Lessons from my Children: Mark, Being a father

Mark and me, Porcupine  Dam

Mark

Mark’s getting here was not as remarkable as Natalia’s. However in Sheri’s pregnancy with him we learned patience. There was a period in his pregnancy when the doctors felt Mark was not growing as fast as he should. They decided to conduct an amniocentesis to decide if it would be OK to induce labor, as they felt there might be something wrong with the pregnancy.

I was excited to get Mark here as quickly as possible. However the result of the tests did not support forcing him to arrive early. The opinion was that Mark was just fine, but somehow we had gotten the due date wrong, and that was the reason he wasn’t as large as they thought he should have been at the time. We had to wait a while longer.
(Sheri, who probably is right, remembers this story differently. She indicates the reason for the amniocentesis was a result of the doctors having gotten the autopsy from Billy Boy. This worried them so they wanted to determine if they could have him born early and if anything might be wrong with him. The amniocentesis indicated nothing was wrong, however his lungs were not yet developed to the point that an early delivery would be advisable.)

Sheri’s labor was not induced with Mark. Sheri had a bad cold when he was born. I always felt, that after the first two pregnancies, Mark’s lacked excitement. We went to the hospital, and then he was there with no big deal.

I loved him just as much. I put up the big sign this time, “It’s a Boy.” He was born 15 months after Natalia, and would be just one grade younger than Natalia in school.
The first lesson I learned from Mark, was the same as Natalia. Stuff happens. Mark taught me this by getting his stinky diaper in my face every morning. Mark, like many youngsters when he was a toddler, would find his way into our bed. Somehow he would get upside down in the bed. I don’t know how many mornings I woke up smelling his peed diaper.  One morning he was sleeping on top of me when I woke, with his diaper covering my face.

Natalia and Mark also taught me to roll with the punches. When they were both small, but after Jeremy had been born, Sheri and I were asked to talk in church. We were going to sing a family song between our talks. We worked with Natalia and Mark to learn the song, “As I Have Loved You.” We also learned the sign language that is in the Primary Song book. Natalia and Mark looked so cute when they rehearsed. At this time Natalia was probably close to kindergarten age and Mark three or four. They had worked hard and learned the song. Unfortunately when it was time to sing the song they were both fast asleep on the floor around our feet. Sheri and I sang the song, and did the sign language alone.

The life lesson I have learned from Mark, is the importance of being a father. This lesson came to me gradually. I always liked being a father, although I was not a perfect father.

When Mark was young, the movie Hook came out in theaters. In this movie, Robin Williams, portraying Peter Pan has to find his happy thought. His happy thought in the end was being a father. I think this too is my happy thought.

Mark has had three loves in his life growing up. One was soccer, and the others drama and music. When Mark was young I would coach him in soccer. However by the time he was 12, Mark new as much about soccer, and could play much better, than I ever could. I let others coach him then. However it was through drama, that Mark made me think more about being a father.

When Mark was a Freshman, the High School put on "The Music Man," and Mark was cast in the role of Winthrop, the piano teacher’s younger brother. This may have been because of Mark’s size. He always took after Sheri and was somewhat short. However Mark also is a very good actor. Three actors from the performance were presented best acting awards, and had their pictures displayed at the San Jose Center for the Performing Arts. Mark and the two leads were selected.

In the show the lead character, Harold Hill, befriends Winthrop. He thrills him with the idea of his playing the trumpet. However Hill is actually a conman who doesn’t know how to teach music. He is just interested in selling instruments and band uniforms. Towards the end of the play Winthrop confronts Mr. Hill. “Are you a big thief? Are you a low down good for nothing crook?” As Mark delivered these lines he did it with such conviction. His lower lip quivered. He had tears in his eyes. His voice broke with grief and pain. In that quivering lower lip, in those tears, I could see all my failures--every cross word, every swat, every mistake and every let down. I could see it all in that face and in those tears.

I know he wasn’t talking to me, but to act that well, the pain must have come from somewhere. I wasn’t a terrible or abusive father. But even so I could have done better, and in that moment made a commitment, as I myself was in tears, to do better and to be more faithful.

President McKay’s words come to mind, “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” I needed to keep my priorities in line and this was a good reminder.
A couple years later, Mark was again in the high school musical, “Working.” Mark, with two other young men sang a tribute to their fathers, “Fathers and Sons,” written by Stephen Schwartz:

I heard a lotta songs say “Where you goin’ my son?”
Now I know they’re true.
Boy, you never stop to think how fast the years run; now they’re taking you.
I remember you was three and a half,
your mom and me we’d sit there after things got quieted.
We’d laugh at some new word you said, how tough you were to get to bed
and we’d plan the night away.
Planning for our kid.
I was your hero then, I couldn’t do no wrong as far as you were concerned.
You thought I was the best of men, the tables hadn’t turned, you hadn’t learned
How little time it takes.
And daddies make mistakes.

It seems to me that lately I’ve been thinkin’ a lot;
I think about my dad.
Lots of funny things come back I thought I’d forgot, Now they make me sad.
High school and it used to be, I didn’t want him touching me
and I shuddered if he did.
Further back to summer nights:
Baseball games beneath the lights and sleeping in the car.
daddy and his kid.
He was my hero then, He couldn’t do no wrong as far as I were concerned,
I thought he was the wisest and the strongest and the best of men,
the tables hadn’t turned, I hadn’t learned, how little time it takes.
And ev’rybody breaks.
And daddies make mistakes.

I heard a lotta songs say “Where you goin’ my son?”
Now I know they’re for real.
Boy you never stop to think how fast the years run; or the things they steal.
Now it seems I always knew why I do the things I do, and the thing I never did.
Why I work my whole damn life so’s I could give a better life
than the one my dad could give me.
I give it to my kid.

You can imagine how touched I was with this song. It sort of explained how I felt, and maybe somewhat how Mark felt. The relation between fathers and sons was put into an untitled poem Mark wrote:

When I was young and you were not so old
You whispered Spanish in my ear when we
Stopped by a road's edge. My hand found its hold
In your most calming hand that seemed to me
Secure as any fortress in the world.
Our ears perked, eyes turned right then left to see
that all was safe beyond where pavement curled
Around a thick, shadowing maple tree.
When all was safe, no danger to be found,
We anxiously stepped and soon would be
Beyond the road to fields and playing ground,
The promised place where I had longed to run free.

You are the man in whom I see my God.
Few boys were better taught or so well shod.

I guess that says it all. 

Lessons From My Children: Natalia; Persistence Wins

Natalia

Natalia was born October 17, 1985. The story of her birth is a miracle, and we owe a world to Dr. Rosenfield. After Sheri had become pregnant again, we moved back to Utah, close to where Sheri’s family lived. Sheri had intense monitoring during the pregnancy in light of the result of her first two pregnancies. Sheri’s labor was started, as they didn’t want her to go over her due date because of her past experiences. During her labor, they noticed that the baby’s heartbeat would slow down whenever Sheri would lay on her side. Sheri had to remain on her back, but they were still worried about what this might mean.

They thought that perhaps the baby had ingested some fecal waste, and because of their concern, they asked the local pediatrician, Dr. Rosenfield, to attend to the baby’s birth. During the childbirth, the baby’s heart rate dropped greatly. The umbilical cord had wrapped around the baby’s shoulder and this caused the problem. They decided to push the issue and deliver the baby as quickly as possible. They used forceps to pull Natalia out of the womb, leaving red marks on her forehead.

When Natalia was born, she did not breath. Dr. Rosenfield and the pediatric nurses (Aunt Judy, Sheri’s aunt was one of them) grabbed Natalia and took her to a table. There they did what they could to get her to breath. Sheri and I sat staring at them as they worked with Natalia, slapping her on her feet, and trying to get her to go. They put a tube down her throat and started pumping air into her. A minute passed and she still did not breath.

Sheri and I were stunned at the activity. It was almost like we were forgotten during all of this. It was almost 90 seconds before Natalia first cried. You can imagine the relief we felt at that cry. After that first cry they continued to shake her and jostle her to keep her going.

They cleaned her up, and brought her to us to meet her. I noticed her eyes. They went back and forth, back and forth studying everything. They reminded me of the cyborg eyes from Battle Star Galatica. They were beautiful as they went back and forth, back and forth.

Natalia’s name comes from Argentina. I had met a young woman, Natalia Bonavena, and liked the name, so I determined my first daughter would be called Natalia. The name fits her, as it means rejoicing in birth, and that we certainly did. I put a big sign up at our house, “It’s a Girl,” to welcome Natalia and Sheri home.

Natalia taught me to be a parent, and to realize it is not all glamour and games. She taught us that sometimes the diaper leaks and poop goes everywhere. (That was a Sunday at church and fortunately we lived close enough to church that Sheri could take her home and change her dress.) It happens, and you laugh and roll with it.
But the life lesson that Natalia taught me is that often the turtle wins. Natalia’s favorite animal is a turtle, but I am referring to the story of "The Tortoise and the Hare." Natalia was born with average intelligence. Her brothers on the other hand, have always tested smarter. But Natalia gets better grades than all of them. Discipline plays an important factor in life, which breeds faith, which in turn creates success.  A friend once told me that.

Natalia had a terrific fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Jackson, who influenced her greatly. The most important thing Natalia learned that year was how to study and organize. She learned a basic principle; it is more important how you study than your general intelligence.

More important than talent, is doing. The person who does, the person who performs, feels good about their effort, and consequently they have more faith. I like what James said about faith in his general epistle in the Bible:

14. What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? Can faith save him?
15. If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food.
16. And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit?
17. Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.
18 Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works; shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works.
19. Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe and tremble.
20. But wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead?
21. Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he had offered Isaac his son upon the altar?
22. Seest thou how faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect?
23. And the scripture was fulfilled which saith, Abraham believed God, and it was imputed unto him for righteousness: and he was called the Friend of God.
24. Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only. (James 2: 14-24)

There is a relationship between actions, faith and accomplishment. Those who put in effort, who are disciplined, have an increase in faith. And those with an increase in faith have an increase in performance and success. This can be measured in grades at school, prayers said, scriptures read, or in financial success.
It was James who also wrote the scripture that inspired Joseph Smith to pray in the grove, and initiate our dispensation:

5. If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him.
6. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that waivereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.
7. Let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord. (James 1: 5-7)

This scripture moved Joseph to act. Faith creates action. President Kimball said, “…Remember that there were no heavenly beings in Palmyra, on the Susquehanna or on Cumorah when the soul-hungry Joseph slipped quietly to the Grove, knelt in prayer on the river bank, and climbed the slopes of the sacred hill.” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Spencer Kimball p. 142)

Schoolwork is not the only area where Natalia demonstrates discipline and faith. She is faithful in reading her scriptures and saying her prayers. Her faith has been rewarded with a testimony of Jesus Christ and of the restoration of the gospel. Spencer Kimball also said, “In faith we plant the seed, and soon we see the miracle of the blossoming.” (ibid. p 142) Natalia has received the miracle of testimony in her life, because she was willing to plant and nurture and tend the seed.

Lessons from my children: Billy Boy: A Time to Grieve

Dads are supposed to teach their kids, but in my case the experience has been reversed. Of course I have shown my children how to hold a baseball bat, or how to throw a Frisbee, but the important lessons, I have been the student. 

My wife, Sheri, and I are the parents of eight children, five boys and three girls. Our first baby boy was stillborn. In our elderly years we have been the foster parents to about 30 children. One of our foster children we have adopted; three-year old Tony.

And so what are these life lessons my children have taught me. To explore that, I need to go slowly, and talk about each child

Billy Boy

Billy Boy is the name we gave to our stillborn baby. He was our firstborn, but actually our second pregnancy as a miscarriage had preceded him. We were always going to name our first born, after my wife’s brother, Mark, who died when he was young. However we didn’t want to waste that name, and so in our haste to change the baby’s name it came out Billy Boy. The hospital had already given him the name, Baby Boy Wardle, so we just changed it slightly. Sheri and I wanted to be parents so much it hurt. We had moved from Utah to faraway Nevada to start our family. We lived in rural Duckwater. (Duckwater really was rural. It was 70 miles to the nearest grocery store over good roads. If you wanted to go over dirt roads there was a grocery store only 50 miles away. We generally shopped in Ely, 70 miles, and that is also where medical care was found.

>We were very excited for a baby to come to our family. When Sheri was eight months along in her pregnancy, I picked her up after her regular medical appointment. She was all upset and had been crying. She reported that we needed to go to Salt Lake City because they feared the baby had died. They could not find the baby’s heart beat when they attached a monitor to see how the baby was doing. They did not have ultrasound equipment in Ely, Nevada at that time, so we were referred to the University of Utah Hospital for an appointment and evaluation the next day.

I remember, before we went home to Duckwater, I took several pictures of Sheri. I wanted to get a roll of film developed and there were pictures left on the end of the film. I guess I was in denial that anything could really be wrong. We then drove to Duckwater in silence. Sheri had already accepted that the baby had died. She had noticed that the baby had stopped moving inside her, and the report from the doctor in Ely only confirmed this. I had no such belief, and was not ready to accept any such outcome

The next day, after packing, we traveled to Salt Lake and the hospital, Leaving Duckwater by five in the morning. I remember the trip was somber. I made several attempts at levity, which seemed to falter and fall flat, like something in your stomach that doesn’t want to digest. We arrived in Salt Lake late morning, and went directly to the hospital. Initially they tried to find a heart beat by monitor, and when that was not successful we were referred for an ultrasound. After a couple hour wait we were with the ultrasonographer and he was using KY Jelly to help with the review of the baby’s systems. It was at this time that Sheri’s belief was confirmed, and my denial was proven to be false. They could not find any activity on the part of the baby. They looked at the baby’s heart, and it was not beating.

We were advised get a hotel room and then return the next morning when they would start Sheri’s labor and deliver the baby. We had dinner, and Sheri started to have contractions, but not very regular. We went from there to get a hotel room, and Sheri couldn’t sleep because of the pain. We called the Dr. and I returned to pick up some sleep medication for her. Turns out the hotel was mostly a waste of money. (I seem to think about money a lot.) Sheri had a bath, but then couldn’t get to sleep. She had gone into labor of her own self while we were having dinner. Initially the pains were not very alarming. By the time she got out of the tub her labor was very active. We returned to the hospital about 10:30 that night, after not getting any rest.

After returning to the hospital, the baby came quickly. I was to coach and help Sheri. Sheri at one time became frustrated with me, and socked me. Sheri did not get an epidural. They didn’t have time to get the anesthesiologist and she just had local pain medication in her IV. When the baby came they did a major episiotomy, and Sheri also tore considerably. The baby was born just after midnight on Sunday morning, December 9, 1984, within two hours of the time we returned to the hospital.

They figured the baby had been dead for about a week. The only thing we heard from the autopsy report was that his heart was enlarged. This meant he had been under stress for some time. We never were given an explanation as to why the baby was under stress.

Even so, when the baby was born, I wanted, beyond hope for some miracle to take place. I waited for the Dr. to pound him on the chest and bring him back to life. He never pounded. The baby was dead.

They moved Sheri to a regular inpatient unit rather than to a maternity ward. I think I would have preferred the maternity ward, but Sheri asked the hospital staff to put her someplace where she wouldn’t be around people with live babies, as that would have been hard to deal with.

I went to the room with Sheri. My first after-birth task was to massage Sheri’s belly, which was suppose to help her uterus contract and return to its normal size. As the morning dawned, I was given another task, to call family and let them know we were in Utah (my family lived in Northern Utah and Sheri’s in Eastern Utah,) and also to inform them of our loss. I didn’t much like this a chore. However it was within just a few hours that people started showing up to wish us well. For my side of the family, a loss of any kind, other than grandparents, was something new.

As for Billy Boy, the hospital staff tried to remove his birth covering and clean him up, however in doing so his skin peeled. Consequently they stopped and he was left with what looked like a red rash where they had cleaned him up. We have one picture of him, and you can see his red rash.

I held him. He was very tiny. He weighed just less then five pounds. Sheri did not hold him, and she has expressed regret at this since.

My older brother’s father-in-law, Bishop Garbett came to the hospital.He was a former bishop and we consulted with him about the proper way to proceed with a stillborn in terms of church blessings. We decided there was no reason we shouldn’t give him a name and a blessing, so we did. My brothers assisted me. They brought the body to the room and I gave him a name. I don’t remember much of the blessing, but it was very short.

We did not take the body home for burial. The hospital staff said they would conduct an autopsy, and then dispose of the body for us.

That is the story of Billy Boy. From this experience, I learned there is a time to grieve. The grieving process was not just a one-day thing, but took place over several weeks, even months. How do you grieve for a baby you never cuddled and held? It wasn’t hard. The baby was real to us, and we had made plans to make him part of our lives. Sheri’s grieving was intense, because she had felt every kick and movement while the baby was inside her body. I had felt kicks, but only when Sheri shared them with me.

We went to spend a week with Sheri’s family for bereavement. It was a comfortable week for me. Not so much so for Sheri. They had given her what would be an inflatable tube for her to sit on to aid in her heeling process. We spent most of our time in the living room while Sheri tried her best to get comfortable.

We returned to Duckwater after at week of grieving leave. I worked for the Duckwater Shoshone Tribe, and while we were gone an elderly tribal member had passed away. I am not sure why, but where this gentleman had been a member of the Church, it fell upon me to talk at his funeral. Preparing that talk, and remembering the eternal nature of life and family, helped me along my grieving process. The funeral was attended by the entire reservation of almost 200 people. I had received delivery of two large turkeys from BYU Community Outreach, which I brought back with me for a tribal dinner for the Holidays. We used these for a tribal feast to honor our newly departed elder. I felt I was handling everything OK.

Sheri did not grieve for some time. In fact she really didn’t grieve until a couple years later. My niece had a stillborn baby boy, Skyler, for whom they had a funeral. Sheri finally was able to grieve at that funeral, and let out her feelings about Billy Boy. In the mean time we had a new baby girl.

It’s funny about grieving. It is not a one-time process and then you’re done with it. Grief is less intense over time, but it is something that comes back. I wrote in my journal about having a bitter day a month after losing Billy Boy. Bitterness is evil and to be avoided. It can blacken your soul. I avoided bitterness by leaving things to the Lord and accepting that all will work together for our good. (See D&C 122:7) There is peace in that thought, and peace replaces bitterness.

A couple years later I wrote in my journal:"When Billy Boy died I remember asking myself inside for a long time, 'Why? Why? Why?' The question went away, but I’m not sure if I ever really answered it for myself. I do know when Tali was born and I saw how beautiful she is, the hurt seemed to fade—although for a time it was more piercing as I realized what we had missed. God, I know, has blessed me greatly, but it was after the tribulations and trials that allowed him to pour our more abundant blessings and make Tali so beautiful."

My trials have not been near so hard as others--As Job who lost everything, but was then able to see God. Or as the pioneers who lost so many children. (In uncovering an old burial site archeologist discovered four times as many infants as adults. In my own family there are stories of numerous children dying on the trek.) But these families overcame and built a city and temple with God’s help.

I know I can expect more trials, likely of a different nature. I have further to go to be in control of myself, and my own destiny. It is through trials I can prove to myself that I have made gains towards becoming more like Heavenly Father and Jesus—more perfect.

Sheri, for her part, fought depression. I realize now I wasn’t there enough for her. I wasn’t open to her talking about her loss and her issues. I just wanted to go on. A coworker suggested that perhaps we needed counseling to help deal with the loss. This seemed foreign to me.

23 years later, I still have days when I miss Billy Boy, or where he is acutely in my thoughts. At every funeral I attend he seems to be there. A few years ago we traveled to Arizona, to bury the nephew of my wife who had been struck by a car and killed while bicycling home from high school. That was a funeral with a significant amount of grieving. Seeing Sheri’s brother, wife and family, and their grief was painful. I started to write a poem I couldn’t finish:

One thing I would never wish to be
Is the guest of honor at a funerary
Celebration.

Parents should grow old, and their children should bury them, who are buried by their children and so on. Everything should be done in a proper order, but things don’t work that way. I remember the words of the poem The Weaver:

The Weaver(author unknown)

My life is but a weaving,
between my Lord and me,
I do not choose the colors;
He knows what they should be.

Ofttimes he weaveth sorrow,
and I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper,
and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent,
and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas,
and explain the reasons why

The dark threads are as needful
in the skillful weaver's hand
As threads of gold and silver
in the pattern He has planned.

I am grateful for Billy Boy, and his short time in our lives. I still look forward to the day when I will be able to parent him and hold him in my arms. In the meantime, I feel his presence, and his loving concern for Sheri and I, and our family.

John Hyrum Wright from Family Search (Grandfather's Brother)

John Hyrum Wright

Contributed By Sheree Southwick Peterson · 27 May 2016 · 0 Comments

John Hyrum Wright 1877-1958 John Hyrum Wright was born on July 7, 1877, in Pleasant Grove, Utah to Hyrum Isaac Wright and Ann Elizabeth Harper Wright. He was the oldest of 10 children. He had 7 brothers and 2 sisters. His siblings include: Elizabeth Ann Wright Heaps (1879-1906), Benjamin Harper Wright (1881-1956), William Alfred Wright (1883-1911), Charles James Wright (1885-1958), Franklin Phipps Wright (1887-1922), Reuben Albert Wright (1890-1976), Elbert Arlic Wright 1892-1914, Eileen Hannah Wright Cartwright (1894-1919), and Isaac Leon Wright (1897-1974). John was raised by a good mother and father that taught him to always respect the laws of God and the laws of the land. He was taught to work and work hard. They had a very large farm with many fruit trees and berries to take care of. But they also had fun fishing, boating and ice skating. John’s father, Hyrum Isaac, had immigrated to America in 1866 when he was only 10 years old and settled in Pleasant Grove, Utah with his grandparents. His father and grandfather were farmers and nurserymen and John followed in their footsteps. At the age of 22, John married Alice Heatherington Trinnaman on February 15th, 1899 in the Salt Lake Temple. A little more than a year later they were happy to welcome their first child, Annie Elizabeth, born April 28, 1900. But only 4 months later she died on September 7, 1900. Then 3 ½ years later, Alice gave birth to another beautiful daughter, Florence Lucille, on January 18, 1904. But his sweet wife, Alice, would not live to raise Florence for she passed away just 6 weeks later on March 1, 1904. Alone and with a new baby to raise on his own, John soon found the sweet companionship of the widowed Ada Amelia Johnson Brown, who also had a young daughter, Della. They were married June 6, 1906 and together started raising their two daughters. In 1907, Ada and John welcomed a daughter to their blended family. Edith was born on April 26. Almost 2 ½ years later, Alice joined the ranks on December 1, 1909. Edna followed 2 years later on December 15, 1911 and Ada joined the all-girls club on January 5, 1914. His wife Ada was a beautiful woman and enjoyed singing. She took ill with a kidney disease known as Bright’s disease and after giving birth to her sixth daughter, Gladys; she passed away on the same day, September 16, 1922. Now John was left with a fragile one and a half pound baby and 6 other daughters to raise by himself. John was a good father and provider for his family. They lived in homes in Pleasant Grove, Lindon, on the outskirts of Lehi by the forks of the road, and American Fork. He had a good business as a nurseryman and always provided them with plenty to eat and wear. They had one of the nicest homes in town and owned one of the first cars. They had dogs, cats, horses, and cows. He taught his girls to work. They learned to work on the farm taking care of the animals and picking fruit. In 1923, John married another widow, Mary Strong Davis Hales, on February 14, 1923, who had 5 children from her previous marriage. They are: Hannah Davis Hales, Charles Weston Hales, Elbert Stephen Hales, Caleb Davis Hales, and Earl Hales. In 1929, tragedy strikes the John Wright family again. His 18 year old daughter Edna and his wife Mary contract spinal meningitis. Mary is able to make a full recovery but Edna dies on January 13, 1929. John lived a life full of happiness, pain, fun, hard-work, love, sorrow, and joy. At the age of 81, he died of natural causes on November 28, 1958 in American Fork Utah. He is buried in the Pleasant Grove City Cemetery. Compiled by Sheree Southwick Peterson, a great-granddaughter

My Mother's Family: Census 1930

The Census of 1830 shows the composition of my mother's family as follows:

• United States Census, 1930 
• Idaho 
• Bonneville 
• Lincoln 
• ED 23 

Chas J Wright	Head	M	43	Utah
Geneva S Wright	Wife	F	37	Utah
Ralph Wright	Son	M	17	Utah
Charlene Wright	Daughter	F	1	Idaho
Ilene Wright	Daughter	F	1	Idaho
Helen Springhall	Stepdaughter	F	18	Utah
Robert Springhall	Stepson	M	16	Utah
Marion Springhall	Stepdaughter	F	14	Utah
William Springhall	Stepson	M	7	Utah

According the the history of Ruth Wright, when her parents separated, Rose and her brother Ralph lived with their father, while she and her sister Ann with their mother.  Rose was married in 1927, and was living in Pocatello at this time.  She married Ruel Norton, and they were sealed in 1930.  He passed away in a farming accident in 1931.

My mother is Ilene (Ileen) in the above census data.  She is the youngest as born a few minutes behind her twin sister.  Helen, Robert, Marion and William are the children of Mina Geneve Brandley and William Arthur Springall.  Rose Marie would be born the next year.  

Ruth Wright, Mom's Half SIster

This is a story written by Ruth Wright, mom's half sister who was the last born to the union of her father and his first wife, Alice Bromley. This history tells of the separation. It also talks about the family members living back and forth between families. This must have been hard.

I am Ruth Wright Teichert. I am now seventy-two years old. I was born July 21st, 1918, the sixth child of James Charles Wright and Alice Bromley. I was told I was a large baby and came so fast my mother hurried to get out of the bathtub where she was bathing. My two sisters and brother were at a neighbor’s and told me they rode home in the back of a wagon to greet me. They were singing. “We have a baby sister!” all the way home. My sister Rose was then ten years old and Ann was seven, and my brother Ralph was five years old.

This is the order of birth of my family members. My sister Rose was born on April 11, 1909 and was named Rosena Amelia after her maternal grandmother. Two years later, on May 25,1911, a second daughter was born and named Ann Elizabeth after her paternal grandmother, Ann Elizabeth Harper. A third child was born on January 22,1913, and he was a son named Ralph Bromley after Dr. Ralph Richards, who saved his life, as Mother had to have her appendix out when she was carrying Ralph. Two stillborn sons were born before 1918 and we buried in the cemetery in American Fork, Utah. They have graves side by side that have grave markers with baby lambs on them. These sons were named Charles and Bert Wright. When I was born in 1918, they named me Ruth. My maternal grandmother shortly before she passed away on February 24, 1918 told my mother she was going to have a baby girl and she wanted me to be named Ruth. Rose Amelia and Ann Elizabeth were born in Lehi, Ralph was born in American Fork, and I was born in Spanish Fork.

The first thing that really is clear in my mind is when we had a fire when we lived in Bingham, Utah. Dad Struhs, my stepfather was working in a copper mine there, and the fire came up the hill. We thought it would burn our home, so we were moving all of our furniture out into a wagon to get it out of the way; but the fire stopped, and the house was saved. That was a very frightening thing to happen when I was a little girl.

Ruth with my mother and her twin sister.  My mother is on right

Rose, Ann Elizabeth, Ralph Ruth and my Grandparents Mina Geneva and Carles James Wright

My mother was only nineteen years old when she married my dad, Charles James Wright, who was then twenty-one years old. They were married October 2, 1907 in Provo, Utah. Father had attended Brigham Young Academy for a short time as a young man, and after marriage he found his trade as a machinist, working first for the sugar company in Lehi, Utah and then in Spanish Fork, Utah. After 1918, my father worked in Lincoln, Idaho, a small town several miles from Idaho Falls, as a machinist keeping the sugar beet stokers in the mill in running order at the Lincoln sugar factory. We lived in a small white house which was then owned by the sugar company. It had a large fenced year and an irrigation ditch running in front by the road. Father would raise a fine garden every year by using the water from the irrigation water than ran in front of our house. We also had a milk cow, pigs, and sometimes chickens.

Grade school picture

I remember my parents buying a model T-Ford, and mother would drive it from Idaho to Utah, back and forth to be with her family who still lived in Utah. She was sickly and had had seven pregnancies in eleven years. She missed her mother who had just recently passed away and her married sisters who were living in Salt Lake City and American Fork. Mother decided to stay in Utah, and in this separation Rose and Ralph were to live with our father in Idaho, and Ann and I went with mother.

Ruth Wright

When in Utah, mother worked as a housekeeper and a chambermaid plus she took nurses training at the L.D.S. Hospital. Ann spent much time with mother’s sisters and I was put in a day nursery. In 1920, mother met Henry Ernest Struhs, a widower with four children: Henry Wilfred, who was born in 1910; Harry Herbert, born in 1911; Louise Carol, born on August 10,1913; and a daughter Ruth born in 1919. The youngest girl had been put up for adoption soon after she was born, as her mother died in childbirth, and Henry’s mother Albertine Seiclist Struhs, then up in years, could only take care of the three older children. Mother married Henry on October 1, 1921 in Salt Lake City, Utah. They were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple on August 17, 1931. When they were first married, Henry worked as a boilermaker on the D&RG Railroad until the workers went on strike in 1922. While in Salt Lake, they lived in a house on 8th West and 2nd South, then at 128 Harvard Avenue which they later sold to mother’s sister Louie Ingersoll. They moved from Salt Lake to Bingham, Utah, where Henry worked in the copper mines until a fire closed the mine. The fire caused much distress and changes for our family as well as many others.

When we lived in Bingham, Utah my father came and took me to live this family in Idaho. While there I was given a small white Spitz puppy, which I named Jo-Jo. We had many Jo-Jo’s in the years to come, because when the first dog passed away, we had his son, and then his son’s son, etc. I took my dogs from Idaho to Utah, and back to Idaho. The last dog I owned, I left in Wyoming with my stepsister Louise and her family when I left for Texas to be married in September of 1939. Mother and Dad Struhs moved to Green River, Wyoming where Dad worked as a boilermaker for the Union Pacific Railroad. Mother worked as a midwife; going all hours of the day and night to assist the doctor’s when babies were being born. She was loved and honored by those she nursed and helped in their need. They rented a company house but moved often as better houses became available and also when Dad was out of work during the Great Depression. On August 18, 1925, a son, Henry, was born to Mother and Dad Struhs, but he only lived a short time. He is buried in the Green River Cemetery. Mother was very ill that year, and I went to Lincoln, Idaho to live with my father, Charles, and his family for a few years. I attended the first and second grades in Lincoln, Idaho. I remember that many of my clothes were lost in the mail when they were sent from Wyoming, and so my sister Rose who was then a teenager, made me many beautiful clothes for school. They took many pictures of me all dressed up in my new outfits with ribbons in my hair, and even on my shoes. I was well cared of by my sister Rose.

Rose was the first in the family to get married. After she was married in 1927, I went back to Green River to live with my mother and dad Struhs and this is where I completed school and graduated from Green River High School in 1937. (In 1987, I went back for my fifty year reunion.) When Rose married, my brother, Ralph, also moved from Idaho to Green River, Wyoming to live with us.

When the family first moved to Green River, Wyoming, there were three boys and three girls living with mother and dad Struhs. Rose stayed in Idaho. She married Ruel Norton. Rose and Ruel first lived in Pocatello, Idaho, and then were sent to Bakersfield, California. Ruel was a telegraph operator, and it was interesting to watch him at the Telephone Company sending messages with dots and dashes. In 1931 while they were vacationing in Idaho, Ruel was helping his brother stack hay, and one of the chains on the lift broke, and it fell and hit Ruel in the head. He died soon after in the hospital. They had been married only a few years and had been sealed in the temple on October 16, 1930. We had a happy life, and Dad Struhs was a wonderful stepfather. He was very thoughtful and kind to his family. We loved him very much. While working as a boilermaker for the Union Pacific Railroad, he was struck in the eye with a piece of welding steel which caused him to lose the sight in that eye. After the accident, he was retired by the railroad. After dad retired, they sold the fine home they had built in Green River and moved to Salt Lake City where they found work as the custodians of several different apartment buildings. One building was on 1st South and 3rd East, another was on 5th South and 3rd East. One was called the Progress Apartments. Mother loved to be back near her family in Utah. She had four remaining siblings in the Salt Lake area; her brother, Will, who was ill with hardening of the arteries; her sister, Lou, was confined at home with arthritis, her sister Jenny who lived in Murray, and her sister Cora who also lived in Salt Lake. Mother’s health was not very good, but she was able to drive her small Dodge Valiant to visit her family for a number of years before she was confined to home with diabetes. While they were custodians of the apartment buildings in Salt Lake City, Mother and Dad Struhs had great joy in caring for their great-grandchildren. Their grandson Alfred Sellers was away serving in the Air Force, and his was Stella was working during the day so Al’s two children, Alfred, Jr. nicknamed Ted, and Alice Ann, were often with the folks.

We were a railroad family. Henry’s sons Wilford, and Harry, as well as my brother Ralph all worked for the railroad. Harry was a brakeman, Wilford worked in the ticket office, and Ralph worked in the ticket office depot for many years and as a ticket agent in their office in Park City, Utah. He later was transferred to Pocatello, Idaho. Ann and Rose worked in the storehouse on the railroad, and even I worked there for awhile doing typing and then time keeping. The railroad paid the best salaries, so whenever we could get a job with the railroad, we took it. Louise, my stepsister worked in the local grocery store. Ralph worked for awhile as a plumber and also in a butcher’s shop before going to work for the railroad. My stepbrother Wilford’s first car was a Whippet. We have quite some memories about that Whippet. It would often stop and stall on top of hills and start rolling backwards, so we would carry bricks in the car and would jump out and put them under the wheels whenever the car stalled. Green River was filled of hills and it also had a high bridge over the many railroad tracks near the depot. We’d swim in the Green River. It was a couple of miles from the main part of town, which was separated from town by an island. We would walk up the riverbank on the island and swim down in the current. Later, we had a swimming pool not far from the river and the island bridge. On the island there was a large building where we went to roller skate, and in the summer we would have dances there. On holidays like the Fourth of July, we had special bands that came to town – some well-known bands like Glen Miller, and Artie Shaw came to Green River to perform. Wilford, my stepbrother, was the second of the children to be married. He married Mary Cummings and they moved to Omaha, Nebraska. Louise, my stepsister, married Harold Krause and had four children; she was a wonderful housekeeper and kept her children just spotless. She was also a good cook, and I loved to go and stay with her and her family. Ann married Claire Sellers on April 23, 1928 in Green River, and they had three children. Claire was working in the courthouse as an assistant county clerk, and he was an excellent typist. They have the most grandchildren and great grandchildren in our family.

Ralph, my brother, married Laura Bernhardt on February 6, 1937 in Green River, and they had four children, all of whom worked hard and earned college degrees. I married Louis Page Teichert on September 23, 1939 in College Station, Texas and we had one daughter, Patricia Ruth who was born April 12, 1941. Patricia earned her college degree June 1977 from University of California in Long Beach. Like my mother used to say. “I could write a book about my life; so many things have happened.” I feel the same way. Happy and sad days make one’s life interesting.

C. J. Wright, Stillborn or Lived 15 Minutes

C. J. Wright, my mother's older brother and the first child born to Charles James Wright and Mina Geneve Brandley was born and died 15 May 1928 in Salt Lake City.  The question is whether he was stillborn or lived a few minutes.  According to the death certificate (upper right corner) he was stillborn.  However my mother relays a story in which she tells that C. J. lived 15 minutes.  At any rate he is in family Search and it indicates he has been sealed to his parents.