:Family Matters

Joy sent the following story to me by e-mail. What a beautiful understanding this 6 year has on why we are here. I am continually amazed at the wisdom of children.

A Dog’s Purpose? From a six year old

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron and his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old don in their home. As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, “I know why.”

We all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try and live.

He said, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life – like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?”

The six year old continued, “Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

(I tried to find who wrote this by entering A Dog’s Purpose? From a 6 year old in the browser on my computer and was able to trace it back to B___ S——- of W—– C—- Animal Hospital who said, “I found this note through a twitter link and wanted to share it. The original author was not identified on the blog page where this link directs to.”)

No Comments

August 19, 2009

What fascinating stories people have to tell. I never cease to be amazed as I learn of them. Here are several I heard today.

As I left the chapel this morning following Sacrament Meeting I found myself at the tail end of the stream heading for the Gospel Doctrine class which is taught in the Relief Society Room. Because I wasn’t moving fast, nothing new there, I caught up with a friend, Ginger Myler, whose almost 92 year old mother was visiting her from Las Vegas gamely working her walker down the hall, (the mother not Ginger). I visited with them for a few moments as we headed for our class. It’s a long hall and there was time to exchange a few bits of information about what was happening in each of our respective lives. Ginger told me that it is her belief that her husband has been kept alive by a series of medical interventions on this side of the veil and angels on the other which have granted him several more years than might have been thought possible considering the seriousness of his various illnesses. She confided that they were looking to buy a home which she said was to be a small one on one level. When her children heard this they expressed dismay that she should even be thinking such thoughts. She said she told them that she was just facing the fact that her husband’s health wasn’t getting any better and while she was treasuring every day with him the fact remains that she is quite likely to be on her own in the not too distant future and needs to recognize that fact. I found myself nodding sagely in agreement with her as I too am up against some hard facts of my own as I watch MGH struggle with his greatly reduced physical capacities. It is hard for me to watch this once physically strong man lose the ability to move more than the bare necessities required to care for himself. What we will do when the time comes that he has reached the end of his ability to ‘do’ for himself is something that I am beginning to realize that I need to face up to as well.

Recently one of the members of the C_____ C____ bishopric, J__ McP___, nearly died. His story unfolded thusly: He had eaten lunch with a friend at a local restaurant. Soon afterward, finding himself not feeling well and thinking something he ate wasn’t agreeing with him, he went home and headed for the bathroom where he experienced a medical emergency that stopped his breathing and sent him crashing to the floor. Now here’s where the story gets interesting, his wife, who is a registered nurse, and isn’t normally at home at that time of day, came home that afternoon for some unexplained reason, arriving just in time to find him and begin CPR. How she was able to call 911 in the middle of this is, in itself a miracle. He was rushed to the hospital in an extremely serious condition where he was eventually revived. Bro. McP___ remained in the hospital for several days while all kinds of tests were run on him to see what had caused the problem. Nothing was found but since they couldn’t find anything wrong with him he was sent home to the great relief of his family. Thanks to his wife B_____ coming home when she did, good medical care and a priesthood blessing this family is still together.

And they say miracles don’t happen anymore. . . .

No Comments

October 25, 2009

Random thoughts:

—–When I was younger I enjoyed going to bed early. Learning to stay up past nine o’clock was an acquired habit not attained until I left the home of my youth and found to my surprise that most of my roommates at BYU didn’t fully come alive until evening. I believe the official term is ‘owls’ for those who do their best work in the dark while ‘lark’ is used for those of us who do ours while the day is young and fresh. Who’s to say which is best? Certainly not me. Which is why I find it so alarming that I seem to have become a hybrid, neither owl nor lark.

Silly me, when I was heavily engaged in the child rearing process that often meant little sleep at night I used to dream of the time when nights would again be my own. When I could drift into the arms of Morpheus rising refreshed when morning light first appeared. Regretfully, I must confess that to my great disappointment this hasn’t happened as needs of an aging body mean I am up and down each night as often as ever I was when my children were younger. When I do sleep it’s more in the napping mode than a full quota of zzzzz’s and so I find myself in the unenviable position of getting my eight hours a day but just not all at the same time.

—–Third night in a row of hard frosts. By this I mean that the rooftops have a heavy icing in the morning when the sun comes up which now is not until after seven. Still hasn’t killed all the outdoor plants with a few especially hardy ones blooming like the across the road neighbors mums. I wish I could get enthusiastic about trimming my rose plants back as some have gone absolutely bonkers. It’s hard to believe that most of them started out as small tea roses that I bought in the grocery store. Heat does strange things to them as their blossoms bleed color under the intense sun that pummels this high desert valley where I live. Makes me wonder if the desert will ever truly blossom as the rose or only in some pale imitation of a gentler clime.

—–Ran a few errands Saturday. The usual kind, groceries, filled the car with gas using a 15 cents off/gallon that I got for shopping at Smith’s and spending over a hundred dollars which, sadly, is not hard to do with not much to show for it at that. Gas is now $2.67 a gallon at the stations with the lowest prices. Does anyone besides me wonder if we are beginning the lurch back to the ‘renewable’ energy of the horse and buggy?

—–Drop dead gorgeous day yesterday. The kind you wish all days were like but then if they were they wouldn’t be special anymore would they.

—–My sister Darlene is considering marriage. Can’t wait to hear how this story is going to end. My prayers are with her.

—–It occurs to me that we all are dealt a hand to play when we are born. Some are easy to figure out and play to optimum advantage while others are tragic in their difficulty but it matters naught, as near as I can tell, as all must play out the hand they are dealt.

No Comments

October 17, 2009

Random thoughts.

With my letters I have hoped to tell a little family history both of the family I grew up in as well as the family I married into along with recounting current activities. As a result I now have nine, I just counted them, notebooks full of ‘memories’ sitting primly on a shelf gathering dust awaiting their fate. This surprises me as our family has a gene inherited from our dad that prevents us from writing letters known in our family as ‘the curse of the perpetually broken wrist’. Strange as it might seem, if for some reason I had to evacuate on a moments notice for an emergency like so many families have had to do because of natural disasters, I would try to save them first. My reasoning being that everything else could be replaced but memories are ephemeral. MGH has written far more than I and if we were able to get our combined writings into our car I am afraid there would be no room for us. Sigh. Perhaps this is why there are always a few hardy souls who would rather ride out a hurricane/fire/flood etc than save themselves. Kind’ve the going down with the ship mentality that is attributed to a ship’s captain whose life and wealth is found there. While I must admit this has a certain logic if one is in the middle of the ocean and the chances of surviving in a life boat on a stormy sea aren’t much greater than remaining where one is, the logic escapes me if one can survive to start over another day.

Aging is changing my perspective on what is and isn’t important. I think all of us believe, at least when we are young that dying is what happens to other people even though intellectually we know it will happen to us someday as well. The reality doesn’t begin to sink in that time is beginning to run out until the years begin to take their toll with increasing aches/pains/illnesses and a general slowing down in the ability to ‘get things done’. At any rate, that is the way it has been for me. As a result I look around my home with it’s rather eclectic collection of ‘things’ MGH and I have collected over the years and realize that it isn’t the having of possessions that makes for happiness or satisfaction. Like the trees that are shedding their leaves outside my window as they prepare for what comes next, I too can see that all we have accumulated, MGH and I, will count for little when we are gone. Just ‘things’ for our kids to hurriedly sort through as they settle up our estate. For me the ’shedding’ process is already beginning as I sift through books and patterns, regretfully putting some into a pile to go to the local thrift store where they hopefully, will be recycled into usefulness by someone else. I know I don’t have to do this but it is becoming clearer to me as each day passes that I will never begin to make all the projects I have patterns for. I wonder if Ford remembers the t-shirt I gave him a long time ago which I purchased from the sale table at Walden Books in Madison, emblazoned with the words “So many books, so little time. . .” which, to me, seems to pretty well sum up life—so much to learn/do, so little time.

Memories are precious. When written they remind us who we were and perhaps allow us to linger in our children’s memories should they care to turn to these pages for comfort/wisdom in their own lives.

Alas for me,

Memories come and memories go

teasing my thoughts as they slip to and fro.

A face with no name, A name with no face.

What nonsensical business has taken place?

If it continues will there come a time

When there’s nothing there but

empty space?

No Comments

October 11, 2009

One of the books in my parents collection was titled “A Voice From the Dust”. The title always intrigued me with its idea that those long in their graves could still tell their stories through written records. While the stories I am passing on to you belong to the living they have long been forgotten, which is a shame as they are stories that tell a piece of our family’s saga. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have.

VOICES FROM THE DUST

Volume #4: Issue 2 Greetings September 23, 1968_

Excerpts From the Notes of a Livestock Production Specialist

Thursday, Sept. 5—Presented slide pictures of beef carcasses entered in the Osceola County Fair 4-H Beef Carcass Contest at a meeting in Sibley. I discussed the relative merits of the various carcasses with respect to quality and yield of closely trimmed, boneless retail cuts.

Joanne and I went to the home of Ray Dirksen, Osceola County Extension Director, for punch and cookies after the meeting. We had a nice visit with Ray and his wife, but got home to bed pretty late.

Friday, September 6–Prepared radio tape on Silage making and the use of urea for balancing corn silage rations.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, September 11, 12, and 13—Went to Ames for In Service Training in beef, sheep, swine and dairy production testing.

Life in Tornado Alley

We have dubbed this area of the Pharaoh’s realm, Tornado Alley. While any and all of Egypt (Iowa) is subject to tornadoes, it seems that this corner is particularly vulnerable. Perhaps this is because there were two major tornadoes, four serious hail storms and several other big blows here soon after we arrived. The tornadoes were within 30 miles of us but our immediate vicinity escaped unscathed. One of them ripped up a big amusement park at Arnold’s Park. It wrecked the roller coaster, tore the roof off the dance hall and blew away the skin game booths. Th same tornado tipped a dozen house trailers into Lake Okoboji and uprooted hundreds of trees in the community of Arnold’s Park. In spite of the extensive property damage over a wide area, no lives were lost and there weren’t even any serious injuries.

The second tornado ripped through a rural area destroying approximately 30 farmsteads. I got to see a number of these as we put on a special program to help people plan their rebuilding projects. I am still answering calls from this storm. One fellow typifies the attitude of these people who were stricken by the wind. He said, “I suppose it was none of those old buildings were convenient for doing chores. I’m going to put them back right. I wouldn’t have had courage to do this whole job right if this hadn’t happened. As long as none of wee hurt, it was a good thing.” This attitude is also typical of the people of tornado alley in general. They are hardy, industrious, brave in the face of adversity and self-reliant. They have to be. Only such a people could survive the rigors of life on this prairie. (P.S. A tornado struck Orange City last night after DeVon wrote this. That’s about 60 miles from here. We received 3-4 inches of rain in the same storm.)

RAMBLING OF A REBEL

Dear Everyone,

School started. I suppose all good things must end someday, but I sure love summer. This year I’m taking Geometry, Speech & Debate, English, Biology and Art. Then I’m in band (flute) Pep Club, & Chorus. I haven’t decided whether to go out for sports or not.

Marie & I got a guitar, which we are both trying to learn to play. Before I could do too much though, I had to cut my long nails off—except the thumbnails, only I suppose I’ll cut them off too, because it looks kind’ve funny.
I got asked to another school’s Homecoming this year by a boy at Church. Only he broke his leg last Wednesday. I thought that would shoot the whole deal, but now his Mom’s gonna drive and instead of going to the dance afterward we’ll go someplace else, so I guess it’ll be alright after all.

Marie and I sang a duet for the Mother-Daughter meeting at Conference. It was supposed to be a quartet, but the other two girls (sisters too) couldn’t make it. We nearly didn’t, because two tires blew on the way and we only had one spare. So we changed one and drove the last 40 miles or so miles to Des Moines on a funny sounding tire.

That’s about it, I guess, until next time.
Love Ya All,

Dawn

“MARIE”

Dear Grandma & Grandpa,

Our All-State quartets for contest were chosen without tryouts. Since Mr. Rimerama doesn’t know me, I wasn’t even considered.

We had our first high school football game. We won 12 to 13. It was a real nice game. I stood at the lines through the whole game watching number 44. Kyle didn’t get to play; and probably won’t play with the Varsity this year. He’s pretty good though.

Grandma Kleven: I forgot to thank you for letting me read the book With A Song In Her Heart. I’m very sorry. I’ve had it for quite a while now. Miss Jepperson has quite a fantastic story. Thank you very much for sending it to me. We’ll bring it back to you next summer.

I also forgot to thank Grandma and Grandpa McAdam for the box of candies they sent us. English is so different that it’s really a treat. Thank you.
I will also thank Grandpa and Grandma Gano again for the paper, pen, and filler notebook they gave me. I sure use them.

I don’t have much chance to write to my grandparents; so Grandma Andrus thank you for your long letters. I know you are having a bad time since you fell and went to the hospital. It must take more effort on your part to keep up with your letter writing.

I just got an old guitar given to me, and I’m learning to play it so I can accompany my singing. The guy that gave it to me replaced a broken string, gave me a pick, and is teaching me for nothing! Dawn is also learning it.

My subjects in school are Art 111, English IV, French II, and Government, chorus and P.E. . I REALLY ENJOY SCHOOL.
Love,

No Comments

July 27, 2009

Occasionally, I come across something from the past that brings back memories of those long ago days when we were heavily involved in raising children. We lived far away from family which resulted in occasional spurts of communication on our part with our loved ones. For awhile this was accomplished using a homemade mimeograph consisting of a gel foundation with an ink incorporated into it. We used a 9 x 13 pan which some call a ‘dripper’ pan but I just call a cake pan. When the stencil was placed onto the surface of the gel and then removed we were able to place paper on the surface and the image would be transferred. I would love to be able to show you this contraption but I can’t even find anything about this when I put in a request for my browser to search the Internet. Who knows it’s probably there someplace but I didn’t want to scroll through all the thousands of possibilities. (Mimeograph machines themselves have gone the way of the Dodo. I do not miss them at all. The machines, not the birds which I have never had the pleasure of meeting. They were tricky to use requiring much faith along with careful placement of the stencil on a drum which one turned with a hand crank allowed ink to be forced through the typed stencil. The stencils gave me fits as I have never been the most accurate of typists which meant I spent more of my time trying to correct my errors then I did typing the things. Aaaugh! Describes how I felt about the whole process although I must admit that they could be a great time saver when duplicate materials needed to be reproduced.)

But enough about all that. If you are really interested in finding about this archaic method of reproduction you will have to do your own research. With that said here are some Voices From the Dust, as it were of our family in earlier days.

NEWS; FROM THE LAND OF GOSHEN

Dedicated to Keeping Grandma’s and Grandpa’s Happy

VOLUME # 2 ISSUE #10 Rt. # 3 Ames, Iowa October, 1966

FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD

Football! As soon as the bell rings its everybody on the bus. Everybody except the football boys. For us its 15 minutes to get on our uniforms and yell Beat Ogden! Or Beat East Greene! Or Beat Madrid! All the way down the field and then get in our places for EXERCISES 38 jumping jacks 24 sit-ups 24 squat thrusts 24 bend and reach 15 push ups 24 squat benders 24 trunk twisters 24 jump. Next bump those shoulders. Next two on one blocking and next comes tackling practice. Ready hit! Ready hit! Until he says stop, then cross body blocking. When thats done scrimmage is next. We work and work on plays and then wind sprint 130 yards as fast as we can go. After that is yell which team we’re going to beat next all the way to the dressing room.
When he’s real mad he adds lots more to the exercises and we also have to tour the town of Luther, 1 mile. One day he was real mad and he made us go twice without stopping I came in 4th of 24 people. I can beat people in longer runs but not the wind sprints. Well I got a sore back jumping over a cable. My foot caught and boom! Flat on my back. My wind was knocked out and I tried to remain still until I regained it. Then for two weeks I was a flub around the football field. I still went out but didn’t do much. Then the last two weeks of the season I was fine but I don’t think my coach thought I was because he wouldn’t let me play. Well, its over! Ogden 18 Comets*7; Madrid 12 Comets* 13 ta da! We were 1-3. We finally beat our last game and it was close. That’s Football Next Basketball. I got a pen pal from the Phillipine Islands by the of Aurelio Madaragia Jr. He speaks and writes English so its no problem. I’m on my third year on trombone and fifth year in 4-H starting my second year in boy scouts and I’m in seventh grade going to Luther. I’ll be thirteen November 8. I’m pretty well acquainted with everyone around here and doing fine.

Your Double Month Publisher,

P.S. I might add that Kyle makes football sound pretty lively but he was one tired Indian most of the time. He wouldn’t get home until 6:30 and then he’s had quite a bit more homework than ever before not to mention a few chores to tend such as caring for his 10 roosters who have now learned to crow!

MARK

Well, I guess it’s time to write again. Schools started now and hardly anything exciting happens anymore. But one thing I like about this year is, Kyle has gone out for football and when he brings his football suit home to get it washed, I get to put it on. But then when I play football with Kyle we play tackle football instead of touch football. Now I have marks on my chin where the shoulder-pads wore at because every time Kyle would tackle me the shoulder-pads hit my chin. Once he fell right on my arm and so I couldn’t play anymore and I’ll have a sore arm for awhile. And every time he tackled me I had the ball against my belly and I’d fall right on it. It doesn’t feel the best in the world either and 2 or 3 times I even knocked my wind wind out and we had to stop the game too (of course) while I got my wind back.
Kyle broke a vein in his back at school when he tried to jump a cable and caught his foot on it. Then I don’t know how but he pulled a muscle in his leg too. His football team has lost three games so far with only one more to play so we hope they can win it.
Kyle and Dawn played in the school band for a high school football game on a very rainy day and so you can imagine how they came home all soaked and wet to the skin. The only thing I didn’t like about that was that while they were playing in the band in the rain, I was home hanging out clothes in the rain, and I don’t know which you like better, hanging clothes or playing in a band, but I like the latter. I guess thats all.

Love

ROBYN

Well going back to school is something. I almost have a lot of boy friends and a lot of girl friends. And one o them is Becky Santage she has a lot of friends because she turns out to be nice with other people around her in the school. But theres one other nice girl I’m having trouble with and she is Cindy Wilson she’s a nice friend of mine but when ever I say hi to her she doesn’t say hi back to me but I try not to be hard on her I know she has troubles like me. But I still like her. Now I’m taking drum lessons at school. I would like to join the band there that’s why I take the lessons every Monday. I am fourteen now I turned last Saturday but we didn’t ha a birthday cake and ice cream because Dawn had to go baby sitting for some people and that made me mad. So Sunday we had it. Most girls hate my P.E. Teacher Mrs Carver they think she is mean but they are wrong. She is trying to help them swim and have a better start in life but I like my P.E. Teacher a lot shes real nice to me my math teacher is mr. Sccenatzkie, and my study hall teachers are mr anderson (and) mr waller he is so funny with people. In study hall he hits my friend Becky and tells her to be quiet but she said she didn’t say anything and we he had his back turned she said well I did not but last friday she was chewing gum I wrote her a note and old her not to chew gum or mr Waller will catch her and maybe spank her.

Well love ya all

NEWS FROM U.C.H

We (United Community High) just played a football game with S. Hamilton, and were slottered.
For four years U.C. Has never won a football game. This year they’ve won 3 or 4 games out of . I wonder if I’ve brought the luck from West Monona? I’ve been to two or three and this last one. The game we played before the last we were nothing to 21 at the half—then we really pushed and gave all we had and won 41 to 21.
We all agree we’ll probably never see anything like that again.
Our leading player is Dave Hurst I think he’s a halfback—his shirt is 55 and his helmet is 14. (just in case your wondering.)
He has blond hair and blue eyes and he’s about 5′9”. Isn’t that just like all football heroes. He’s really cute and well built and it’s a wonder he isn’t swell headed like most of them. He sits in study hall in front or in back of me whatever day it is & putters around. He sneezes every hour. And one day my girlfriend sneezed and he said Bless you—so now she hates him! ! ???
Now everyone probably thinks I like him. Everybody does!
I worked in the concession stand the first quarter this last game. When I came out to see the game our boys drug their feet like lame dogs—you could tell they’d given up before they even started. South Hamilton’s quarter back went in all state last year and they’ve been doing the same for quite a while. I’m sure our boys could have put up a better fight if they hadn’t quit.
Now I’m playing the piano for the first medley piece in a district play the church is putting on called “It Begins with Balloons” It’s hard. The practices are after MIA. I’m really glad we have MIA . It’s really worth while—I mean all that stuff like having to say the prayer or give the theme or something in opening exercises is worth the lesson in class. I really enjoy Sunday school and Church too—now that I know the kids. It was painful leaving the Sioux City branch and I guess it will be painful to leave this branch too.
The twins had a nice birthday and got blouses, socks, and money from grandparents, and they each got a cake which was really good eating for all of us.
I went to bed at 9:30 (that’s early—10:00’s late.) and turned out the light. somebody—one of my two room mates came in, turned on the light and bumped and thumped big feet around the room, complained about not having bed clothes (probably because they rotted under her bed) and thumped over to the dresser, wrenched open a drawer and proceeded to make the most terrible noises as she shifted the junk around in it. Then plopped in bed (and it creaked) rustled her rollers around and started to rake a comb through her hair which sounded like she was pulling it out by the roots. Then I decided to get up and write—so she talks reading to me from her journal. It’s like that most of the time—other times we have pillow fights or wrestle.
Basketball practice started this Monday and State law says it can’t be until next Monday. We have to run around the track 4 times. Sometimes you—I tell myself I’ll quit and can’t do it—but since I’m not a quitter I’ve been giving all I have, I’m ashamed to say because it isn’t very much, but in our distance races I’ve always pushed ahead at the end and best—but today it wasn’t by very much and I won’t be able to do it much longer cause they’re getting good. They keep pace with me then when I brake out to a walk which it amounts to on your fourth lap they’ll try to beat me. This sounds like war and rivalry I know.
I don’t get involved in that little black story—cause it never pays. Well so much for basketball—I ache.

Marie

DOWN DAWN’S WAY

Slickers, paper jewelry, bright wild colors and bright socks are all the part of a family of fads. “It’s the latest”, is what a horrified parent is told when her teenage daughter comes to breakfast in a bright pink, plastic mini skirt, orange stockings, and bright yellow pullover with multi-colored shoes to top the whole thing off. “All the guys are wearing them” comes to the cars of parents as their son strolls out the door and down the walk in a shirt that defies description in color and pattern.
The parents protest loudly (in vain). The kids stand quietly and listen to how it was when their folks were growing up. When the parents are finished they shrug and shake their heads and despair of ever being understood.
A father drives down the street and sees a boy with pants as tight as the skin of a grape. He’s just thinking how indecent he looks, when he glances back to see that it’s his son! He shudders and looks the other way making a mental note to raise the roof about it when and if he can catch his son home.
After school the poor mom drives to school to pick up her daughter after practice. How does she identify her? She looks for the shortest skirt. . . .and so it goes with the wild world of fads. They don’t stay around long, few people but the Beach Boys will wear surfer shirts next year. And hopefull the ‘dead’ look will be limited to corpses.
Fads are fun to follow—within reason, but don’t you ever wonder how the boys breathe in the tight pants and thick belts? (girls too!) Don’t you hope you’ll be looking the other way when the girl in the short skirt bends over?
CAN THEY LAST?

Written for the school paper October 18th, 1966

NOTES OF A STUDENT IN EGYPT

It’s sort of hard to get used to the college brand of studying again after thirteen years. I thought I was working pretty hard at it until my first test came up. When I flunked it I found out what John Paul Jones was talking about when he said he had just begun to fight. I have just begun to study. I think I’ll make it though if I get past the initial shock. I am taking a full load of fairly tough courses this quarter. So if I can pass all of them it shouldn’t get much worse. I have Statistics for Research Workers, Intermediate Genetics, Milk Secretion and German plus an animal breeding class I am not registered for but supposed to get the work in.
I seem to be the nearest thing there is to a genuine Iowan in the Animal Breeding Department of the graduate school. I share an office with a fellow from New Mexico, a Canadian (B.C.) a Swiss, Rhode Islander, and a genuine Mexican. Other Animal Breeding graduates are from Australia, India, Nigeria, Massachusetts, Nebraska, West Virginia, Mississippi, North Carolina, New York, Michigan, Brazil and a few other miscellaneous places which I forget right now, but not one is an Iowa resident except myself. University officials say this is because the school has such a good reputation as an awarder of advanced degrees.
Most of the grad students are married (although there are a couple of single girls who are greying) and most have farm backgrounds (yet one is from a big city and knows nothing of the farm). Anyway, they have made me welcome and I feel very much at home among them.
The church wasted no time putting me to work. I am the Seventy and High Priests Group Leader. We have one of the few Seventy and High Priest Groups in any of the missions of the church. It is a tremendously active group. All the members of the Branch Presidency, District Sunday School Superintendent and one Assistant, most of the District Counci and a few others holding executive positions.
Dad once said it was a blessing to have something to do. I am blessed. I don’t have much free time.

2 Comments