:Family Matters

May 23, 2010

Ah so, time for update on continuing saga of One Woman’s Search as our heroine, that would be me, bravely tackles file cabinets and boxes that hold our rather eclectic collection of memorabilia. Some might say the contents are priceless while those not so inclined would be more likely to say unmentionable words as they throw up their hands in dismay and run shrieking away. Not that they wouldn’t be entirely justified, although I feel it is my duty to toss this thought out for consideration, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure as justification for our stash. To wit, I came across a file labeled ‘immediate action’ dated 1991 left over from the days when MGH was gainfully employed. Not to be outdone, for I too have a few things from bygone days that I have been unable to part with such as a white candle with a now quite smashed bow that was used in a ritual that could only occur at a university like BYU whose mission statement does not include finding the ‘one’ but might as well.

At the time I was going to school (1958-1962) I lived in Heritage Halls (Bowen which I chose because on the map it looked to be closest to campus) which consisted of 24 apartment style buildings for women with three bed rooms in each apt. This allowed six girls to live together in each apartment where we shared a common kitchen/living area. At that time we pooled our money and took turns cooking for each other which was a great learning experience in it’s own way. Not to long after I graduated this practiced was abandoned.

We were closely supervised with curfew at 10:00 pm on week nights when the front door was locked. If we needed to stay out later we had to ask our ‘dorm parents’ for permission. I know, I know, it sounds weird today but those who had problems with the rules soon transferred elsewhere for their schooling. At 10:30 pm. All who wanted to, and many did, gathered in the downstairs lobby area for family prayer. There was also the occasional passing of the candle to keep us up to date on who had just gotten engaged. The candle, which had the engagement ring attached to it, by means of a pretty bow was passed around the circle of girls until it reached its owner where it was claimed amidst hugs and cheers. This ritual was a sweet tradition IMO(In My Opinion) and a memory I have cherished through the years as witnessed by my reluctance to give up ‘my’ candle.

Please excuse the slight jog down memory lane which I just indulged in but if I hadn’t you wouldn’t have understood my reference to a candle I have held on to for 50 years. So now that that explanation is out of the way I will return to just why it was I was once more entering the ‘twilight zone’ of our past. Here, I feel I must insert the obligatory caution given by that paragon of virtue, Miss Grace Randell, who told her Home Economic students on more than one occasion that a good rule of thumb to use when deciding what or how long to keep an item was, “If you haven’t thought of or had a use for an item in a two years you can dispose of it”. Honesty requires that I add that MGH takes exception to this rule and has his own which is, “If you might ever need an item again, keep it”. This conflicting advice has been the cause of more than one heated discussion between us through the years, mainly, I must confess because I find it easier to ‘dispose’ than he does.

The unfortunate circumstance which necessitated my delving was made necessary by a desire on my part to renew my driver’s license as The Great State of Utah now demands to see proof of citizenship in the form of a genuine birth certificate as proof of citizenship. As MGH confidently assured me he had seen my BC just the other day in the one of the green file cabinets located in closet in his office I put off locating it until last week. Just as an aside, considering the flap in Arizona and the resultant uproar from those of a liberal persuasion one might think that there could be no more horrible request made than asking to see one’s identification which seems a little odd to me as I am asked all the time to show my driver’s license before a store will accept a credit card or cash a check or boarding a plane, or when stopped by the police. As a legal citizen this is okay but somehow becomes ‘that which must be done’ if one has entered the country illegally. Which is neither here nor there, I suppose, but it is a bit of a nuisance especially when one can’t lay one’s hands on one’s BC.

However, I do have a document which was issued when I was born by the state of Arizona called a Notification of Birth Registration which has the following statement printed on it. “PRESERVE THIS CERTIFICATE—IT IS VALUABLE” “This notification of birth registration will be valuable in proving the name, age, birthplace, and parentage of the child for school records, working rights, establishing identity, and other purposes.” Ha! What a joke. Unfortunately, this is not acceptable to the State of Utah which means I have to request a new birth certificate from the Arizona Office of Vital Statistics. This is a grim process as I was informed last time round in 1992, when I needed one for a passport, that my records were no longer in the active file because of my date of birth and that this would require a search to be made in the vaults. In my minds eye I could picture a lone figure equipped with a flashlight going up and down long rows of shelves stacked with dusty boxes hunting for the one that contains my record of birth. No wonder it takes longer—I wouldn’t want to go down there either.

I’ve also applied to the Social Security people for a new SS card which I also need to show. While I was at it I requested that my name be changed to Nellie Joanne instead of Joanne Nellie. Don’t even ask how that one happened because even if you ask I won’t tell.

The question of the day then, is this, will our heroine get what she needs in time? If not, what then? Will HGH emerge from retirement and act as her chauffeur as he did in Saudi Arabia? Stay tuned, this could get interesting. . . .

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May 15, 2010

I suppose there was one good thing that occurred this last week as I dug through file cabinets and boxes trying to find my birth certificate. (All to no avail.) I did, however, find a few things that might be of interest to family and friends who knew my father. Here is a copy of a letter that MGSK sent me in 1991. It was written in 1982.

“Dear Brother Smithson, as I respond to your request of the Sunday just past to share with you on of the treasured memories of my youth. I bear humble testimony to you that I know the Gospel is true and has been restored in its fullness in these latter days for all those who will give heed to His teachings while living here upon the earth as well as those who have been called in death who would have accepted had they heard the Gospel preached in its fullness while alive and able to participate in the necessary ordinances that can only be performed here on earth.

Like Nephi, I feel that I was born of goodly parents and I received a christian upbinging from my staunch Methodist mother. My father was rather cool to all denominations and would have nothing to do with the various sectarian churches that we came in contact with while I was growing up in the Verde Valley area of central Arizona. Though we had very little in worldly possessions and my dad’s health was such that he could do little more than a minimum amount of physical labor on our small rented farm or in a wage earning capacity, he was kind and good to us and perfectly willing for us to attend church or Sunday school with my mother. With one exception I do not ever remember of seeing my dad in a church house or attend a religious meeting of any nature. The one exception remains vividly in my memory and on this occasion an evangelist was holding nightly meetings in the community little red school house located about a mile from our home and where my brother and I and my two sisters attended school during the week and were dragged off to Sunday school by my mother. The evangelist or preacher as we called him visited our community once every year and held nightly services in the little school house for five or six nights at a time. He had built the enthusiasm of his audience up to a fever pitch on this perticular occasion to such an extent that my mother was able to persuade my dad to attend the last meeting of the week involved. My father refused to dignify the occasion by sitting as the rest of the family did but chose instead to stand just inside the back door of the building, and leaned up against the wall. The eloquent soul stirring sermon that the preacher made and the subsequent “alter call” brought several of us younger folks and one or two adults up to the front of the room where we stood as examples of the faithful who were willing to accept Christ as our Savior while the pleadings of the minister continued in an effort to save the others from hell and damnation. As my dad had not appeared at any previous meetings, the minister seemed to direct all his attention onto him and walking slowly back to the end of the building where my dad was standing, he took him by the arm to try and persuade him to accept Jesus as his savior, especially now since his oldest son had let the way. But my dad was resolute and slipped out the door that he had kept so handily at his side when he entered the building for the sermon.

My Father passed away jut a few years after that occasion and I remember how sad it made me feel, when told by some ministers that he indeed was one of the many lost souls which the devil had claimed for his kingdom. I did not understand this reasoning but as I knew no better I put up with it with a very sorrowful heart.

With this preface you can understand what a beautiful thing I found the true gospel to be, wherein it taught me that my dad whom I loved very much, was not condemned to hell because he had not accepted the pseudo teachings presented to him and that he would have the the true gospel of the Savior preached to him in Paradise and that could act as a proxie for him in the necessary earthly ordinances and under the circumstances described be as efficacious as though performed here on earth on his own body. This indeed is a glorious truth restored in these the Latter Days and I rejoice that I could not only be baptized for my dad but also with the aid of my good wife was permitted to kneel across an alter in the Temple, House of the Lord, where one with the Keys to so do, sealed my dad and my mother for time and all eternity to themselves and to their children, who I hope and pray will accept this great gospel while here upon the earth, so that we can be a family together throughout the eternities. I truly believe that His sheep will hear His voice and respond elatedly to His Alter Call.
Sincerely, your servant in the Gospel

Bro. Ford Gano

MGH was able to be with Dad and Lucille when they did the proxy work for his father in the Washington D.C. Temple in 198_. I asked him to write about this experience which he did.

Washington Temple Experience

I was with Ford and his second wife, Lucille, at the Washington Temple when they were doing the work for Ford’s father Paul Elbert Gano. During the sealing I had the distinct feeling that his father was there in the room with us observing and approving what was being done. I also had the impression that I knew him in the pre-existence.
These were not just idle thoughts, but definite spiritual promptings.
I believe I wrote this in my journal at or near the time it happened when my memory of it was fresher, but I can’t put my hand on it right now.
DeVon F. Andrus
Cedar City, Utah
16 May 2010

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April 27, 2010

Having been promised great and dreadful things to come due to a “serious” storm front moving across the great state of Utah I awakened this morning not to howling winds but a sunny sky and quiet outside. How nice! Yesterday was another straighten up the fallen as it was also trash day and once again our tipped over containers dotted the landscape which meant I again went into battle to reclaim what was mine before it slid on down the block which I am sure was the intent as ours had already abandoned the spot where I originally left it to make it’s way past the driveway where it paused for a few seconds in front of the mailbox thus allowing me just enough time to raise it from it’s prostrate position. Thank goodness the wind didn’t come up until after the trash man came and here I must leave it to your imagination to picture the grim result of flying debris all around the neighborhood if we had been caught with our cans full, if you catch my drift. Yuck.

Oops. Spoke to soon. Wind came as promised. Up North there was a gust strong enough to blow a semi over. We have been colder than normal by about 20 degrees this week which means that the plants I so optimistically purchased two weeks ago are on hold in the garage as the temperature at night keeps dropping into the 20’s and while I trust in the Lord with all my heart I also realize that he is not likely to perform a miracle in my behalf if I knowingly choose to ignore the effect of cold temperatures on tender plants.

Here’s a bit of trivia from the past. I found a little card with a handwritten note from mother that is dated June 26, 1962. It reads:

Dear Joanne & family,
Barbara says I should tell you about my success in getting rid of the bugs in the kitchen. We still have some of the little fellows but the population has greatly decreased. I got a pkg. Or box of D.D.T powder. I have sprinkled this dry under the drawers in the kitchen. I’ve sprinkled it on the shelves and put paper over the top. This keeps dishes or food from coming into direct contact with the powder. It is quite inexpensive and the most effective thing I have found.
Grants are coming this next weekend. We are planning a picnic in the park for Sunday.
Hollis is ready to be baptized but hasn’t gained the consent of his parents yet.
We got the car back Sat. It was a $750.00 job. It looks like new. We had $50.00 deductible insurance. I’m fast becoming an insurance believer.
Daddy is just about ready to plant beans. He wants to cut the grass fro hay down at Mt. Sterling this week too.
We are cleaning, sewing, ironing, gardening etc. Darlene does the milking in the evening.
Snort is having trouble with his feet again. This is the first time in quite awhile tho.
Fairbourns have had their closing out sale. They plan to leave next Monday on a trip to Ariz & Utah job hunting, I guess. Winters are going to the Temple. They are leaving this week.
Love, Mother

p.s. We are still talking Utah in August.
Nellie Juanita Waddington Gano

I believe this picture was taken around the time the above letter was written which would put mother somewhere in her middle 40’s. Sadly, although none of us knew at the time, she would be with us for only three more years. I have been taking a family history class at church and one of the things we are supposed to do is get all our materials i.e. letters/pictures/certificates together in one spot. This is a good idea and will no doubt be accomplished if the Good Lord is willing and I live long enough, which I will have to as I am so disorganized that it will take at least that long to go through all my boxes and the only hope for success I have is to live to a very old age. . . . AAR(At Any Rate) I keep turning up stray letters and pictures which I shall in turn share with you. Please return the favor and write what you remember about your years at home as a Gano Girl. We are rather unique you know! No one knows our story but us. Scary thought that, isn’t it.

P.S. They did come to Utah in the summer of 1962 to attend my graduation from BYU.

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