “The Middle-Age Man on the bus goes F-Y-I, F-Y-I, F-Y-I….” In the ensuing protest and discussion, Daddy is officially limited to one FYI per day.
There is also some discussion about whether or not it is permissible to flatulize in enclosed spaces, but as most offenders are sleeping when the debatable offenses occur, there is not much to be done.
We meet Jenyne for dinner in Manhattan, Kansas, Chinese cuisine at the Bamboo Buffet. Jenyne just took her Praxis exam for licensure as a school counselor. Naturally, the results will be back at a much later date, but she feels she did well. Wendell Joe is enjoying his stay in Spain and has set up a Facebook account where he has posted many pictures.
The hotel in Salina has an indoor pool, but we arrive so late we are unable to use it. We are crammed into a King “suite” that is actually one room with a King bed and a sofa sleeper. Add a rollaway and an air mattress and all sleep comfy, if crowded.

Monday, June 11, 2007
The excitement of the day was the mid-afternoon pit stop on Hwy 70 West, not too far in New Mexico when Franklin began to feel sharp pains in his tummy. No red marks, no fever, probably just too many Starbursts on top of crackers and not enough French Fries. (Franklin didn’t eat supper last night as they do not serve French fries at the Bamboo Buffet.) Mom tells Franklin that his belly is full of bubbles and his best bet is to relax and try to squeeze it out. “But yesterday you said I shouldn’t fart in the van,” sobs a very uncomfortable Franklin. “Hmm,” replies Mom. She begins telling stories about gaseous anomalies, such as the bull calf that ate too much alfalfa and blew up like a balloon. Grandpa Andrus poked it in the belly with a knife to relieve the pressure and the calf was fine. “You aren’t going to poke me!” gasps Franklin. In a couple of hours Franklin is feeling much better. “Whatever you’re doing back there, keep doing it,” says Daddy, who is much more cheerful now that Franklin’s sobs have subsided. “We’re farting,” shouts Mom. It is Dad’s turn to mutter “Hmm.”
Later in the evening we see two full-horizon double rainbows, a perfect prelude to the storm that arrives just after we pull into the McDonald’s in Rosewell, New Mexico. Tonight we sleep in two rooms in an older hotel in which the pictures don’t match the carpet and the bright green bathroom tiles provide no special ambience, but the rooms are clean, the mattresses are solid and all the plumbing works. This place has an outdoor pool and hot tub, but it is raining. (David calls us wimps, but he won’t swim alone.)

Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Dad gets up an hour earlier than yesterday, waking the rest of us up too, so that we are on the road by 6:30 AM.
We visit White Sands, New Mexico. This is a 2nd visit for Dad, Mom and Franklin but a fist time trip David and Bryan. The sand has a different texture after last night’s rain, and Dad has to dig down about 6 inches to find the dry powder we expected. David stays down at the van taking pictures while Dad, Mom, Bryan and Franklin jump off the crest and draw sand pictures. We bury Bryan in the sand and then Franklin.
There are F-117A stealth fighters flying overhead. Today there will be missile testing and everyone has been asked to leave the park by 1:30 PM. Franklin expresses some concern about this, but we make it out by 10:30 AM even after Mom’s trip to the visitor’s center, which was experiencing a power outage and the receipts for her souvenir purchases had to be made manually.
We arrive at Jonas and Kristi’s house around 8:00 PM, which is actually 7:00 PM, as Arizona does not participate in the national daylight savings craze. Jonas and Kristi have vacated the Master Bedroom for their parents and are sleeping on an air mattress in one of the extra bedrooms. This rite of passage brings tears to Mom’s eyes as she reflects on similar arrangements when her parents or Tom’s parents have come to visit us back in Janesville. Tom is unaware of J&K’s sacrifice until much later.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Morning sees Dad and Mom drive to the LDS Distribution Center next to the Mesa Temple with David to purchase the necessary clothing items for his Endowment session scheduled for this upcoming Friday. Meanwhile, in Maricopa, Kristi, Bryan, Franklin and Dallin play Apples to Apples. Yes, Dallin played. Kristi would hold up a card and see how he squeaked or batted at it to determine if it was a yes or a no. Dallin nearly won. Bryan only beats him by one card.
When Jonas gets home from work, Kristi and her brothers make a spaghetti dinner. Dad and Mom sit serenely on the couch during the commotion in the kitchen. “We are the Grandparents,” comments Mom, referring to their inactivity. “Did our parents watch us running around like crazy?” reflects Tom. He answers his own question. “I guess they did.”
David and Bryan ask Kristi what she does all day, as she does not have a TV or a video game system. Ris doesn’t quite say, “Hello, I take care of the baby!” Instead, she answers their real question, “What can we do all day?” and brings out Connect Four, a Christmas present from Charlie. David and Bryan play into the night until Jonas tells them it is time to go to bed!

Thursday, June 14, 2007
Kristi has an appointment to get set up as a Registry Nurse at Banner Hospital. Could Grandma please watch the baby? Grandma does, but sets the Little Critter down to get a drink of water. He squeaks and Grandpa appears. “Sounds like he needs a Grandpa,” says Tom. He and Dallin then walk the floor, Dallin’s blue eyes peaking over Grandpa’s shoulder just like Franklin used to do 7 years ago.
Kristi passes her tests and comes home excited and happy. After feeding the baby, she plays Connect Four and Apples to Apples with her brothers. When Dallin is fed and sleeping again, Mom and Kristi set out for Babies R Us. Kristi is looking for a little Sunday outfit and Grandma wants to find a really nice baby toy, you know, to spoil the grandbaby. “Yes!” thinks Syl, pushing out the loaded shopping cart. “Being a grandparent is fun!”

Jonas picks Charlie up at the airport after work, the two of them meeting the rest of us at the Macaroni Grill. Our waitress, Michelle, can write her name upside down and backwards on the paper tablecloth. (Editor: My brother Bob can do that too. No big deal.) She thrills Franklin by leaving the crayons there. “This is just like our Volunteer Breakfast,” he says. (The first graders had a party for their volunteers and decorated paper as a tablecloth.) We all have something a little different—baked salmon for Mom, spaghetti and meatballs for Bryan, pan pizza for David, salad for Kristi, French fries for Franklin, chicken for Charlie, seafood linguini for Tom and pasta for Jonas. We had Calimari for hors d’ouvres, which Bryan found a little bit tasty but tough. His comment, “I don’t do sea food.” Even Dallin ate, out in the car with his mother in 110 degree weather. (Kristi did turn on the car’s air conditioning, but it didn’t help much.)

Friday, June 15, 2007
Jonas and Kristi leave Dallin with Grandpa, Bryan and Franklin while they drive up to Mesa with Grandma, Charlie and David. David’s endowment is scheduled for 9:00 AM, but he and Charlie (who is his escort) have been asked to arrive at 7:30 AM. The Mesa temple has a lot of history on Grandma’s side of the family—her mother and aunts used to play on the temple grounds and her Grandma performed many vicarious ordinances there. Thinking about her Grandmother in that sacred place makes Syl a little weepy. Thankfully, there are many boxes of tissue sitting in strategic places.
Grandma and Charlie have been attending the temple alone for many years. It is wonderful to be there and find family. Words can’t describe. Afterwards, we take many pictures and visit the Distribution Center and Deseret Book, at the latter David has his new set of missionary scriptures engraved.
This is the longest time Kristi has left her baby. She has instructed Grandpa to give him a bottle of formula (another first). When the temple group returns home Grandpa says mischievously, “Dallin slurped that right down, then looked at me and said ‘I like you more than Mommy.’” (Apparently yet another first for the 4-month-old, his first words.)
Grandpa and Grandma cook dinner tonight, after a joint shopping trip to the local Frye’s. Baked chicken, mashed potatoes, broccoli, corn, celery, carrots and strawberries. Jonas and Kristi’s kitchen is set up perfectly for a family of three, but with nine of us there (if you count Dallin) we are scraping the bottom of the silverware drawer to find everyone knives and spoons. They are found, and dinner is much enjoyed.
Kristi goes to bed early while Jonas gets in a little male bonding with his brothers-in-law playing Knights and Settlers of Caton.

Saturday, June 16, 2007
The travelers leave at 7 AM Arizona time (8 AM Utah time). Grandma and Grandpa have resumed their respective titles of Mom and Dad. Dad drives the first few hours while the rest of us sleep off our late nights. Before long we find ourselves at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Looking over the railing at the great rocks on the edge of the drop we see pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters left by other visitors. Dad is plied for small change, which he provides (but no quarters). We take turns casting our coins off the mountain. Franklin takes careful aim and his dime drops nearby, but when Charlie, David and Bryan throw, their coins sparkle briefly in the sunlight but we are unable to see where they land.
Unlike White Sands, Dad decides he is going to go with Mom to the Visitor’s Center on her quest for souvenirs. (Editor: Mostly post cards!) No one else makes any purchases except Franklin, who picks out a stuffed chirping bird he names Bluie.
On the way out of the Grand Canyon park we stop at the Tuscayan Ruins (a bunch of dead guys). On the highway again, we drive past the Glen Canyon Dam and then the Stampin Up manufacturing building which is located just before Kanab. Mom wants to stop but Dad says, “No.” (Editor: It was Dad who pointed the building out to Mom…just after it was too late to pull in!)
All the way from the Grand Canyon to Cedar City, where the scenery frequently provides spectacular cliffs and vistas, Tom prompts Charlie: “What do you think would happen if we went over that cliff?” Charlie holds out until about 15 miles from our destination when he finally replies, “That would be fun, for awhile.” (We have used that quote many times since Char first blurted it out on our first family vacation in 1996.)
In Cedar City, Grandpa Andrus is waiting up for us, settling us into the three upstairs bedrooms while he retires downstairs.

Sunday, June 17, 2007
Syl’s schedule for today says, “Attend church with Dad.” As Dad is patriarch for one of the college stakes in Cedar City, attending church is pretty much all he does. The travelers all attend the 11:00 AM meeting for one of the student wards. Grandpa tells us “The first time I went to a student wartd, I was astonished at how quiet it was.” (LDS families tend to have lots of kids and our services generally have several youngsters wailing in the background. Most of us—having taken our turn with young’uns, put up with this with a good-natured deaf ear.) Charlie, who attends a student ward, backs Grandpa up on their quiet nature, adding, “I have a friend who attends a married student ward. He said the people there are either ‘newlyweds or nearly deads.’” Charlie laughs. Mom, looking around at the congregations, observes something she didn’t notice as a BYU college student nearly 30 years ago: while the audience is filled with youngsters around 20 years old, give or take, the stands are packed with middle-age men and women and even a few from the next older generation like her Dad. She soon learns why. The youngsters are a little unpredictable in their assignments, especially over the summer. Mom finds herself substituting at the organ, and only one of the assigned speakers has shown up. The older folks step in and provide wonderful talks, including Grandpa who bears his testimony.
After church, Grandpa gives Charlie, David and Bryan each a Father’s Blessing. He and Sylvia scoot off to attend his home ward’s set of meetings while Tom and boys have a “second breakfast” as the Hobbits like to call it, before driving up to Provo to drop off Charlie, who has to work in the morning, and David.
We all get to squeak “Hi,” to a tired Uncle Sherman (Syl’s brother) when he gets back from his shift. He works three 12’s plus a half day making copper pipe, staying at Grandpa and Grandma’s house, then returning to his family (wife, Victoria and girls; Ava turned 3 on June 8 and Ema turned 1 today) in St. George for the rest of the week.
“I’d love to be home for Ema’s birthday,” says Sherm. “We celebrated yesterday, but it’s not the same. I thought about doing a half day but the place was empty because everyone was taking off for Father’s Day.”
Sherman sits down and tries to do some serious talking about agitators with Franklin, but washing machines are a thing of the past. Instead, they begin counting up the foods Franklin will eat, working first on the fingers, not quite filling up the toes as the count ends at 15, if you include water, and agree that pop tarts are food, not cardboard.

Monday, June 18, 2007
Dad and Mom pick up the rental car first thing in the morning. Dad has snuck in a business trip to Loma Linda and Riverside, California. His meetings will take place on Tuesday. Today, he and Bryan and Franklin drive the six-plus hours to the hotel, then spend another hour driving through city until they reach Newport Beach for a dip in the ocean. The group also experiences a genuine California traffic jam around 6 PM heading back to the hotel.
Mom and Grandpa spend a quiet day in Cedar. Grandpa shows Mom all of Grandma’s flowers and plants. He is tending them for her while she is away in Louisiana looking after Joy and her family. (Editor: They look great, Mom, except for maybe one house plant that is going a little yellow.)
After work, Sherman tries to get Syl to jam a little—if she’ll work the keyboards, he’ll do some noodling on his electric guitar. The thing about jamming, Sherman explains, is that you have to agree on the progressions. “Would that be something like ‘Heart and Soul?” asks Syl, playing the familiar chords. “Yeah,” says Sherm. “Keep that going.”

Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Aunt Robyn says yes, she will be available after work to go to the 2:15 PM showing of “Nancy Drew.” Grandpa, Robyn and Sylvia settle into the theatre for a nearly private viewing. (There are only 2 other people when they first walk in, although a few others do trickle in.) When Syl asks if anyone would like something from the concession stand Robyn says, “No thanks. I just ate.” “I like popcorn,” says Grandpa, “but I don’t like to get it from these places.”
Later in the evening, Syl passes up a recording session with Sherm to go with Grandpa to the Heritage Singers choir rehearsal. The music they sing is gorgeous but very difficult, so much so that the group has already begun rehearsing for Christmas.
Meanwhile, in California, Bryan is in charge of Franklin while Dad attends his meetings. Franklin declines the opportunity to swim in the outdoor hotel pool, opting instead for a day of cartoons and video games, Franklin on Game Boy (think Pokemon Red Rescue) and Bryan on Lappy (think Might and Magic).
Coming home that night, heading north on I-15 to Barstow, the California crew is treated to a second L.A. traffic jam. At Vegas, there are no trees to block the view from the mountains. With the lights of the city lit all around as they drive down the mountainside it almost feels like flying.
Syl gets a call around 11:00 PM. Wanting to repeat the fun of last year’s vacation when he strung Mom along on his “empty tank” joke all the way home from Chicago, Tom has Bryan ask: “We have about an 1/8 of a tank left. Should we stop for gas or try to make it in?”
“Stop,” says Syl, who is tired and not in the mood.
“Will you pick us up if we run out a few miles away from Cedar?”
“No.”
Tom and crew roll in after midnight. “I have some great pictures to show you,” says a very tired Tom.
“I guess you’re officially 17 as of 20 minutes ago,” Mom tells Bryan.
“I was officially 17 an HOUR and 20 minutes ago,” Bryan replies.
“What do you mean? It’s only twelve-twenty!”
“I was born in Wisconsin. I turned 17 on Wisconsin time.”

Wednesday, June 20, 2007
“Remember how you said to save up a few things you could do?” asks Grandpa of Sylvia. “I have something for a plumbing engineer.” Grandpa’s front lawn sprinkler system has three loops, one of which is not working. Tom and Grandpa narrow down the possibilities, finally pegging the zone control valve as the culprit. On the way back from Home Depot to purchase replacement parts, Tom asks Grandpa how to pronounce Kanab, whereupon Grandpa quotes an old Utah dirge, “Kanab, Kanab, you’ll never get rich in Kanab. But St. George is the place you want to be.”
Grandpa takes the sprinklers through a trial run after the valve change. Dad and Franklin don swimsuits and splash and splatter through the rainbow-infested water. “This is fun!” shouts Franklin, who frequently complains of being bored.
Tom’s day is not finished after the successful valve replacement. He is an excellent cook and Syl has him on the list to fix a ham dinner. Sherman gets home from work in time to share this with us and sing Happy Birthday to Bryan, who remains 17 years old.
Sherman’s desire to spend some time with his girls wins out over his promise of showing us the “submarine races” deep in the canyon on the evening before solstice when the sun comes down right in the gap. A brief insurance/politics discussion starts, with Sherman accusing Grandpa, Tom and Syl of being die-hard Republicans. “Not me!” protests Tom. This, plus talking “shop” about copper pipe, wins Sherm over to Tom.
After the cake is gone, Mom asks, “Wait, where are the presents?” “There aren’t any,” mutters Bryan, who has helped pack up the van from day one. Dad cues Franklin to bring in an unwrapped but unopened McDonald’s toy. Bryan dutifully opens it and just as dutifully, “shares” it back to Franklin. Mom improvises, using one of Tom’s tricks. “Your Dad says I should take you shopping at Deseret Book.” This is done. Bryan picks out a wallet engraved with “Courage Not Compromise” as well as “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.”

Thursday, June 21, 2007
“So, did Tom show you the picture of the odometer?” asks Bryan.
“Would you believe we were going 140 miles an hour?” queries Tom, his face kinked into a kind of half-smile, half-question to see if Mom would believe him capable of such a thing. Mom has her doubts, which deepen as Bryan blurts, “We have pictures to prove it!” The camera is retrieved and sure enough, there in digital image is an odometer with the needle pointing squarely to 140. “It’s kilometers per hour,” Dad says quickly, in reply to Mom’s gasp. “There’s a little button you can push that changes the reading from mph to kph.”
It’s our day to say good-bye to Grandpa, who has yet another surprise in store. “Try some of that Noni juice,” he suggests. Grandpa is a consultant with the Tahitian Noni Juice company, testing the ability of the product to boost the production of dairy cows. “Wow,” comments Tom after an ounce or two. “That’s bad.” He swallows and shakes his head. “Can I have some more?”
Up in Provo, Charlie has gotten the okay to take time off from work to meet us for lunch. Mom is so excited to see him and David again that she totally misses the cries of “Watch out!” that the room full of college-age boys are shouting. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says, after ripping out a lead hooking a controller to the TV. “All I could see was Charlie.” The boy who was playing was a little distressed, but some of the more cool-headed kids in the room say comfortingly, “That’s all right. It happens all the time. They were designed to pull out easy.”
There is some question about where to eat. Char recommends a spot called “The Village Inn,” just down University Hill. He and David begin scarfing down full platters of food, David eating his inch-thick French Toast in three or four large bites. “They’re college kids,” Tom reminds her. It is like a light goes on in Mom’s head. Leaving Cedar City, she had tried to clear out the food in Grandpa’s fridge that he would be unlikely to eat (having found upon their arrival several dehydrated radishes, and other similar items). “Would you like a lump of turkey meat?” she asks David. David is about to politely decline when Charlie says, “Yes!” He turns to David. “It’s meat. Meat that I don’t have to buy!” Remembering the carrot and celery sticks that disappeared while Charlie was along on the trip from Maricopa to the Grand Canyon, (things that the still-eating-at-home group frequently turn up their noses at), Mom leaves her supply of fresh fruits and vegetables with David and Charlie as well. She wishes she had thought of that before she left Grandpa’s. She can almost see that small bag of carrots in the crisper of Grandpa’s refrigerator, gradually dehydrating.
David is dropped off at the apartment, Charlie at the shed where his working tools are kept. Dad, Mom, Bryan and Franklin continue the trip to Vernal, Utah where we will be staying for two nights. Today we arrive with plenty of time to swim in the heated pool. Mom and Franklin do just that.

Friday, June 22, 2007
Mom’s reservation ticket shows a request for an “oar boat,” in which the guide does all the rowing so Mom is only half listening as Stan, who will be our guide, demonstrates how to use a paddle. Imagine her astonishment when Stan hands out paddles all around. Franklin’s paddle is quickly stowed as soon as we get into the boat behind Greg and T, who have opted to be power rowers in the front. Franklin and Mom sit just behind them. Mom tries to paddle, but her oar keeps smacking into T’s. After a couple of annoying hits, the guide expertly stows her paddle securely with Franklin’s at the bottom of the puffy blue raft. Tom and Bryan are sitting behind Mom and Franklin, paddles productive. Stan and his young daughter, Dacey, row in the back.
Our first set of rapids through the Dinosaur National Monument is a class III, and is much like going down a ride at a theme park with lots of dips, dives, splashes and screams of terror/enjoyment. For the second time in two weeks, Franklin is heard to say, “This is awesome!” This is a phrase he will use repeatedly through the day.
Class II rapids are pretty tame, but they sometimes provide splashes and Class I’s are pretty ripples that provide a little background noise. Thereafter, whenever we hear rapids approaching, Franklin shouts, “Is it a Class III?” Alternating with, “Can we go back and do that again?”
Mom, not allowed to paddle, frets about adequate liquid intake and sunscreen. “No thanks,” says Bryan, who is turning visibly red. “I promise not to complain if I can’t sleep.” Tom, ears white with caked up overkill, is about one minute away from throwing the SPF 30 bottle overboard after Mom asks for the tenth time. He keeps this to himself, although he would very much like to say “Second degree burns are not fatal,” or, “a little pain is a good lesson for a teenager.” Mom does not exclude herself. She slathers sunblock on her hands and chin, the only skin she has showing. Contrary to Adrift Adventures recommendations, she has worn cotton blue jeans that completely cover her legs, preferring to suffer through a little damp rather than risk a burn. She is also wearing socks with her canvas shoes—no red ankle stripes for her! Her sunglasses are thick and green with lenses the size of her palm. Her hat is floppy and wide-brimmed. Even her hands can hide in the long-sleeve shirt she permanently borrowed from Grandpa.
Native American petroglpyhs are visible on the canyon walls, both during the rafting and the 45-minute van ride to the drop-off point. The kids take an opportunity to swim in the muddy water. Franklin is so covered with sand after lunch break that it feels like Mom is rubbing him with sandpaper when she reapplies sunscreen. After lunch, the biggest of the rapids have been passed. Stan instructs our oarsman to paddle back on the left and forward on the right, spinning us around in a Class II splash. Rafters are invited to jump in, the last time at the end where they can ride the very last rapids “feet forward and rockfinders (i.e. buttocks) up.” Everyone on the boat but Dad and Mom jumps in, even the guide.
As we land the raft, Franklin is shivering from cold and Mom is glad to see a toilet, even if it doesn’t flush. Her fears about burning allayed, she pulls Franklin out of his damp, muddy shirt and replaces it with the long-sleeved she borrowed from Grandpa.
The Weston Hotel we are staying at in Vernal has a wonderful swimming pool. Mom insists that Franklin wash off the mud and sand before he gets in, but Dad and Bryan change directly into swim trunks and jump right in. “Does this count as my bath?” asks Dad. What can Mom say? “Yes, dear.”
Dinner is McDonalds. We are pleased to report that Franklin has been eating the 6-nugget Happy Meals without complaint. (Last year there was much coaxing and crying to finish up 4 chicken nuggets.) Mom drags everyone over to the Field Museum, also in Vernal, where we are treated to videos and displays about the dinosaur digs for which the area is famous.
Not even Bryan stays up late and we all sleep well tonight. (Editor: I stayed up till midnight by my watch. But if you consider that early that’s fine with me.)

Saturday, June 23, 2007
“Brian!” hollers Franklin in his sleep, as if trying to jerk back a straying blanket. A startled Bryan looks up from the different bed where he is sleeping. Bryan and Franklin have been unable to share a bed on account of Franklin’s feeling that it is inherently unfair that Bryan should take up so much more room than he does. In spite of Bryan’s demonstration with a pillow that he couldn’t have been taking up more than half the bed, (“See, my shoulders aren’t any wider than that,”) Franklin chooses to sleep on the floor on a nest of blankets.
Today is our longest day of travel, with Yahoo predicting 730 miles, not counting Dad’s side jaunt to pick up a piece of Colorado. After several long screeches, Franklin’s Game Boy is confiscated. He entertains himself and us by adding 8 characters and 2 locations to his Owlmon series.
We are all glad to see the Roadway Inn in Grand Island. Roadway doesn’t seem as thrilled to see us, as our reservations appear invisible and the room we are eventually assigned to is very hot.

Sunday, June 24, 2007
Mom insists on a stop at the Winter Quarters Visitor Center, just across from the LDS temple just north of Omaha, Nebraska. There is the usual Mormon pioneer memorabilia and just by chance, a traveling exhibit of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Even Dad, who good-naturedly goes along on many of Syl’s family history quests, is genuinely interested in the latter.
Bryan drives his last leg from Winter Quarters to Des Moines. He does an very nice job for a 16-year-old, a nice job for a 17-year-old, but he doesn’t cut the mustard compared to 45 or 50.
Mom also insists that everyone in the van gets to eat at least one meal today, allowing Tom to stop for the first time on the trip at his favorite fast food joint, the KFC, in Iowa City, which is right next to a McDonalds—Franklin is still able to get his Happy Meal…That’s the plan … however, the exit isn’t labeled, so we miss our chance. Instead, when we get home, Dad goes to Woodman’s for some milk, bread and a couple of steaks which he fries up expertly.
A great summer vacation done, it is good to sleep in our own beds again.

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