Your Stairway Lies on the Whispering Wind

I was at KFC yesterday for lunch (I love those Honey BBQ wings.) The radio on their PA system played "Stairway to Heaven." It's been awhile since I heard that. Yes, in retrospect it is very dated, iconic, even dorky and it is the quintessential epic rock ballad. Now, I can't help but think of Dana Carvey singing "Chopping Broccoli" when I hear it. When I was in the 7th grade though, it was cool (that guitar solo!) Everyone thought the lyrics were so deep and we all wanted to be able to write something similar. Dana Carvey helps me to see that it's not all that complicated and sophisticated. Specifically, it reminds me of talking to AnnaMarie Knox on her front porch.

For Those in Withdrawal

Click on the link in the title for a live webcam of San Clemente. This is my favorite picture of Laney from San Clemente this year. She likes to run around while I am taking pictures. It makes it a little hard to get a good picture. But, they turn out fun when you get one. Notice the brown/green tinge of the water from the "red tide."

Where are we going? and why am I in this handbasket?

Sometimes I wonder if it just seems that the World is so much worse than it used to be. Perhaps it appears that way because we have access to so much more information today....Nah! I know that throughout history we generally see a decline in morality and the scriptures and prophets tell us to expect that. At the same time we are supposed to struggle against such a decline. With that preface, let me vent.

What is society thinking? last week there were two major Utah news stories that simply ground the faces of already downtrodden conservatives into the muck and seem to be symptomatic of the Nation as a whole:

Jon Huntsman (RINO) Utah Governor announced a compromise on the Legacy Highway issue. Bob Lonsberry described it very aptly, "The state used the grab-your-ankles approach to negotiation, with occasional utilization of the here’s-my-wallet-don’t-hurt-me technique." There was absolutelyey no reason to cave into the brash demands of outsider funded minority special interest environmentalist terrorists.

The now crippled Legacy Highway project has long been needed to ease the traffic on the only main artery north and south through the three northern most valleys of Utah. Years ago construction was halted by environmentalists and Salt Lake Mayor Rocky Anderson with the subsequent cost to taxpayers of hundreds of millions of dollars. A highway project to benefit the State and desired by the majority of the people, was halted by a wacko left-wing mayor (who thinks he is the most important man in the State), his ACLU-enviro-terrorist cronies and their supporters and financial backers who live elsewhere.

Also last week, Rocky Anderson extended City employee benefits to their live-in "partners." This was meant to be a nod to same sex couples. But, to achieve his aim he can't exclude heterosexual couples who haven't bothered to get married. Let's face it Rocky was rubbing our noses in it. Consider the typical same sex couple. Are they more or less likely to have children? Are they more or less likely to have lots of children? Are they more or less likely to be a dual income household? Same rhetorical questions for the shack-ups who can't bring themselves to get married. He gave official standing to same sex partners under the guise of giving them a benefit that most of them probably don't need and likely need a lot less than heterosexual, legally married, stay-at-home-mom type families.

Liberals in Utah love to cry that the LDS Church runs the State. If that were true there are a lot of things like this that would never happen in Utah. In reality the Church has limited control even over its devout members.

It becomes increasingly apparent that what minorities lose at the ballot box and cannot achieve through constitutional means they are able to obtain through lawless courts and judges and the Supreme Fiat of Maverick Ideologue Leaders and appointees.

Our Constitution is really on it's head. I remember during the Reagan era discussing the idea of majority rule with an office associate who was very Liberal. I got the distinct impression that there was a groundswell of the idea that "even though we are a minority, we still get a voice." She used the phrase "protection of the minority." Where in the Constitution is this idea of the minority getting a voice? I think you only get a voice if you can control a majority. Over the years we see a growth in the mechanisms for the "voice of the minority." 1) Lobbyists and special interest groups with $, 2) Judges and leaders who a) don't enforce the law b) proclaim constitutional rights mentioned nowhere in our Divine Contract, and c) pronounce as unconstitutional" laws and bills enacted by Congress or by the voice of the people, 3) frivolous lawsuits that give situs and standing to nonsense ideas and people, 4) hijacking of the State Educational system for wholesale indoctrinization of their ideas, 5) "rights" extended to criminals who, by their actions, have forfeited Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, and 6) the promotion of land, plants, and animals to a status superior to humans (I call this doctrine "Liberal Flapdoodle").

More and more I feel people don't know and don't believe in the America that was. There are whole groups of grown ups, supposedly smart and educated people, whose main premise is that the US is outdated and needs to be changed. Then there are the right thinking people who feel that the US has gone too far afield and needs to be changed back.

Update 29 Sep 05

Now Rocky Anderson has gotten caught paying for Liquor (to entertain out of town guests) with his city expense credit card. This is illegal. He says it's a stupid law and is going to change it.

Update 5 Oct 05

I sent a letter to the Opinion Page of the Deseret News (follows). They haven't published it yet. Which leads me to believe they won't. It's probably deemed too provocative. They usually print my letters when I send them:

Supporters of Rocky Anderson like to tell the rest of us that if we don't like him we can move to Salt Lake and vote him out. This would be just fine if he limited his actions to those that only affect and reflect on Salt Lake City. In truth he is an embarrassment to most of the state. The only avenue the rest of us have against him is to complain. Anyone who is not transfixed with adoration for Rocky can tell that he clearly has an inferiority complex about being Utahn and wishes the LDS Church didn't exist. He doesn't want to be the Mayor of Salt Lake. He wants to be the Mayor of Berkeley, or better yet, the King of the World.

Oakley Rodeo

Last weekend we had a retreat for the Bishops in the Murray South Stake. All I knew was that it was at "the Sorenson's" cabin. I thought that was Steve Sorensen who was just recently released as the Stake Executive Secretary. It was actually Utah Billionaire, James Sorenson. He has a couple of children who live in our Stake. The "cabin" was very nice. It's about 8 miles up the valley to the East of Oakley, Utah. We had a very nice time. I was pleased that President Daw allowed it to be simply social, no fireside, no morning devotional. We just sat around and chatted and laughed, ate and played a silly game with candy bars. Bishop Mark Johnson of the South Cottonwood ward told the dooziest mission story about a sister in his mission who had a baby (immaculate conception!!!!) Lenore and I got one of the nicer rooms, a suite, probably because it had a larger bed and I'm so tall. I couldn't figure out how to make the satellite TV work, though. Sister Daw made some really good salsa. I usually avoid Jalapeno peppers like the plague. But, in this case they added just the right amount of spiciness and pepperiness for me.

Under The Way

I was reminded today of an elderly German sister we knew in Milan. We called her Sorella Unterweger. She lived in some government subsidized housing north (I think) of the Circonvalazione in Milan. I'm sure she is deceased now. In her apartment she had 30 or so small birds that just ran loose. You had to be attentive to their occasional "blessings." She wrote a small poem about the missionaries that I thought I should preserve in some way for her.

Ogni partenza degli Anziani
Piange il cielo di Milano
Se non e' diluvio, e' pioggiarella pian piano
Piange anche l'occhio umano
Al rumore degli aeri che li portano lontano

Every time the Elders leave
The sky over Milan cries
If it's not a flood, it's a slow drizzling rain
The eye of man also cries
At the sound of the planes that take them far away.

Ailsa's Latest Self Portrait

I like this alot.

Westward Ho!

Our Stake sponsors a pioneer trek reenactment every four years. Both Ailsa and Jensen were of the right age to participate in June of 2004. So when the opportunity arose for me to go as well I decided (despite several reasons I could think of not to) to go along as a son in one of the families. I wasn't thrilled about forfeiting three vacation days to put myself through a grueling ordeal with about 150 dorky juveniles (including my two) in the wilds of northeastern Utah. I am not a camper. However, I am well acquainted with the faith and toils of the pioneers and have read " the Second Rescue". I knew it would be a great experience for Ailsa and Jensen and if I had the chance to experience it with them I should. Some notable ancestors of theirs made the trek out west by wagon train and handcart.

From our ward we had a pretty good group of kids who went. There was one boy who early in the year very adamantly refused even to consider going. He rightfully knew it wasn't just a bowl of cherries. About a month before the event it was abruptly announced that he would be going. In a Sacrament meeting afterward where we had the kids speak he said it was the best decision his mom had ever made for him.

The first morning after gathering at the Stake Center and meeting the other people in our families ( Mark Mangoni (pa), Mercedi Towers (ma, from our ward), Sean Carter, Travis Howland, Preston Wittwer, Nick DeMann, Lindsay Irion, AJ Robinson, Jamie Bergstrom, Ashlee Christiansen) we were fed a vast farmer breakfast and told to eat a lot which we did willingly. I noticed that one of our boys, Travis, ate quite a lot. All of our girls were fairly small and Travis was really the only other boy who looked like he had some heft and strength to him.

We reached our starting point only about 15 miles east of Morgan, Utah by bus and after applying sunscreen and donning sunglasses and all we set off. The handcarts we used are very sturdy and larger than the typical ones used in the 1850's. Stan Baker in our ward served a mission where he built these handcarts and he told us they were designed to carry about 800 pounds of gear (whereas a typical period handcart would carry half of that at the most). Granted the pioneers carried less stuff but they also probably traveled in groups smaller than 9 or 10 like we were. Very early on, I'm not sure when, I wasn't paying attention, one of the boys, whose name will be withheld at the behest of my legal counsel (my wife),"twisted" his ankle aggravating an "old injury." I put it in quotes because there was some ambiguity about the injury and it became evident fairly quickly that many of his peers were cynical about his plight. I got the feeling he had a reputation for this sort of thing.

I consider myself a fairly large and strong person. In situations of physical exertion as a part of a team I tend to try to do more than my part. I did okay for the first four hours or so. But, I found after that my strength was sapped. I probably should have paced myself better. Years ago during a sponsored 60 mile bike ride I was doing with Eric and a friend of his, we fell in with another rider we didn't know for about 20 miles or so who helped us with our pacing. He was from Holland and had his name, Jan Vreeling, painted on his bike frame so we figured he might be somebody. At one point I was at the lead of the pace line and we were trying to maintain a 21-22 mph pace. I turned to him and told him I wasn't sure I could keep it up. He replied in a very Schwartzenegeresque accent, "just keep pedaling". I have relied on that suggestion many times since and it came in handy during trek. As a family now when we see a group of geese or ducks flying in formation and hear them honking at each other, we joke that they are saying "just keep pedaling".

At one point about in the middle of the first day's trek we stopped for a longer than usual break. We were given some granola bars and apples and some lemonade. We sat on the hillside (I inadvertently sat in some sheep dip) and listened to a talk or two. We were preparing for an unusually grueling climb. It was steep and long and I think they also wanted to psyche us out a little. Anyway, we gutted out the climb and got to the top where they had us stop again for a long time. Shortly, after we stopped Preston Wittwer became ill. At first we all thought it might have to do with some slight asthma problems. But, after thinking about it I think it was just from the exertion. I think it's not uncommon to feel ill after a long difficult exertion. It seems as soon as you let up, your body reacts to all the adrenalin or something. Being sick is not the sort of thing you want to do in front of anyone, especially teen-age peers. I felt sorry for him. All I could do was put my arm across his shoulders and comfort him until it passed.

I'm pretty sure that these pioneer treks were conceived and designed by the same people who conduct those wilderness adventure experiences for wayward youth. It seems there is a lot of psychological manipulation and control that takes place on these outings. This may have been partially lost on the youth. But, I was aware what was going on and I didn't always like it. Our Ma and Pa were told not assist us with the cart which seemed really dumb to me. I'm sure there is some new-age psychological bonding reasoning behind that custom. But, I doubt I agree with it. We stopped for rests every once in a while, which is good. But, these stops were designed to waste and consume time so that there is no chance you will arrive at camp at a decent hour. After the sun went down I was quite perturbed because I couldn't see well at all. For the "women's pull" portion of the Trek the men were sent off on our Mormon Battalion duties. We were asked to refrain from speaking and spend our time in contemplation. We marched ahead for about a half a mile or so. After a stop and another talk we were waiting for the women and as they approached and passed us we were supposed to fall in with our family of sisters and walk along side of them without lending help in pushing the cart. One moving moment for me was as the women approached up the last hill. In this self imposed contemplative silence the only thing you could hear was their panting and hard breathing as they struggled in the yoke.

As I said we were supposed to fall in with our sisters. The only problem for me was in the darkness even though they passed within 3 feet of me I couldn't tell one girl from another and all of the handcarts passed me by without my finding my family. After several frustrating minutes I finally found my family as we were readying to leave for the last 2 hour push. Every once in a while the kids wanted to sing pioneer songs or primary songs. I would try to sing with them. But, was always too short of breath. It soon became apparent to me that if you could sing you weren't working hard enough. Despite all of the work and hassle I often felt a marked poignancy about what we were doing. It's an odd way to honor your forbears and pioneers. But, probably a fitting way. I expect that beyond the veil there are those who appreciate it and lend their presence from time to time to make that known to us.

When we finally reached our first night's camp at midnight we were given a quick meal of broth and a hard roll. It was meager. But it was very good. The ankle twister boy had been riding in a car. But, managed to join us for our meal and eat his share. Literally every possible moment after we reached the base camp on the second day we found him asleep. I thought he was on pain meds. But, later found out no. Maybe he was depressed. Anyhow, the first three "naps" we found him sleeping with a plastic knife in his hand. We started teasing him about it and he explained that it was in his pocket and he didn't want to sleep on it. We surmised he was either equipping himself for spur of the moment self defense against marauding bears or it was a subliminal manifestation of an eating fetish. That first night despite arriving so late and being dead tired, I had a lot of trouble falling asleep. I can think of three things that may have contributed to this. I was over exhausted. We were at a slightly elevated altitude (I think around 7500 feet). And I had the tarp over my head to keep warm which may have limited my access to oxygen. As it turned out I probably only got about 5 hours of sleep. The first day we hiked 10 miles with a rise in elevation of about 2500 feet.

Part of the Trek Experience is how the dynamics of the family work themselves out. The jostling for position and the roles that fit best. At first the "parents" adopt a hands off approach so that personalities can parry and thrust their way into proper position. Since the whole thing was for the youth, I nearly always felt I was in a somewhat awkward position, supposedly being a child in the family, but actually being a big mature adult. I could easily step in and assert myself and rob some of the kids of the opportunity to "find" themselves on Trek. I think I managed to be as unobtrusive as possible.

The first morning we struggled somewhat making our corn meal mush in a dutch oven. Our coals weren't very hot. We later learned that you are supposed to have the coals on a slight platform rather than in an small hole. We ended up mixing all the mush in the water while it was still warming up rather than waiting for it to boil. I thought that was going to ruin it. It ended up just fine. We later found out that is the way our dutch oven expert says you should do it.

The hiking that second day was only 5 miles. But, there were a couple of hills where they had us take off through the brush. Especially one brutal hill where several unusually vigorous young men and leaders came back to help us. So when we reached the top I went back with some others to help another family. Many hands may not make light work. But they can make it lighter. Also our rest stops this second day were not of the wasting time variety. For that reason I may have tired more quickly than the day before. Of course they still weren't telling us anything about how far we were going or where it was or how long and by the time we were within the final quarter mile I was so hoping the base camp was right around the last bend. I wasn't sure I could go on. The last couple of hundred yards my left hip was hurting and one of my feet was giving me pain every step I took.

The afternoon of Thursday they had some fun activities for us to do. The most memorable was the black powder rifle demonstration. Because of the rules in place for the Deseret Land and Livestock Ranch. They could only allow 2 people in each demonstration group to shoot the guns. Jensen got to do this. I not sure if she was just lucky or her family volunteered her because they knew her personality. The official trek photographer wanted to video Roxanne Hoskins shooting the gun so he had me use his still camera while he took video of her. I got a really good shot of her right at the moment she pulled the trigger complete with a nice plume of smoke coming out of the barrel. This photographer took all sorts of pictures and put together a DVD with a half hour video of trek and also a lot of still pictures. We understand it has been shown to other groups who are preparing to go. Ailsa is featured quite prominently in it. But Jensen and I are hardly anywhere to be found. They ended up using the picture I took at the black powder demonstration for the cover of the DVD.

I set up my tarp and sleeping bag sharing space with Mr.Sore Ankle. We weren't right next to each other. But within a couple of feet. My sleeping bag came with a sort of dorky cheap plastic zippered bag that it goes in. Each night I placed in it things that I wanted handy but didn't want to get wet. I went to sleep that night with it right near my head and had my coat and hat on top of it. At the last minute I tried to ask Mark to put them under the kitchen fly. But he couldn't hear me and I didn't want to climb out of my blanket and sleeping bag.

A crack of thunder and rain on my tarp awakened me about 1:30 am. Thinking myself to be safe from the rain I turned my thoughts to my stuff outside the tarp. I poked my head out and couldn't see my stuff. So I figured someone must have seen it and put it in a safe place. I silently thanked them. So I tried to go back to sleep praying that the rain would stop or I at least would stay dry and be able to sleep. I kept praying and later it was obvious that everyone else in the camp would have been praying the same thing at the same time, including the Stake President who really shoulders all of the responsibility for the safety and comfort of all the Trekkers. He later told us that while praying for the rain to stop he felt a rebuke and realized that it was wrong for us to pray for rain to relieve our drought and then try to stop it as soon as it arrives.

Before long I could tell I was getting very wet. I poked my head out again and after looking around better than the time before I found I was all skiwampus on my tarp and my stuff was still right where I had left it. Other than the mere fact that I was just lying on a tarp on the ground and had another one covering me, I couldn't tell why I was getting wet. I was covered. But, I guess water was coming down the meadow or landing on my ground tarp and then running to where I was. I rearranged myself a little and covered up again and resumed my praying. My adjustments didn't do any good and I continued to get wetter. After about an hour of this I started to hear voices in camp and it became apparent that most campers were giving up on prayer, sleep and the current arrangements and were climbing out of bed to take matters in their own hands. I was all wet on one side. The side I was lying on.

The stake leaders had set up three different large flys about the size and shape of a Quonset hut. We headed across the meadow to one of these. It was already well populated with refugees. We managed to squeeze in. I sat on the ground for about an hour trying, and nearly succeeding, to fall asleep. But like clockwork about every minute I would go through a violent shivering fit. At one point Alma Hansen (the trail boss) along with President Burton and a couple of other leaders came by to check on us. Of course along with everyone else I wanted them to tell us we were going home early. Shortly after that someone brought over a small bucket fire starter and a couple of 2x4's that provided a small but welcome fire. We set it just under the edge of the fly so it wouldn't be completely exposed to the rain and we also wouldn't be filling our shelter with smoke. This fire was only big enough for about 4 people to sit closely around without standing in the rain. I was on the edge also partially exposed to the rain. But, it was a comfort to warm myself huddled closely to this meager fire. Shortly after 5am the sky started to lighten and so did our spirits in anticipation of the warmth of day. Not too long thereafter the rain lessened and then stopped altogether.

I made my way back to our camp and we soon got a big fire started and began trying to dry out our wet bedding. While we were warming ourselves at our new fire and beginning the preparations for breakfast we could hear Mr. Broken Foot stirring under the tarp behind us. Remember he was only 2 or 3 feet from where I had been sleeping. He finally pulled back the cover tarp and unzipped his sleeping bag. Body heat just poured out of his bag as he looked up at us with an expression like, "what's all the fuss about?" I guess the Lord figured that he didn't need the same Trek hardships as the rest of us. There were a handful of people throughout camp who had a relatively peaceful, dry, and restful night, including Jensen who was right on the border of their covering fly and looked to be in the most precarious spot but stayed nice and dry and warm. The rest of us (about 95%) had been miserable. The sun took awhile to burn off all of the clouds. But, when it did things warmed up and dried out pretty well and pretty fast. I remember wondering if I would ever see the sun again or if I would ever dry out and feel its comfort and warmth again.

We took our wet things and sleeping bags and spread them out over the sage brush to dry in the sun. This worked well for everything except the plastic ground cloths I had because they didn't breathe and just caught the condensation from below. Also, the bushes harbor a lot of bugs and ants and a good number of them ended up on whatever you spread out over the sage.

We would not be on Trek for a Sunday. But they wanted us to experience worship services on Trek so Friday was our Sabbath. I went to the priesthood meeting. But after the fatigue of the first day and the lack of sleep during the second night I found it nearly impossible to stay awake. I realized I would either have to be on my feet actively doing something or I should just try to get some sleep. A quote comes to mind from the Shawshank Redemption. "Get busy living or get busy dying." So I skipped out on Sunday School and went into camp to gather firewood and do some other chores.

Our Ma and Pa were really cute and fun (other than not helping push the handcart). After some time we noticed that Mark Mangoni said "unbelievable" very often. He must have picked up the habit on his mission or something. It got to the point that the girls started counting how many time he said it and we would all laugh.

The ordeal of the rainy night weighed somewhat on the conscience of the Stake leaders. They had allowed the Pa's and Ma's to bring along tents to be used in emergencies. After the first two nights under the stars they let us know about the tents and each family prepared more adequately for the last night by setting up these tents and making further preparations for the possibility of rain on the last night. Later in the afternoon when they held a special meeting and each of the kids was encouraged to use some "solo" time to write in their journal or pray, I retired to our tent and took a nap. Even though I was dead tired I still had trouble falling asleep. But, I eventually did and napped for about two hours. Each of the kids home parents was asked to write them a letter that they would read during this solo time. The letter I wrote for Ailsa follows this account.

When we first met at the Stake Center the morning of the first day each of us was given the name and partial details of a handcart pioneer who we represented. During the solo time on Friday were given further details about our person, basically how they fared on their own trek to the West. We were told whether we survived or not and given an armband to wear, white for those who lived and black for those who died. I died. Ailsa and Jensen both lived.

Later that evening during our fireside President Burton asked a member of each family to stand and tell something they had learned on Trek. Each kid said something pertinent and interesting. He chose Jensen from her family. She simply said she didn't know what she had learned. I later chatted with Pres. Burton about it and he said it was perfect because Jensen represented that portion of the group that didn't know. I certainly wasn't sure why I was there. Near the end of his remarks, Pres Burton referred to our armbands and first had the survivors stand and spoke about them. He then had the dead of us stand and made some remarks. It was interesting to note how many of the men had not made it. I think most of the men in "my" family had died. I imagine it might have to do with the same reason for my overexertion on the first day. Maybe many fathers and/or eldest sons spent themselves on the plains trying to take care of those who couldn't take care of all their own needs.

There was a group of three boys who had brought bagpipes and would play from time to time so that we occasionally heard the very poignant scurl of bagpipes playing hymns while we fixed dinner or something else (I requested "Praise to the Man". But they hadn't practiced it.) At this point in the fireside they played amazing grace on the bagpipes while the "dead" people stood. This was such a touching moment I couldn't hold back the huge feelings of sorrow and gratitude I had for pioneers and forbears particularly for those who sacrificed so much in coming West and establishing the Church.

We had endured the thunder showers during the night while we prayed for intervention. Some of us may have even cursed God because of the elements. One great lesson that becomes very plain and obvious as soon as you spend any time at all in the outdoors is how exposed you are under the canopy of heaven. This is a two edged sword. You are subject at all times to the whims of nature. You have to be ever vigilant against too much exposure to the sun or not drinking enough water. Friday morning I left my gloves off for a couple of hours and got quite a good sunburn. But, on the plains you are also blessed immensely to be able to witness first hand and up close all of nature's beauties. This is "Big Sky" country and it is easy to find and appreciate many scenes such as those depicted in paintings by Albert Bierstadt or Gilbert Munger that show the American West on such a grand scale. The air is fresh and constantly seasoned with whiffs of wild sage or mint or basil. We did get some rain sprinkles during the day on Friday. But, for the most part the storms skirted us. After the fireside while preparing for dinner we received the most fitting reward and apology from heaven for the night's ordeal in the form of a beautiful double rainbow. At the mouth of the gently sloping valley that we were camped in, a couple of miles distant there was a display of two complete arcs of beautiful color. I have often seen parts of double rainbows. I don't think I have ever seen both ends of any rainbow. This view gave us hope of 4 pots of gold. It's message seemed to me: perhaps I can't protect you from all of your trials. But, I can make it worth your while.

In the Televised June 2004 Priesthood Leadership Conference President Hinckley gave us a little tour of his office and showed some of the prints on the walls and other artwork. One piece was a small sculpture showing his grandfather burying his wife and half-brother somewhere on the plains in 1850. His grandfather then continued on to the valley with his infant child. President Hinckley said, "I know that no matter how hard I work, it will never be as hard as he worked, nor will I pay so great a price in the service I give." This very appropriately sums up my feelings after experiencing "Trek".

Letter to kids (Jensen's is very similar):
Dearest Ailsa:

You are a sweet daughter of ours and of Heavenly Father. You come from a long line of a noble heritage. This pioneer trek reenactment is to allow you an experience that somewhat approximates what some of your ancestors went through and to teach you of the great blessings your Heavenly father gave them and has given to you. You will be exposed to the elements and to poverty and the mercy and goodness of the Lord. Remember always to recognize and acknowledge his hand in every area of your life. The precariousness of our very life thread is watched over and guarded by the Lord at all times. This reality will be even more evident in the wilderness. All we receive comes from his goodness and providence.

You have ancestors who came to the valley with the first company, some who came directly across from England, Wales, and Norway by boat. There were others who came by wagon or train, many of those who were not related to the Prophet were well acquainted with him and some were close associates and friends. Whatever the circumstance, all of these sought to gather to Zion. Our greatest hope for our loved ones is that one day we will be able to gather to Zion as a family on the other side of the veil.

In the extremity of this trek remember your great grandparents who crossed the plains by handcart. Remember the strength and faith of your great grandmother who sometimes carried her little child in her apron with the corners of the apron in her mouth so she too could push the handcart. Remember the sacrifice of your great grandfather and great uncle who were martyred in Carthage jail to seal their testimonies with blood and who marked the path of the Gospel for the Saints of the Latter Days. You may feel these spirits and others near while performing this undertaking. Your attempts to honor them and understand their sacrifices will not go without recognition. While as a family we may sometimes grumble in jest at all the Lord requires of us, remember that your mother and I love the Gospel and the Prophets and our grumblings are only a manifestation of our human frailties, not of any weakness of God's plan for us.

You have been richly blessed and endowed with great talents and abilities. You are our firstborn and much is expected of you. Please respond to the challenge of being the best example possible to your peers and siblings. Jensen especially could use your kindness and good example. Please let your peers on this trek see your great spirit and personality and bring them into your circle of friends. My only regret in your attending Kimber academy has been your separation from the good kids of this stake. My youth experience was much different than yours. I was part of a huge group of good kids who strengthened each other in the Gospel. I draw upon that strength often. I only wish for you a similar experience with the youth of this stake.

When the road gets difficult, reach out to the Lord and he will bend the path upward to meet you, steer the wind to your back, and will lighten your load as he did with the people of Alma. Seek his aid and he will provide sufficient for your needs. We love you.

your loving parents.