60 Snapshots of my Childhood #41-50

41. I don’t know why, but I was the only one who school-hopped my first few years of grade school. I went to Washington for first grade, Chico for second grade, then I joined my siblings at Marion in third grade. Another girl and I were at the top of the class that year. That was fun. She was moved ahead to the next grade, but I wasn’t. I didn’t really mind, though I missed her friendship. Somehow I knew it was best.

42. Every summer growing up we took a family vacation. Most of the time my mother drove with eight small children and without Dad, with no disposable diapers or other modern conveniences. Once every few years we would go to California and Disneyland, but most often we headed for Utah. In the days before freeways, air conditioning and seatbelts, we would lay every direction in the station wagon, our feet and arms hanging out the windows. We would read or sing, sleep or play travel bingo or other games. Even with the Burma Shave signs the trips seemed interminable as we counted mile markers to each town.

43. Many summers we stayed at my Uncle Carmi’s farm in Tremonton, Utah, which was pure delight for us city children. I loved their little farm house, the sights and smells of the farm, the summer lightening storms. I have memories of milking cows and drinking their warm milk, playing in the hay in the loft, my uncle holding me in his lap and letting me drive the tractor (not very well), getting food from the underground fruit cellar, and playing endless games on the farm. We loved the old pump organ that was stashed in the barn. All my life I have been grateful for my experiences on the farm, and with my salt-of-the-earth aunt and uncle.

44. Every two or three years my paternal grandparents, Wilford and Josephine Spilsbury Bramwell, held a 3-day family reunion in Utah. One day was spent at Lagoon where we swam and rode rides all day. I loved the fun house! They always had a catered lunch and a program. Another day we dressed up for a nice restaurant dinner and went to Liberty Park for pictures. The third day we went to Ogden canyon to fish at a hatchery, picnic and play ball. I grew up knowing all my 60 or so relatives on my Dad’s side.

45. Sometimes for our Bramwell reunions we stayed in adjoining rooms at Scotty’s Motel on west North Temple. It had a deep swimming pool and a kiddie pool, with a tall water slide between them (for looks only) and life-size characters from Snow White. One day when I was still little, I wondered if I could touch the bottom of the deep end. I climbed down the ladder near the diving board and propelled myself to the bottom. I touched! But when I tried to come up it was much farther, and though I thrashed and paddled, I couldn’t find the surface. I was just beginning to panic when my older brother saw me and yelled at someone to grab me. I think it was Jane who pulled me to the top so I could breathe. I was very grateful to be saved from my stupidity, and humbly returned to the kiddie pool.

46. My baby sister Rhonda was born at Harrison Memorial Hospital, just down the street from Marion Elementary. One day we were allowed to run down to the hospital during school hours and talk to my mother from outdoors though the window. We were so excited for a new baby sister, and adored her.

47. My senior year in high school somehow I was elected president of the Chamber of Commerce, which put me in charge of Homecoming. On the night they crowned the homecoming queen, a teacher and I were the only ones who knew who it was. The lights were turned down, and then I handed bouquets to the escorts, who in turn would give them to their date when the lights went up, the red one identifying the queen. It was fun to be part of that, and to be a “mother-hen” to the most popular girls in school who were on the court. The new queen was Robin, a girl who had just joined the Church -- not pretty like the others, but the friendliest girl in school. Sometimes there’s justice – even in high school.

48. Every summer my father’s receptionist took a month’s vacation from his doctor’s office, and my sisters and I took our turns working in her place. It was my first job experience, and I learned a lot about my dad. One day, the summer after I graduated from high school, a patient came in that I knew. It was one of the most, if not the most, popular girl in my high school. She was pregnant. I don’t know how, but I managed to show her to the examining room. Then my father asked me if I had prepped her for her exam. “Dad, I just can’t!!!”, I pleaded. He understood and I didn’t have to. I’ll never forget how awkward it all was, how sorry I was for her, and how glad I was that I had the gospel. That was much better than being popular any day!

49. It was always interesting riding in the car with my father. Sometimes we’d go with him to the hospital, or on house calls, clam digging at the ocean, or to High Council speaking assignments (from Forks to Olympia) when he’d asked us to speak to use up some of his allotted time. He drove some interesting cars in his lifetime, including a little round lime-green Borgwaard. He loved a convertible, and would put the top down anytime it wasn’t raining, no matter how cold and miserable we were. It was always an adventure riding with him because he didn’t keep his eyes on the road much. He could always spot animals in the trees, identify flora and fauna on the side of the road, and loved to look at the scenery. He took different routes on the way home from work each day so he could look at people’s yards and gardens. It’s a mystery how he stayed on the road at all. He also liked to “straighten out the curves” on freeways and freely wove from lane to lane. Did my mother know the danger we were in? or what an education we were getting?

50. The most interesting thing about my Dad’s cars was the trunk. It was always full. Most days he fed his high energy with soda pop. He bought cases of it in glass bottles, mostly Pepsi, directly from the local bottling company. He always had plenty to hand out to others. If he found a Church book he liked, he’d buy a case and keep it in his trunk, to give to people he saw. At Christmas time he filled his trunk with game, usually frozen pheasants bought at a local farm. Then whoever was old enough to drive or help would load the family trunk and deliver them to friends, patients, doctors and pharmacists around town. My dad was known as a generous man for several reasons; much of that generosity came out of the trunk of his car.

60 Snapshots of my Childhood #31-40

31. When we were small my mother had an old ironer where she sat and ironed all our clothes. I haven’t seen one like it since I was little. She often dressed us in little Buster Brown knit clothes, and even ironed them. We loved to run around the basement while she ironed. I remember a wringer washer too, though it was rarely used.

32. In the summers we were allowed to stay up and watch old black and white movies on TV. Somehow we got the idea that whoever stayed up the latest won. We stayed up even after the stations all went off the air and only the test pattern showed. When I got older I secretly tried to stay up later than my oldest sister Pat who was 3 years older. Gee, wonder why I’m such a night owl.

33. Our clocks were always set 10 minutes fast to help us get places on time. It didn’t work. We all knew they were fast. With 8 children, and most of them primping girls, we just never got anywhere on time. Gee, wonder why I’m still running late.

34. Birthdays were usually family affairs, rarely a party with friends, especially for us younger kids. One year I was really surprised when I was eating breakfast in my pajamas and my mother walked in with my friends for a surprise birthday party for me! I think it was my 8th birthday. I got fins for my birthday that year and I wore them swimming all day - for hours. When I got out of the water I found I had worn them too tightly and they had worn the skin away on my ankles. I had big wet scabs for weeks, and still have the scars to show for it.

35. My busy mother usually bought a bakery cake for birthdays, and told me later that she always felt guilty that she didn’t make them herself. When I raised my own children, I couldn’t afford bakery cakes and always felt guilty that they had to have home-made, even though I decorated some pretty cute ones over the years. To this day I still love bakery cake .

36. I learned to ride a bike while my parents were away on a trip (Nassau or Hawaii). I did it all alone, and hurt myself a little when I couldn’t stop and went over the cement curb into a shrub by the garage. I had to wait forever while they unpacked all their souvenirs before they would come see what I had learned.

37. I spent many hours in our front room pitching wiffle balls to my older brother who was the captain of the high school baseball team (and football and basketball). I was the one he preferred to do that, and my mother let us even though we had two large picture windows in that room. I got to be a pretty fair pitcher.

38. My father had a small plane and I loved to go anywhere anytime with him in it, even though I usually ended up wetting myself or getting sick. We went to parades in Portland, rodeos in Pendleton, dog shows in Canada, and lots of interesting places. It was always amazing to me to fly high above the earth and through the clouds. It always gave me a new perspective.

39. My little brother John never water-skied with the rest of us. One cool, cloudy day when no one else was home, John asked me if I would drive for him. I did a lot of the driving for skiers. I was surprised, but he was persistent, so I took him out. He fell a lot, but with every fall he got noticeably better. In a very short time he was skiing, on one ski even, almost as good as anyone else. It was a very cool thing to see. I realized that he didn’t want to learn in front of everyone else, and took advantage of the privacy of that day.

40. My memory of my own experience learning to water ski always fills my heart with gratitude. I was taught, not by my own family, but by friends of ours that were using our dock. I was having a lot of trouble getting up. We tried and tried for what seemed like hours. I had been around the whole 2-mile lake trying. I wanted to give up; I didn’t think I could ever get it. But the kind lady, Muriel, would not let me give up. I’m sure the male driver was dying. Finally, finally I made it up. How happy and relieved we ALL were! And I rarely had trouble ever again; I just needed to feel once what it felt like to get up. But I never learned to ski on one ski; I always liked the security of two feet on the water.

The Queen of Everything

The Queen of Everything is a character drawn by the artist Mary Engelbreit. You can find her image on t-shirts, mugs, calendars, stationery, and more.

There’s another place I think it should be etched:
in our hearts and minds.

One of the drawings of The Queen of Everything shows her with one hand raised high and in her other hand is a scroll with all her demands on it, so long that it falls to the floor and keeps on rolling. The caption reads, "The Queen Has Spoken!" That is not the kind of queen I’m talking about.

We are all daughters of a Heavenly King, and in His Celestial Kingdom, any girl can qualify to become a queen:

You shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities and powers, dominions, all heights and depths—
you shall pass by the angels, to your exaltation and glory in all things.
Then shall you be above all, because all things are subject unto you. (D&C 132)

Doesn’t that sound like a Queen of Everything?
This is the promise given to those who enter into the New and Everlasting covenant, which includes all the laws and ordinances of the gospel.

The King of Heaven has taught, trained and tutored His daughters to this end.
The Prince of Peace has paid and paved The Way.
The only thing we need to do is to come to the Throne of God with credentials, proof of covenants made and kept, to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven and to be a Queen of Everything.

If you don’t, then you may be a Princess of Quite a Lot --
or a Prince of What’s Leftover.
But that’s never as good as being queen.

After all, “It’s Good to be Queen.”

Very good.

(Trademarks of Mary Engelbreit)

10 more of my 60 snapshots

21. One day in a youth Sunday School class we were learning about someone who didn’t believe in the gospel. I remember wondering out loud, “How can anyone not believe the Church is true?” A wise Sister Haneberg said, You say that now, but you just wait a couple of years and you too will start to have your doubts.
“Not me,” I thought.” I’ll never doubt it.”
Well, she was right. As I entered my teens I began to have questions about the Church. At first I was shocked that I would have doubts. Then I remembered what she said, and figured it must be normal to question what you had been taught.
I knew some people who sat in their box of “I don’t know” and I didn’t want to do that. So I made it a life’s quest to find the answers to the questions I had. It has been a very interesting journey, and truth has withstood any test I’ve given it.

22. My mother was a busy lady, so we got used to waiting for hours for her to pick us up, and sometimes forgetting about us altogether. One time she forgot I had a roller skating party after school. It was a Mutual night, so after waiting for hours I decided to walk home. It was pouring down heavy Northwest rain the whole way. I had a double-stack of heavy school books. The walk was probably about 5 miles, and, yes, much of it was uphill. I remember talking to myself the whole way home, going through the different stages of anger and forgiveness, misery and enjoyment, as I soaked through. My mother spotted me on a quick run to the grocery about half a mile from home. She felt so badly. She put me right into a hot tub, and nursed me the rest of the night. Then I felt badly for her.

23. We drove to Utah most summers (before freeways) and at one time had a black Kaiser, a regular sedan. Mom drove with 8 kids crawling all over the car, and no disposable diapers. One time the roof of the car caved in. And at least once all our clothes that had been strapped to the top of the car came loose and flew all over the highway.

24. In the “old days,” we bought marshmallows in a box, 12 to a box, with tissue paper and a very fine powdered coating. They were a nice confection, not the air-filled tasteless marshmallows of today. I snitched in them whenever I could. One Christmas I found a box, my very own box, in my stocking. That day I knew my mother really loved me.

25. My dad decided to enlarge the basement. Because we were little, he had us crawl under the house into the crawlspace to dig out dirt until he could fit in. It was very dirty, dark and spidery, and hard work. We would never say the word hell, or probably even think it, but it was not a fun place. Dad broke his finger one day pushing the wheelbarrow through the narrow cement opening that had been the little door, but continued to work into the night. It was hard to complain after we saw what he was willing to do.

26. We had a little red battery-run car for the kids to drive around the driveway. It had a “gas” pedal and brakes, a horn, lights, and really drove like a car. It was open, no top, and made of steel, not a plastic toy like today.

27. To give my mom a break from cooking, we often went out to dinner after morning church on Sunday. Most often we went to the back of Olberg’s Drug Store. I thought it was really fancy at the time, but realized later that it was just the back of a drug store. Dad never came, so I don’t know how much of a break it was for my mother to handle 8 very active kids in a restaurant. But those open-faced hot roast beef sandwiches sure seemed fancy.

28. I took a liking to cooking early in my life, and was often in the kitchen watching my mother, or watching cooking shows on television. For a while, my specialty was Puffed Omelet. It’s an omelet with beaten egg whites folded into the yolks to make it puffy, and we had a special pan that folded it in half. I made them every day after school.

29. All of us girls took dancing lessons. We took tap, ballet, and tumbling until high school. I think I was just getting into toe shoes when we gave it up, and I didn’t take tumbling long enough to learn flips with no hands. My mother made our costumes for our annual recitals. My favorite was my Little Red Riding Hood costume, with a tutu as always. My favorite ballet was to Waltz of the Flowers.

30. When I was still in grade school my mother let me go to the movies with a boy named John. She dropped me off at the theater and I think another couple joined us. After the movie we went down the street to a diner and had chili. I didn’t think of it as a date until I was there, and the boy was really, really nice (and tall), but I don’t know what my mother was thinking! I didn’t do that again for many years.

Snapshots from My Life

In honor of my 60th birthday, I decided to record 60 snapshots from my childhood.

I thought it would be hard, but maybe I’ll live to be a hundred since that’s how many I came up with.

I won’t bore you to death with them all, but here’s 20 to start with.

My sisters may rightly dispute the facts, but these are my memories.


1. My earliest memory is standing in the living room looking at my mother in the hall of our small project house. It snapped in my brain like a photograph. It’s the only memory I have of that house.

2. I remember seeing the big white house on Kitsap Lake for the first time. The upstairs rooms were huge, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, walk-in closets and attics, and even a cool portal window in one of the closets. It was years later that I learned about The Secret Room, where bootleggers hid their wares during Prohibition.

3. In first grade at Washington Elementary, and there was a black boy who was in love with me. He always chased me at recess and wanted to kiss me. One day he cornered me. When everyone else had gone back to class, a teacher intervened to break the stalemate, and insisted I let him kiss me so we could all go back to class. I let him peck me on the cheek.

4. One day in 3rd grade I was standing around my teacher’s desk with some girls while the others were outside at recess. I don’t know what I said, but Mrs. Lumley said, “Georgia, just because your dad is a doctor doesn’t mean you are better than everyone else.” I was instantly horrified, totally repentant, and completely understood her, all at once. I knew she was right, and have never forgotten what she said.

5. When I was in the 5th grade, the small school library in our classroom. I was appointed the school librarian, a job I loved and cherished. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but if pressed to answer I say I want to be a librarian.

6. I was a middle child and often had to try on hand me downs. Clothes were made of stiff cottons then, and very fitted, so I got stuck many times in dresses that were too small. I hated those try-on sessions. Maybe that’s why I’m claustrophobic.

7. Every Easter my mother would take us to the upper floor of Bremer’s, the local department store owned by Mr. Bremer after whom Bremerton was named, and buy us new Easter outfits. We got the whole deal: dresses, slips, underwear, shoes, socks, coats, gloves and even hats.

8. In the sixth grade Mrs. Baker made me write 100 sentences. You’d think I’d never forget what I did and what I had to write, but I have. It was the only time in my life I was punished so. She said at the time that she knew I hated her then, but that I would thank her for it later. This wise teacher was right on both counts.

9. We had a real jukebox in the big upstairs room. It stood about 5 feet tall and played records. We danced for hours and hours, and put on shows for the family.

10. We had a large stone patio, and we liked to jump off it onto the lawn below. One day I got brave and jumped off the higher ledge, and put my front teeth through my tongue. The gash bled a lot, but you don’t stitch a wet tongue.

11. Our first boat at our house on the lake was a little dinghy. We loved to go out in it and row around the lake. Then we got a white boat that had a little motor on it. That’s the one we weren’t supposed to play on, but we did, and Kaye fell in. I remember the long, hard run up the hill to fetch my mother, seeing Sue sitting on the bow, and Kaye on her back in the water waving her arms like she was swimming.

12. One day we came home from school and there was a BIG box in our driveway. When Dad came home we opened it to find a 16’ motorboat! We always joked that it came in a box. That was the beginning of our waterskiing days on the lake. I did a lot of the driving, and I mean a lot.

13. We were coming home one day and as we started down the driveway, Kaye said, “Look at me” as she stuck her head out an open window. I blinked and she was gone! She had fallen out of the car. Cool trick, Kaye!

14. My sister was driving us to dancing lessons one Saturday morning. I got into the old convertible, leaned against the door, and she took off around the corner of the circular driveway. I hadn’t closed the door tightly, and it flew open and I flew out! I flew a good bit down the cement driveway. I was okay, but I didn’t go to dance that day.

15. Our house had walk-in attics with low ceilings that were very fun. In the largest attic, we spent hours playing business, or we would play school where I taught my little sisters what I had learned. They claim it put them ahead in school.

16. Sue, Kaye and I slept in the big room upstairs, but not much. We kept each other up late most nights playing games. This was very frustrating to my mother. Sometimes she would come and stand in the hall. I would see her and get quiet, then my sisters would eventually get the hint. Or she would come into the room and turn on the light. Sometimes she would make us get up and clean up our messy room. Or she would make us go downstairs and do dishes, which sometimes ended up in another giggling session. Nothing she did ever cured us.

17. We went through a lot of milk with 8 kids. For a while the milkman brought it to our kitchen door twice a week. Sometimes we bought it in 3-gallon glass jugs, one which Kaye broke on the back steps when she was too little to carry it. She still has a scar from the gash she got. At one time we had a milk dispensing machine like restaurants have. It held 2 5-gallon metal containers and we dispensed it through a spout by lifting a handle. I think we had chocolate milk in it too.

18. In the 5th grade I learned to play the clarinet at school. What I really wanted, but never did, was to play the oboe. I had to give up the clarinet in 8th grade because orchestra was first period and I had a constant sore throat.

19. My mother was the ward organist most of our life. She didn’t do it often, but I loved it when she played the piano at home. That’s what made me want to learn to play. I took lessons long enough to learn to read music, but I hated practicing so I quit. But when the piano got moved from the living room to the privacy of a back bedroom, I renewed my interest in learning to play. One summer I played for hours and hours every day until I could play. The first song I learned with two hands was Beautiful Dreamer. I memorized Moon River so I could play it without looking.

20. My dad loved to go clam digging at the beach on the Pacific Ocean. We had to get up in the middle of the night to catch the tides. It was a long and winding ride in the dark. We played under dark gray skies on cold gray beaches while my dad dug for clams. We rode home on winding roads with smelly clams sloshing in the back of the station wagon. I don’t know how we did it on empty stomachs, but someone always threw up. And we always went back again. That Dad wanted to take us is still a wonder to me.

Landmark

Today is my birthday.
I'm another year older.

For the most part, I have enjoyed getting older.
There is, however, a point of diminishing returns.

They say “Older but Wiser”, but sometimes you’re just older.

Today I turned 60. 60, mind you!

The birthday itself doesn’t bother me.
I’ve never had trouble turning any age, except one. For me it was 50. The day itself didn’t bother me, but coming up on it did.
As I saw it, all the fun things of life were behind me: being a child, going to school, dating, marrying, having children. And what was there to look forward to? Not much.

It's now 10 happy years later, and I’m tired. I was born tired. I was so listless as a child my mother thought I had a disease. But now I’m really tired. I find that time moves faster and I move slower. I get less done. I am spent more easily. I rest more often.

I really can’t complain. My health is good. I still work and play and maybe can still do a handspring.

It’s small stuff that gravity is winning the war with my body, and that it takes me twice as long to look half as good. By the time I’ve applied eye cream, wrinkle cream, firming cream, moisturizer, make-up, and taken all my pills, it’s lunchtime.

Being 50 was okay, kind of middle-aged. But there’s nothing middle-aged about 60. I am officially old.

Growing old is not the same thing as growing up.
The real problem is that I’m not grown up enough to be 60.

The truth be told, I’m kind of proud to be 60.
I am at last grateful to my dad for my oily skin, and to my forever-young mother. I feel younger, look younger, and think younger than some people my age.


Maybe there’s something to Peter Pan.

Maybe I don't have to grow up.

I just have to grow.




You are always the same age inside. Mary Engelbreit

I Lived to See It

Sanford Porter, my 4th Great Maternal Grandfather

“Sanford is a strange boy. I cannot make him out.”
These were the words of his father upon Sanford’s nagging questions about God, the soul of man, the Bible, and the Afterlife.

When his father died, Sanford’s questions became even more intense.

An inveterate searcher of the Bible, yet finding no satisfactory answers, Sanford considered himself “very near, if not quite, an atheist or infidel”.

Troubled by questions for years, it got to where he paced the barn by day and the house by night. Finally, he could not eat or sleep, yet was not tired or hungry, and for three days he talked to no one and no one talked to him. He spread his arms out, raised his hands, and cried aloud, “O God, if there be a God, show me the way, the right way.”
Then he heard a Voice: “There is a God, and he has known the desires of your heart this number of years. I will instruct you three times this night the way that is right.”

He lay down to sleep, and when he closed his eyes an angel in a long white robe with a red sash appeared and bid him, “Come”. Sanford was shown the Spirit World, and the order of Heaven. He was able to ask his questions and receive answers:
Was Jesus Christ the Son of God: Yes, temporally and spiritually.
Is the Bible true? Many things are lost, but true enough for salvation if read by the Spirit.
If a child dies in infancy are they doomed to hell? “No, emphatically no!”
Are there any churches that are right? “No. But the time is shortly ripe for it to come again. You may not live to see it, but your children certainly will.” This was in 1816.

About 15 years later, a couple of missionaries came to his home to tell of a new profession. They were Lyman Wight and John Corrill. For three days and nights, almost without sleep, he studied the Book of Mormon with them, and asked his many questions.

On the morning of the third day, he said, “If you have told me the truth—and I have not the least doubt of it—your church is the right church, and the only one on the face of the whole earth.” Shortly thereafter, he and his wife were baptized into the restored Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

In his journal, Sanford wrote:

“I had a vision, and I know I had a vision,” though "they (promulgators of priestcraft) called me a liar, a blasphemer, a dreamer."

“We were in a dark chamber and could find no window or door that would admit light—groping in darkness—terrible darkness. There is still darkness on the earth and in the minds of men, but nothing to compare with the gross darkness that existed before the advent of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Gospel had diffused light and warmth upon the earth, and to some extent all men are partakers of it.

“I have lived to see it!”

Georgie-Porgie

I, Georgia Bramwell, was born on August 7, the fourth child, third daughter of Glen Paul and Frances Bramwell, in the old Harrison Memorial Hospital on Marion Avenue in Bremerton, Kitsap County, Washington. My dad always introduced me as “#4”.

In those days, mothers were completely knocked out, so my mother didn’t know what she’d had until she came out of the anesthesia. She stayed in the hospital for two weeks.

I know very little about my childhood, except that I walked very late (but I’ve been slow and late my whole life), and supposedly I was a very sweet-tempered child.

When I was about 4 we moved out of Navy project housing and into a large 3-story white brick house on Kitsap Lake. Three of us, my younger sisters and I, slept in a double bed in a nook in what was called the “piano room”. When we outgrew that, we each got our own section of the large upstairs bedroom where we kept each other awake late into the night every night.

One day I was playing with my two little sisters on the dock, or, more correctly, the boat, which we weren’t supposed to do. My youngest sister fell into the water. We were too little to get her out. It took an eternity for my little legs to run all the way up the hill to the house. When I finally found my mother she was on a long distance call. I finally broke through all the shushes to tell what happened. I followed my mother down to the lake, at a much faster pace than going up, and watched her jump into the water to rescue my sister. My other sister was still just sitting on the bow of the boat, and the water was only about a foot deep, but, what can I say?—we were little and dumb. We took my dripping wet sister to my dad (the doctor)’s office where they pumped her stomach and she survived. Whew!

When I was 5, Kindergarten wasn’t part of the school system, but my mother, when she had time, drove me to a dark little house in the woods where someone was teaching kindergarten.

I was baptized at 8 into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but several months after my birthday. A new chapel was being built and I wanted to be the first one baptized there, but my mother was impatient to get me dunked, so I was the last one baptized at the old YMCA and my best friend got to be the first one in the new church. No one in my family came to my baptism.

I was considered kind of a sickly child, though I never had any serious illnesses. I had measles, maybe mumps, but I never had chicken pox nor had my tonsils taken out. I just didn’t feel well alot. It was probably psychological, but when I was in junior high I was diagnosed with a structural stomach problem that has been a small “thorn in my side” all my life. I had to quit the orchestra in 8th grade because playing a clarinet caused a constant sore throat, something I’m still prone to. Thankfully, I can’t sing for very long.

I followed three illustrious siblings into high school where they were student officers, team captains, cheerleaders, drill teamers, etc., but I laid very low and kept quiet. My senior year I was elected president of the biggest club in school, the one everyone could join. I was shocked! When I went to talk to the principal, he was shocked! “How can you be a Bramwell and I not know you!”

This late-bloomer was just beginning to bloom. During that time I was in charge of my high school’s Homecoming. I was Ward Chorister, Ward Dance Director, an assistant to the adult leaders at Girls Camp, and directed a Road Show. It was all a great learning experience for this reluctant novice.

And I hadn’t even left home yet.

Back to Adam

Take this with a BIG grain of salt, but it's fun to see the possibilities!

And maybe it will help Kathryn pick a baby name.
(I still like Printha Priscilla--ha.)

1. Adam
2. Seth
3. Enos
4. Cainan
5. Mahalaleel
6. Jared
7. Enoch
8. Methusaleh
9. Lamech
10. NOAH
11. Shem
12. Arphazad
13. Selah
14. Eber
15. Peleg
16. Reu
17. Serug
18. Nahor
19. Terah
20. Abraham
21. Isaac
22. Jacob
23. Judah
24. Pharoz
25. Hezron
26. Aram
27. Aminadab
28. Nashon
29. Salmon
30. Boaz md Ruth
31. Obed
32. Jesse
33. DAVID
34. Nathan
35. Mattatha
36. Menan
37. Melea
38. Eliakim
39. Jonan
40. Joseph
41. Juda
42. Simeon
43. Levi
44. Matthat
45. Jorim
46. Eliezer
47. Jose
48. Er
49. Elmodam
50. Cosam
51. Addi
52. Melchi
53. Neri
54. Salathiel
55. Zorobabel
56. Rhesa
57. Joanna
58. Juda
59. Joseph
60. Semei
61. Mattathias
62. Maath
63. Nagge
64. Esli
65. Naum
66. Amos
67. Mattathias
68. Joseph
69. Janna
70. Melchi
71. Levi
72. Matthan
73. Joseph of Arimathea
74. ANNA, cousin to Mary
75. Penardim
76. Bran
77. Caradoc
78. Cyllin
79. Coel King of Britain
80. Arthildis md King of Franconia
81. Clodimir King of the Franks
82. Farabert King
83. Sunno King
84. Hilderic King
85. Bartherus King
86. Clodius III King
87. Walter King
88. Dagobert King
89. Genebald Duke of East Franks
90. Dagobert King
91. Clodius King
92. Marcomir King
93. Pharamond First King of France
94. Clodio King of Westphalia
95. Sigimerus
96. Ferreolus
97. Ausbert
98. Arnoaldos
99. St. Arnolph
100. Anchises
101. Pipin of Heristal
102. Charles Martel
103. Pipin le Bref King of France
104. CHARLEMAGNE Emperor of the West
105. Pepin King of Italy
106. Bernard King of Italy
107. Pepin II King of Italy
108. Herbert I de Vermandois
109. Beatrice de Vermandois
110. Hugh the Great Count of Paris
111. Hugh Capet King of France
112. Robert II King of France
113. Adela Princess of France
114. Matilda Queen of England md William I “The Conqueror”
115. Henry I King of England
116. Matilda Empress of Germany
117. Henry II
118. John “Lackland” King of England md Isabella
119. Henry III King of England
120. Edmund Prince of England
121. Henry Plantagenet Earl of Lancaster
122. Joan of Lancaster
123. John de Mowbray
124. Eleanor de Mowbray
125. Eleanor de Welles
126. Constance Poynings
127. John Paulet
128. John Paulet
129. Eleanor Paulet
130. Anne Paulet md Thomas Goddard
131. Richard Goddard
132. Edward Goddard
133. William Goddard
134. Edward Goddard
135. Ebenezer Goddard
136. Susannah Goddard md Phineas Howe
137. Rhoda Howe md Joseph Richards
138. Phineas Richards
139. Samuel Whitney Richards
140. Maria Ann Richards md David Spilsbury
141. Josephine Spilsbury md Wilford Bramwell
142. Glen Paul Bramwell
143. Georgia Bramwell

Grandma Fran

About FRANCES CAMPBELL Bramwell

From her parent's journal:

Born January 17, 1912. Weighs 8 lbs. Hasn't very much hair.
Rather a fat baby. Has measles along with her brothers and sisters in April.
Weaned at 10 months. Also walks and climbs. Has some serious falls.
Like the other children talks rather young and says her words plain.
When she has 4 bottom teeth she falls out the door onto the step, knocks one out. Am doubtful if it ever comes in again.
She has twin brothers when she is 2 years, 7 months, 7 days old. She does love them. She would carry them both if she could.
Has pneumonia in November. Such a sick little girl. Nothing but skin and bones left and such pain.
The babies are gone. We will baby her again.
Frail all winter. Every sick spell takes her down.
Likes to stay at home with mama.
Her hair doesn't do well.
Starts to school with sister. Has the flu real bad.
Hemorrhage. (Very bad, but not so bad as Wayne's.)
Chicken Pox summer of 1919.
Whooping cough, spring of 1920. Very bad. Affected like a small baby. Afterward loses her hair.
Has mumps and gland fever winter of 1922, but is getting stronger all the time. Her hair is getting pretty now.
1925. To Utah we go where we can have fruit, fruit.

This account of my mother's childhood is very interesting to me, because in spite of her not being expected to live in her early years, I never knew her to be sick a day of her adult life. An energetic, hard-working woman, it was rare I ever saw my mother in bed. And we loved to brush her thick beautiful hair.
There were 8 children born into her family, but 3 died in infancy and one as a young adult, which left only 4 who lived long and full lives. Three of them were very close, Fran, Carmi and Gwen, their families known as the ABC's, A for Andrews, B for Bramwell and C for Campbell.

More on Fannie

From Fannie's journal:

We left for Utah on the third of July, 1850.

We traveled on the south side of the Platte River.
I was very ill with cholera and was lying so still that they were digging my grave to bury me when my life was saved by the birth of my child.

My son was born the 5th of August. When he was eight days old, the child, myself, and all our possessions were upset in the wagon and rolled down the bank of the river four or five feet into the water. All was uproar and the men searched desperately for our new son. After considerable searching, Bishop Hunter spied a little piece of his red nightgown and found him beside a box, apparently dead. He held him up by the feet and gave him the name of Alma Platte, after the river he had just been fished out of.

The baby recovered completely with no ill effects.

Praise for Pioneers

They cut desire into short lengths
and fed it to the hungry fire of courage.
Long after,
when the flames had died,
molten gold gleamed in the ashes.
They gathered it into bruised palms
and handed it to their children
and their children's children. (Chamberlain)


Jane Snyder Richards 1823-1912

It was June 10, 1846, when Franklin and Jane Richards sold their lovely two-story brick home in Nauvoo for two yoke of half-broken cattle and an old wagon. Taking with them two cows, one trunk of clothing, breadstuffs, and one pound of tea given to Jane by a neighbor, they crossed the Mississippi River to join the rest of the saints, after having been driven from Illinois by threatening mobs. Shortly thereafter, Franklin left his family to return to his mission in England.

On July 23, Jane gave birth to a baby boy who died almost immediately. Jane was desperately ill. She could not bear the thought of burying the tiny body on the plains where it could be dug up and devoured by wolves and coyotes, so they carried the little child with them until they reached Mt. Pisgah, Iowa, where he could be buried a little more decently.

Jane's only other child, little 2-year old Wealthy, had taken sick the day following her father's departure and was becoming weaker and weaker as the journey progressed toward the Missouri River. En route they passed a large potato field and Wealthy asked for a potato. It was one of the only things she had desired to eat for many weeks. When her grandmother Snyder went to ask if she could buy one, the owner's answer was, "I wouldn't sell or give one of you damned Mormons a potato to save your lives." She then sent her dog after Mrs. Snyder.

As Jane's wagon came to a halt at Mt. Pisgah, neither Jane nor Wealthy seemed to have much chance of living. They baby boy was taken and buried. Two months later her sweet little girl passed away at Cutler Park. Jane wrote, "I only lived because I could not die."

At Winter Quarters Jane gained back some strength, but her provisions were nearly exhausted. Some days there was barely enough flour for one pancake. She finally traded her husband's violin for a gallon of wine. That winter was very harsh. Jane's skirts were almost constantly frozen stiff about her ankles and would rattle as she brushed against things. There was nothing to thaw them. Scurvy broke out in the camp and hundreds died from it.

In the spring of 1848 Franklin returned from England. On July 5 they proceeded to Salt Lake City. Jane was so ill during the whole of the journey that she was bedfast in a wagon box. She had to be carried in arms across raging streams.

Three months later they arrived in Salt Lake. It would seem a relief, but Jane writes: "I can't here undertake to describe the great sufferings and privation of food and cold, for want of a comfortable house, that we passed through after three months' sickness on the way. "

The next June a son was born to her, but she was in a bed drenched with rain, with neither crust of bread nor an ounce of flour or meal with which to appease her hunger, so weak and faint and hungry that her life was despaired of. The midwife she had used demanded payment, but Jane had no money. She told her to take anything she saw for payment. The midwife seized a beautiful woolen bedspread worth at least fifteen dollars, coldly remarking, "I may as well take it, for you'll never live to need it."

Jane did regain her strength and went on to give birth to four more children. While her husband served faithfully as an Apostle, Jane presided over the Relief Society in Ogden for 31 years, and served as first counselor in the General Relief Society presidency. She died at the age of 89 and her funeral was one of the biggest ever held.

Roots

Out of the depths of our roots,
From the courage of those who have gone before us,
In the richness of our shared traditions
And by the Love abundantly given and received,
We have become strong. (Audry Brown Livingston)



Everyone is an heir.
We all inherit things from people who have gone before us.
An inheritance may be land or money or property.
It may include traits, characteristices, talents, rights, culture, traditions and blessings.

You may or may not be a direct descendant of pioneers,
but we all are blessed by the heritage they left us.

Our ancestors generously gave us a legacy of faith, courage, determination, hard work, committment and sacrifice.
That is our heritage.

We stand on the shoulders of giants.
We stand on higher ground, our vision is greater,
our lives are better because of them.

In their journals, they say --
"We did it for our children, and our children's children,
in the hopes that our freedom and our faith
will mean as much to them as it did to us."

That is why we remember pioneers: not because it's history,
but because it's our legacy.

It is for us to pass on to our children, and our children's children.




Bramwell relatives who helped build the Nauvoo temple:
George Spilsbury, husband of Fannie Smith
Phinehas Richards, brother of Willard and cousin of Brigham Young
Samuel Whitney Richards, son of Phinehas

Relatives killed at Haun’s Mill:
George Richards (son of Phinehas) when he was 15 years old.

Relatives who were in the Mormon Battalion:
Joseph Richards (son of Phinehas) died of exposure at age 17.

Relatives who came over on the Mayflower:
George Soule

Relatives who knew Joseph Smith:
George Spilsbury was a bodyguard for the Prophet Joseph Smith. He and Fannie received their partriarchal blessings from Hyrum Smith. He saw the martyred bodies of Joseph and Hyrum, then saw Brigham Young receive the mantle of the prophet, and was sealed by Brigham Young at the Endowment House in SLC.

He wrote in his journal:
“The question may be asked by some of my grandchildren: ‘Did you feel disappointed when you saw Joseph Smith for the first time?’ I will tell you. All my troubles & privations of leaving my father & mother, brothers & sisters, & my native land seemed nothing compared with the joy I experienced when I first heard and saw him, the Prophet Joseph Smith, preach. I felt greatly blessed of the Lord in having such a glorious privilege."

Fannie Smith Spilsbury

"You will be sorry."
"I can hear it just as clearly today as I did many years ago.
The voice was that of my father's.
The place was Liverpool, England."

Would you care to hear the true story of a fair, rather small young English lady?
It is the story of my great-great grandmother Fannie Smith.
It began over 6,000 miles away.
The year was 1842.

This is her story:

My home in England was very comfortable because my father was a well-to-do squire. I was his only child and love was showered upon me. I was born on Christmas day, 1823, and as he cuddled me, his first and only child, in his arms, he called me his Christmas present from God. My mother taught me sewing and embroidery and trained me in the gentle arts of beauty and culture.

One evening some girl friends came over to our house and begged me to go with them to hear some funny men from America preach about a new religion that had started in America. This was curious to me as I belonged to the Church of England, but I truly was not happy in my religion. Well, we went, giggling, to hear about the queer religion and see the Americans.

Latter-day Saint missionaries preached about their prophet, golden plates found in a hill, and other gospel principles. I was not amused. Everything they said touched me to the depths of my being. I believed every word I heard that night. Many nights after that I sought out their meetings. I wanted to join, but I knew my father would never consent. It would have to be done in secret.

Therefore I went one night and was baptized in a river where the ice had to be broken to perform the baptism. I walked half a mile home with my wet clothes freezing about me, but my spirit carried me along as if I were a cloud. As I lay in my bed that night, thinking about what I had done, I could hear an English voice, clear and distinct, say: "You are now a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint."

Later I was confirmed by one of our own curly-headed, blue-eyed English boys, George Spilsbury. We became better acquainted, and later we were married.

After our marriage, I told my father of joining the church. My father nearly disowned me. He would not let me take any of my lovely things from my home, and he made my life miserable.

We decided to go to America. My father came to me and said, "Fannie, I will put this locket and chain around your neck. Send it to me as a sign that you are sorry and want to come back, and I will make it possible." As we sailed away, my young-girl heart ached, tears streamed from my eyes, and I waved farewell. I never saw them again.

My eyes and my heart turned to my husband, and to the west, for the new home ahead of us. We never dreamed of the hardships and tragedies that we would have to endure. After a long and rough trip, we anchored at New Orleans. We had $5 I had earned on the ship sewing. We traded our clothes for pots and pans, and arranged for the dreadfully hard journey up the Mississippi River to Nauvoo.

The first time I saw Joseph Smith, I knew him, though I had never seen a picture. He and his brother Hyrum spent many hours in our home. My husband helped build the Nauvoo temple, and he acted as bodyguard for the Prophet. We were in Nauvoo when Joseph and Hyrum's martyred bodies were brought from Carthage.

Times were hard. We lived in poverty and fear. Our home was meager, and we had only boxes for furniture. I had to learn to make quilts, and there was much else to learn. Four little girls were born to us; all died in infancy. My health was poor. But I never turned my heart to England, for this was my life and these were my people.

Our exodus from Nauvoo began when the river was frozen over with ice. After a winter of illness we began the trek west. Every day was an adventure. We finally arrived in the Salt Lake Valley, eager to permanently settle and make a home. It was difficult, but we were like one big family, helping each other and working together.

After a few years we moved south to Draper to colonize there. After a few years, we moved south again, to Dixie. Then we moved again, this time our last, and settled in Tocquerville. Here we lost four more of our children. Only five of our thirteen children were allowed to stay with us.

Now I sit here in my wheelchair on my 80th birthday. I hold the locket in my hand, and I can hear my father say, oh so long ago, "Fannie, you will be sorry."
Why couldn't he have known, as I did, that I was doing the right thing for my children and my children's children? I am glad that we are in America. We hope that we have planted well, that our children's children might have the faith that was our choicest possession.

I was never sorry. No, there are no regrets.

LOL

They say that if you want to give God a good laugh,
--just tell Him your plans.

Well, He and I are having a good laugh.

Just as soon as I start talking about the free time I’m going to have, as soon as I say that out loud, my calendar and my life fill to overflowing.

Well, it was nice for a day or two to think I actually would have some disposable time.

And I’m spared from getting bored or lazy.


I just hope I still have my eyesight when I finally get some "free" time.

Free? Time

They “re-organized” at work again. They've cut my hours down to two days a week. We’ll see how long it lasts, but meanwhile I have some free time!

Free time.
Is time ever free?
My list of "Things to Do" is so long I can never die.

But for now I have some hope of tackling long-neglected projects.
I may even clean some closets.

Time is never free. It always has a cost.
Every minute costs a part of your life, your very soul, a piece of eternity.

But time also pays.
There are dividends in a job accomplished, a relationship strengthened, a memory made.

For such a valuable commodity, you’d think we’d use it better than we do.


I once took an Institute class from Hartman Rector, Jr., formerly of the Seventy. I don’t know how true it is, but he said that our lives are like a video tape, where everything we do is recorded. Happily, when we do something wrong and then repent, that part is erased.
We rejoice that it can be so, but realize that we can get to heaven with a lot of blank spots on our tape, spots that instead could have been filled with righteous things.

If someone were to watch the video of my life, they would want a remote control in their hands, to fast forward all the boring parts, all the hours I spent idly, doing nothing interesting or productive.


So, is time a friend, or an enemy?
We crave it. We curse it. We kill it.
We treasure it, count on it, waste it.
We love it, hate it, ignore it.
And it just keeps passing, gobbling up our life.


"I still find each day too short
for all the thoughts I want to think,
all the walks I want to take,
all the books I want to read,
and all the friends I want to see." --John Burrough


Whining about it doesn’t help.
It just takes time.


And if I’m making a movie, then I better get going.


Lights!

Camera!

Action!

My Funeral

To my family:

As we gathered and visited at my father’s viewing a number of years ago, some of my siblings started to talk about what they wanted and didn’t want when they died: the kind and even color of flowers, etc. I was so surprised as I had never thought about those things. I was also quite sure that it was the first time any of them had made such things known.

I have thought many times since then that if there are things we care about, we ought to tell someone, and even get it in writing.

So here’s mine. These are the things I care about:


Expenses: I do not want a lot of money spent to bury me, so don’t feel guilty if you choose the cheapest casket; I would. A pine box is just fine. Though I love a soft bed, I don’t need one when I am dead and without feeling. I’ve also learned that Costco sells caskets, and there is a casket discount store in Dallas, Texas.

Location: The one expense I may forgive is getting me out of Texas. I don’t care where I’m buried, just not Texas. Washington is home, and Cemetery Hill right in the neighborhood, but if people want to visit my grave and Utah or Nevada is more convenient, then anywhere in the West is fine with me. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble finding my body.

Speakers: Anyone who wants to speak may speak, but no one has to. I hope it's not too hard to find something nice to say about me. All to be done in praise and testimony of the Lord's goodness.

Music: This is the one area I care about.
I have joked about singing the Michael McLean song, Together Forever, because then I know everyone will, after they laugh, cry. But I’m not kidding; the music is on my piano.
The one song I really want sung was sung at my Mother’s funeral: Goin’ Home. It expresses so perfectly just the way I feel. The music is on my piano.
I have asked my son Jonathan to sing at my funeral. He can sing alone or with someone, a song of my choosing or his, but I would like him to sing. (I like Negro spirituals.)
The one hymn I care about is Be Still My Soul. Think of my testimony when you sing it.

If you want to know my other favorite hymns, they include:
Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation
Sing Praise to Him who reigns above, the Lord of all creation
Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Father in Heaven, in thy love abounding
Redeemer of Israel
Abide with me
Holy, Holy, Holy

People: I know it doesn’t always seem worth spending a lot of money to go see someone who is dead, but I’ve learned the hard way that I would like all of my children at my funeral. You might learn something about me you didn’t know, or think better of me than you have. Besides, you have to stake your claim to my junk.
Otherwise, let my siblings know and email everyone in my address book. Some old friend might miss me.

That’s about all I care about. Don’t stand out in the rain. Tell your children of my testimony. Cry for yourself if you must, but do not cry for me. I will be in Heaven, and happier than you can even imagine.

And don’t forget, I’ll be holding a place for you at my table.

Fading.....

I have a small red spot in the center of my abdomen.
It’s from the bite of some unknown critter.
I notice it every day.
Everyday it gets a little smaller and fades a little more.

I got it six months ago when I was in South Africa.

Like the red spot on my torso, my memories of Africa are shrinking and fading a little every day.
But they are still with me, still a part of me, something I notice every day.

I haven’t written much about my experience in South Africa.
I’ve never known quite what to say.
It was interesting.
It was enlightening.
It was life-changing.
But aren’t we changed by everywhere we’ve been and everyone we’ve met?

I don’t know if I’m more changed by the people I went with,
or the people I met there,
by the good things that happened there
or the not-so-happy things.


I’ve put the quilts I bought there on my beds, hung the wall-hangings on my walls, and set my Zulu dolls out. I guess I’m hoping if I look at them long enough I’ll want to write about it.
I know I don’t want to forget.


So this is a start, though not much of one.
Words seem to add color and give strength to a greying experience.


I wonder what else I should write about before it fades away.


“It’s getting dark,” my Dad often said to hurry us up.

Indeed, the night is coming on.

The Party's Over

The party’s over, but it sure was fun while it lasted.

My two oldest daughters and their oldest daughters came to visit me in Texas!

Jennifer flew in first with Kate and Megan.
A few days later Elizabeth and Rachel joined the fun.
Then Jenn’s family left and Elizabeth and Rachel stayed on.

We did some fun things together:
We cheered the knights at Medieval Times,
had Jack Sparrow as our waiter at the Magic Time Machine,
had a tea party at Alice’s (as in Wonderland), hats, boas and all,
walked the jungle with real fish and fauna at the Aquarium and fake ones at Rainforest Café,
shopped at Texas Treasures and Sam Moon’s and the Mall,
got cookies at the cookie shop and popcorn at the popcorn store,
played Rock Band, In a Pickle, and the family memory game,
wore sarongs every day,
and ate and ate and ate
and swam and swam and swam.
It was a barrel of fun.
All-night slumber parties usually are.

Now the party's over, and they've all gone home.
I'm taking my time putting the bedding and pool toys away.
I don't want it to be over.

It wasn’t quite the experience of baking cookies with Grandma that I first envisioned,
but there was just too much to do on the first visit to Texas that they will remember.

Their suitcases were fuller going home than when they came.
I hope they were filled with happy memories.

My house is quiet and empty now--
no bedding or people filling up my living room,
no shoes or towels littering the hall,
no Disney channel blaring all hours of the night.


It's quiet, but not lonely.

For I have happy memories to fill the space,
a clearer picture of each girl's face,
a closer bond and a heart that's full,
for the time I had with each, and all.

A Sister for All Seasons

It has been said that the family is the basic unit of society.
Indeed, the family is the basic unit of all of eternity.

All of us began in a family; it is our hope that we end up in a family,
and a wise Heavenly Father has put us into families in this life
to prepare us for that great possibility--and so we might have joy.

The family is still the most efficient means for producing human happiness and human goodness, as well as for preparing us for the world of immortality that is to follow.

Neal A. Maxwell

Many of us may find ourselves at sometime in our lives not living in a traditional nuclear family. We may be aged, orphaned, unattached, or in other ways not living in an ideal family. But that need not rob us of the hope of an eternal family, nor of the joys of sweet associations.

Whatever our age or stage or situation in life, we all belong to a larger social group. We belong to a father, mother and extended family, we belong to a ward family, to the human family, and always and forever to God’s eternal family.

Hence the theme for our Stake Enrichment:

A Sister for All Seasons

Whatever our season or circumstances may be, we are always and forever a sister; we are a daughter, and, whether we have children or not, a mother, a nurturer, a source of love and compassion. We have blessings and opportunities to love and be loved, to nurture and to serve, and to connect with others. In every season, we are a sister, and we have sisters.

Sometimes we might forget this, or we don’t feel it is so. We may be at home, or at work or school a lot, and feel that we are alone, or that our lives lack meaning, or we wish things were different.

I heard of a quote that someone kept on her fridge. I couldn't believe it -- it said: This is as good as it gets.
I was home with small children at the time, and I thought that was the most depressing thing I had ever heard. Is this really as good as it gets?

I’ve thought about it a lot over the years. I don’t know what it meant to that person, but I know what it has come to mean to me:

I think it means that TODAY is the stuff of which life is made,
and that we can find purpose and joy in it.

It reminds me of something one displaced woman said:
“I took the raw materials that were handed me, and I fashioned a life from it.”

Our home is the stuff, the raw materials, we have to work with—
to shape a life, to build a character, to leave a legacy.
(Those of you who have children know something of working with raw materials.)

Another sign that hangs on the fridge in my mind is from Ann Madsen:
"I have learned in my home what I know about godliness. And the theory I learn other places, if not applied at home, is useless.”

Home is the laboratory of life, the place where we learn and we teach and we practice for eternity. It is where we develop the attributes and characteristics we inherited from Heavenly Parents. It is where we have the greatest influence on others to live better than we have.

We owe it to those we love to be the best that we can be. We owe it to ourselves; we owe it to our Heavenly Father and to our Savior.

We can do that in any season of our life. As sisters, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, cousins and friends, we can give the highest and the best in us, in every season.

Season is a noun, but it is also a verb; it is something we do. We can season, salt, spice up, and add flavor to the lives of those around us, as we are strong and righteous, positive and fun, kind and caring.

This is it. This is as good as it gets. This is life --with all its agonies, and there are those, and its ecstasies, --every day opportunities to live and learn and love and laugh, to serve and grow, and to be happy.

I want you to know that I know that God is our Father;

we are sisters, truly, every one.

And… it does get better! for --

Eye hath not seen nor ear heard what glorious things God hath prepared for those who love him.

He has done His part.

He is counting on us to do our part--

to return Home to Him,

arm in arm with those we love,

and to have joy in the journey.

I pray that we will.