Saturday, April 16, 2011

THE LAW OF COMPENSATION

Out to lunch with old friends,
LaRene who is in the middle of chemotherapy,
still facing radiation,
expressed her concern for her husband of
less than two years
who nursed his first wife
in the last years of her illness;
and for 55 years has taken care
of their
Special Needs restless autistic son
who has never talked;
is gradually getting so he can’t walk.
Several times a night
he’s up with him to go to the bathroom;
changing clothes and bedding
when necessary.
“If he would just show any love,
any appreciation,
any emotion.
Does Eddy express gratitude?
Show feelings?”
Yes.
Beautifully.
And it makes all the difference.
“It’s sure good, Mom.”
“You sure look nice, Mom.”
“Do you love me, Mom?”
“That’s a kiss for you, Mom.”
“Who do you love?”
“I sure enjoyed the dinner I had last night.”
“It’s good, Mom.”
“I love this Ward, Mom.”
“I love the Shepherds, Mom.”
“Thank you for the dinner, Mom.”
“I love this planet, Mom.”
“Thank you for taking me to the play.”
“Hi gorgeous.”
"Did you have a good time last night?"
“Thanks for lunch,
even thought it was last night’s dinner.”
“Thank you for the breakfast, Mom,
and for last night’s nasty dinner.”
When his dad teasingly said “Credit Onion”
Instead of “Credit Union”,
He warns,
“Somebody sure can’t enunciate.”
And my personal favorite,
“Don’t upset your wife.”
he cautions his dad.
Each night the last thing he says
as he turns out the light is,
“I’m enjoying the earth ride, Mom.”
Everything he says thrills me.
First three years,
he didn’t talk.
“I want him to talk,” I wail to my mother
as I drive her to her radiation treatments.
“It’s okay,” Mama comforts,
“He’ll be just fine in the next life.”
“NO!
I want to get to know him NOW.
I don’t want him to be a stranger
in our home.
I want to know what he’s thinking,
feeling, needing, hoping,
dreaming.
I don’t want his soul to be forever
locked in a silent hurt body.”
My prayers were answered.
 To this day
we spend mornings together,
playing educational games,
singing hymns,
reading,
triking,
swimming.
From 1:30 on, he entertains himself.
Selective TV watching,
music, DVD’s.
How I cherish his expressions
of love and appreciation
daily.
My heart aches for my friend LaRene,
her husband and his son.
And to paraphrase Lance Armstrong*,
“It’s not About the Cancer.”

When Ed was 7 years old,
I wrote in my journal:
I wish he were “normal”,
with good vision and coordination
and strength and confidence.
But he isn't.
And deep down
beneath all the hurt
and prayers and wishing
and even guilt,
I feel the most precious,
peaceful bond of love,
appreciation,
and admiration
for our little seven-year-old son;
. . .sometimes in my mind,
the tables are turned,
and I feel sorry
for all the mothers
who never experience that deep repose
which transcends all other feelings.
I am sure LaRene and Gary feel
this compensation towards Jeffrey also.
*It’s Not About the Bike;
My Journey Back to Life.”  By Lance Armstrong, winner of the Tour de France a record seven consecutive times, after having survived testicular cancer.
  



Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Spring Snow


     Falling
Falling
Where does it all go?
Spring snow
Spring snow
Three days now in a row.
None on the sidewalk;
Not even a speck;
Little on our lawn;
Little on our deck.
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Melts fast as falls
It is much too late,
Doesn't Mother Nature know
For a severe spring snow?
April 9, 2011

Monday, April 4, 2011

SLEEPING WITH A MOOSE

I like summer and I like my brother and his wife to come out from Missouri but I do not like them to take me on a backpacking overnight trip.  Every year they say, “Where do you want to go this year?”  I don’t want to go at all.  My feet hurt.  I hate the uneven terrain.  I only like to walk on sidewalks.  Do they listen to me?  No.  They go right ahead and start gathering food and tents and sleeping bags.  Why don’t they pay attention?  I don’t want to go.
We are driving clear to Logan and hiking up Green Canyon.  I like the ride up.  I enjoy the scenery but I do not want to hike in.  No way.
We unload the cars and put on our backpacks.  “You can make it,” my brother says as he pats me on the back, “it’s only a mile or so.”
I think Mom is in cahoots with them because she helps load me up.
I do not want to do this.
I want to be in my own room listening to my music.
I’m sure it’s more than a mile.  “Are we there yet?”  I’m tired.
We finally came to a meadow by a stream.  “A perfect camping spot,” my brother says. 
We pitch three tents.  My mom and I are in one tent; Brent, my brother, and his wife Jan in one tent; and my sister Amy and her two friends, Bonnie and Becky, in another tent.
They cook a Dutch Oven dinner.  I’m always hungry but I don’t want to help.  I’m tired from that long hike.
I like to visit around the campfire.
We all go to bed.
During the night, we wake up scared.  We hear heavy breathing and something is pawing our tent.  I hear my mom pound on the tent and yell “Git!”  “Git!”
Is it a bear?
A mean guy?
What?
It gits.  
Clappidy, clappidy, clomp, clomp!
It seems like a long, long time but I finally fall back to sleep.
Oh no.
Heave – snort – heave – snort.
When Mom yells “Git” and pounds on the tent again, Brent calls from his tent.  “Mom!  Are you OK?  STAY IN YOUR TENT!  I THINK IT’S A MOOSE.”
“No,” Mom calls back, “it’s bigger than a mouse.  It’s at least a badger!”
Mom peeks out the window and sees Brent’s flashlight shining around.
It’s too dangerous to go out.  Even Brent says he is petrified; not knowing if it’s an animal with respiratory problems or a derelict human.
"I SEE IT.”  Brent is excited.  “IT’S A BIG ONE.  A THOUSAND-POUND MOOSE,”
“A MOOSE?” Mom yells. “He’ll eat us alive.”
“Moose are vegetarian,” Amy calls from her tent.
“Does it have to eat the grass right under my tent?” Mom asks.
By now, everyone is awake and chattering about the big moose.  More than one.  Two or three.  Did we camp by their waterhole and on their dinner?
When daylight finally came, Mom asked how I liked sleeping with a moose.
“I don’t,” I told her. “I’m glad you were here to tell him.  Of course, you treated him like a dog, telling him to ‘git’ three times.”
After breakfast as we were taking down the tents, I decided it was a rather exciting night, so I bragged, “I slept with a moose last night.  Not you, Mom.  I mean the animal.  You’re OK.  I sure enjoyed that moose last night.”
We had so much fun talking about sleeping with a moose all the way back to the car that I forgot my feet hurt and that I hate overnight backpacking hikes.  I can’t wait until Brent and Jan come out next summer.

For my writing class.  From Ed’s point of view, present tense.  It happened in 1995.


Monday, March 28, 2011

Humility and Gratitude


I’m intrigued with Buddhism.
I like their teachings and beliefs.
They are so confusing.
I’ve been listening to the Zen podcasts for several months now and still have no idea what they are talking about but I like them.  They soothe me.  As I’m listening, I have a reverence for all things good and beautiful, including myself and everyone I know.
 This is a story told on humility:
This Buddha teacher is meditating in front of the alter.  “I’m nobody,” he chants.  “I’m nobody.”
Another monastic type, also meditating, says, “I’m nobody.  I’m nobody.”
The janitor hearing them, goes over and kneels in front of the alter, chanting, “I’m nobody.  I’m nobody.”
The teacher leans over to the monk and whispers:
“Look who thinks he’s nobody.”

A story on enlightenment, followed by a story told by Frances Lee Menlove on gratitude:
“How long will it take to be enlightened?”
“Ten years.”
“What if I really try hard, how long will it take?”
“Twenty years.”
Devotional
Gratitude:  A Contagious Choice
by Frances Lee Menlove
I recently visited a Buddhist monastery in Korea.  The monk who greets us suggested we open our minds and let the winds waft through them as we proceeded up the stairs to the ancient temple.  Open your mind as I tell you a story; listen deeply, and let this ancient tale have its way with you.
There were two Buddhist monks, one somber and one joyful, living miles apart.  The first monk prayer all day long in deep motionless silence.  The second monk would sing and dance his praises to God near a huge tree in the monastery garden.
One day, an angel appeared to the first monk and said, “I have come from God.  You have been given permission to ask God one question.  What is your question?”  The somber monk looked up and asked, “How many more lives must I live before I attain self-realization?”
The angel left him and reappeared miles away to the second monk, who was singing and dancing before God.  The angel said, “I have come from God.  You have been given permission to ask God one question.  What is your question?”  “Without hesitation, the joyful monk, asked, “How many more lives must I live before I attain self-realization?”  And with that, the angel disappeared.
One week later, the angel returned to the somber monk and said, “I have the answer you seek.  You must live three more lives before you attain self-realization.”  Hearing this, the first monk fell dejectedly into heavy sobbing, “Three more lives, three more lives.  Oh, no,” he cried, “three more lives.”
The angel left and appeared to the dancing monk.  “I have your answer,” the angel said, “Do you see that tree around which you have been dancing and singing your praises to God?”
“Yes,” replied the joyful monk.
“You must live as many more lives as there are leaves on that tree before you will attain self-realization,” the angel said.
The monk looked up at the tree and said, “Why, there must be ten thousand leaves on that tree.  Only ten thousand lives?  Only ten thousand more lives, and I will attain self-realization!”  And the monk began to sing and dance joyfully before God.
Suddenly a deep voice thundered from heaven, “My child, this day you have attained self-realization.”
This story depicts gratitude as almost a state of being.   The joyful monk is an example of President Hinckley’s assertion that gratitude is the essence of worship.  Being grateful for the shining moon, the orange on the counter, and the open book on the table.  Grateful when the right word comes to mind, when a name is remembered—and a sense of humor when it doesn’t.  Grateful for the laughter of the kids running around the front yard.  Grateful for the astounding space photographs taken by the Hubble telescope.  Grateful for the gift of life. 
 **********************************************
After reading this, my brother DeLoy, the poet, wrote:
Tale of Two Monks

One Buddhist monk
Was most grateful;
He had great spunk.

The other monk
Somber, fearful;
His life kerplunk.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

The Size of Things

MEASURING THE HUGH GRANDKIDS
Brigitte born April 7, 1996
Jonathan born July 26, 1996
Isaak born December 25, 1997
Klarissa born February 27, 2001
Naomi and Amanda born October 26, 2002
Karlton born April 2, 2003

Elizabeth measuring Brigitte & Jonathan.  12/13/10

Jonathan and Isaak

Isaak discovered a way to be taller!

Jonathan (14) & Klarissa (9)

Jonathan (14) and Karlton (7)

Brigitte & Jonathan March 19, 2011 - 3 months later
Klarissa (10) & Naomi (8)
 
Klarissa (10) & Amanda (8)

Karlton (almost 8) & Naomi (8 years 5 months)

Karlton & Amanda

Klarissa (10) & Karlton (8)






And that's about the size of it!
No one else would notice,
but in December,
decorating the Christmas tree,
Jonathan is wearing
my old Gap fleece;
while in March
walking to the park
with all of the grandchildren,
Brigitte is wearing it.
Is the Gap still in business?
*******
What do I know?
Tonight when I put the fleece on
to go for a walk through the hollow,
it said not Gap
but Old Navy!

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

EMILY ALVIRA HOYT

I mentioned in a blog (called Rachel) that my Grandmother Esplin had 12 children and only five of them lived to adulthood; and that my Aunt Hattie had told me that her mother was strong and healthy and had strong and healthy babies—nine babies all living to adulthood--, and that my grandmother was weak and sickly and had weak and sickly babies.  I mentioned that I didn’t know if that were true. 
This is what I have learned since.  In talking to our cousin, Lillian, Shirley found out that our grandmother had the Rh factor.  That was a big problem in those days.  Many babies died.  Lillian’s mother, Lillie, had Rh factor and she almost lost her life and the baby when her third child, Duane, was born.  That doesn’t mean you are weak and sickly. 
Verna Pugh told Shirley that Grandma made three kinds of bread for meals to please everyone she was feeding.  Grandpa like salt-rising bread.
Shirley wrote:  After reading your blog Jeanette, I've thought a lot about our grandmother Esplin, where you said that Aunt Hattie had said that our grandmother was sickly and her children all died and her mother was well and none of her children died. We can't reconstruct what we don't know. There are a few comments from those who knew her, particularly Aunt Lillie that would counter Aunt Hattie's statement. Lillian said her mother had told her that she was unhappy in the same household with the other wife. Our grandmother did all of the housework and meal preparation. Velma told Lucy and I that her memory of the other wife was that she wore a silk dress day in and day out. That she never went out. She had a hump back. Verna Holgate Pugh was a good source. Nan and VeRene visited with her often. Verna greatly admired our grandmother. She spent a lot of time with her. She felt closer to Grandma Esplin than she did to her own mother. Verna also said that Grandma Esplin had to remind Grandpa that he needed to spend time with his other family. He seemed to feel more at home with our grandmother. I know he loved the children from his other wife and kept in touch with them.. Nan said Grandpa and Grandma Esplin were worriers. Compared to her Heaton grandparents who were fun-loving. She said when she climbed a tree, Grandma Esplin worried she would fall. Grandma stood under the tree with her apron stretched out to catch her.
I don't think it was a very kind remark for Aunt Hattie to make to say that our grandmother was sickly and her children died. In those days epidemics of typhoid, diphtheria, measles, scarlet fever, small pox, and whooping cough took a toll on the young. The children in the family who died when they were older would have survived had they lived today with penicillin and today's medical knowledge.
I have three original letters that Grandma Esplin wrote to Daddy.  This is the one she wrote a month and a half before he got married:
St. George Utah, August 28, 1927         Dear Lynn,  I was surely disapointed when I didn't get to see you when we came by I had to cry a little, I had so many things I wanted to ask you about, but maybe you did not want to talk to me both times.  I was up there you didn't seem to care or want to see me very much.  I wanted to know just what you wanted me do do about your clothes it will soon be somebody else to do for you, we didn't get down here till after dark we staid in Cedar quite awhile Pa wanted to see the doctor and Israel had some business to see about it rained quite hard just before we got here and after and it has been raining quit a lot today it seems just the same it makes me more lonesome because I had counted on seeing you before I came.  Write as soon as you get time, if you feel like you want to Lynn.  I love you and want to do all I can for your happiness.  from your mother (Emily Alvira Hoyt)
This letter was written 1½ months after Mama and Daddy were married.  Daddy's parents had gone to Riverside to help their daughter, Lillie, when she had her second baby.
167 E Ninth
Riverside, Calif.
Nov 27, 1927
Dear Lynn and Amy, I received your Letter was sure glad to hear from you  I sure thought I would answer Amy's letter before this it was such a nice letter and it made me feel good to get it I am sure glad you folks are getting along So well and you have my faith and prayers that you will always feel that way we have been here a week today and it seems about a month since we left St. George Lillie and baby are getting along alright now.  Lillie had quite a time with her stomach for the first four days she is in a maternity cottage in stead of a hospital she will be home Wednesday or Thursday I will be glad when she comes...it upset Pa coming down traveling in the night and he has been nervous and has not slept very good and that means I have not had much sleep since we got here and I am to sleepy to write..the 29 Pa and Frank went of yesterday morning before daylight so Wendell and I had the house all to ourselves till dark we received Lawrence and Lucy's letter yesterday and will answer them in a day or two pa says he will be in St George on the fifth of Dec  Maybe you can't read this letter write soon from your loving Mother

And then this letter, written two years later when Shirley was eight months old:
Orderville, December 10, 1929
Dear Lynn, I was sure glad to get your letter.  I was begining to wonder if you had forgoten you had a Mother that loved you just as much as ever and thought about you and prayed for you every day.
You are beginning to find out what it is to have a family  somebody to do for and think and worry about besides yourself  we are quite well I guess Lawrence told you about Willard  he has sure been sick but they seem to think he will get alright  Israel and Chastie are both down there with him now  Lenna came home yesterday and her and Levoy will go back down Thursday and Israel and Chastie will come home  Lenna says she is going to stay down there as long a Willard does and that will be a month or more  Lawrence has bought William Heaton's place  if they move away are you and Amy going to have part of our house  it is to big for us  we would need to have the water fixed differ't and some other changes made but mabe you do not want to  I would sure like it if you would it is bed time so good night from your loving
                                         Mother
PS I am sending Lillie's letter thought mabe you would like to know how they are getting along

Letters say a lot.
EMILY ALVIRA HOYT
by Lillie Esplin Harmon
My mother, Emily Alvira Hoyt Esplin, was born the 8th of December, 1858, in Nephi, Juab County, Utah.  She was the daughter of Israel Hoyt and Clarissa Amanda Miller Hoyt.  She was the sixth child in a family of ten children.
Emily spent her younger years and until after she was married, under pioneer conditions.  She learned early how to knit and from the time she was six or seven was expected to knit her own stockings.  All clothes were handmade and the girls learned early to sew a fine seam and to hem.  They would have a good woolen dress for Sunday best in winter; for school a woolen dress (probably last year’s best), with a pinafore apron.  In summer they had calico prints and if mother wanted a dress with ruffles, it was up to her to hem all the yards of ruffles by hand.  A piece of ribbon for her hair was a rare luxury.
Mother had curly dark brown hair and blue gray eyes.  As a child she wore her hair in ringlets.  She said she would much rather have had her hair in two braids, like her sisters wore theirs; but she had a small round bald spot, caused by an infection on the back of her head.  Right where the part would come if she wore her hair in braids, so she had to suffer with curls, imagine that.
Her first school was in the home of her teacher.  Sometimes the older girls were expected to take turns tending the teacher's baby.  At home she learned to sew, knit, embroider, crochet, cook, and make soap.  In her teens she learned how to spin yarn.
Her father and mother were a part of the Muddy Mission, along with the Esplins, Samuel Claridge, Isaiah Bowers and the George Harmons.  When my mother was twelve years of age, they were released from the Muddy Mission and they moved to Long Valley in March.  They settled first in the somewhat established town of Mt. Carmel.  When the United Order was established in 1875, they moved further east and established a new town there.  In the company going to Long Valley was the Esplin family.  Margaret Esplin was just Mother's age, and one of her best friends and of course, she couldn't help noticing how Johnny Esplin was growing up -- fourteen now and growing tall.
When Mother was fifteen years old, the Saints were counseled by President Young to organize the settlements in Long Valley under the principle of the United Order.  Those who were in favor of the United Order decided to move a few miles up the valley and build a new town, which they called Orderville.  Mother's father, Israel Hoyt, was heartily in favor of this way of life as given by the prophets of this Latter-day Church.  He was chosen as the first president of the Order when it was organized in Mt. Carmel.
On the 10th of July, l876, when Mother was seventeen, she was married in the Salt Lake Endowment House to John James Esplin.  They were blessed with twelve children.
Mother didn't do much traveling.  One outstanding trip she made was to go with father to Salt Lake to the dedication of the Salt Lake Temple.
In 1924, and for several years after that, Mother and Father worked as ordinance workers in the St. George Temple.
On February 17, 1930, she passed away.

In checking how we are related to royalty both in the Church and in the world, all our connections come through Grandma Esplin.  We share common ancestry with George H. W. Bush, Joseph Smith, Edgar The Peaceable, King of England, and William Shakespeare all through the Hoyt line.
—and that’s My Tribute to my Grandma Esplin, who died six years before I was born, and two months after she wrote the above letter, just to set the record straight. 

Saturday, March 5, 2011

TO MY FAMILY

January 5, 2011

I’m bummed tonight.
We got the results of our blood tests back today.
I have sugar diabetes also.
Additionally, my cholesterol is 305.
It doesn’t seem to matter how much you exercise;
How well you eat;
There’s still trouble brewing.
I guess that’s the way we get out of here.

I forgot to tell you my last bit of bad news.
I also have osteoporosis
(mainly manifest in lower back pain).
Of course, I already knew that but
I thought it would go away with my good intentions.
The doctor thinks my Hashimoto's Disease
is more insidious than sugar diabetes.
It's an autoimmune disease and can lead to lupus,
fibromyalgia, cancer and pages of other possibilities.

To sum it up,
I think I have a pretty impressive resume’
considering how healthy I am:
Tumor that has taken my
hearing and balance on one side
leaving incessant pounding in my deaf ear.
Osteoarthritic knees that hurt
if I move or don’t move.
Acid Reflux.
Bowel Blockage.
Bleeding horrible hemorrhoids.
Chronic bladder infection.
Intermittent Staph infection
(along with Eddy).
Infertility:
Surgery for endometriosis.
Artificial eardrum;
Mastoid surgery.
Lump removed from breast.
Oh, yes, and broken shoulder;
From a nasty ski fall
that left me many a night
wishing I had asked them
to just cover me over with snow;
rather than carry me off the mountain.
Allergic reactions;
Now I’m supposed to be gluten intolerant.
Bread is the staff of life
For goodness sake.
Corns, root canals, crowns, TMJ, plantar warts.

Oh forget it; too many.
Yet none debilitating
Like so many live with everyday.
I can still walk and swim
and ride my trike.
Hear some.
See some.

Joy.

Actually,
Ed said it best:
“I’m enjoying the earth ride
so get off my back.”