The Famous Fighting Career of Wild Willy Nielsen
When I was a kid I had about seven fist fights, but I can only remember four of them. Here goes a short account of them.
I was probable around 10 or 11 and was being picked on by a kid a little bigger than myself but a whole grade older. One day in the winter with snow all over the ground I decided for some reason now unknown to be to try and beat him up in front of my house. Every day after school he would walk past my house on his way home. I put an a big heavy coat and waited for him. When he came along I went out and we started fighting. We were pounding each other for all we were worth, but neither of us hit the other in the face. They were all body punches, and since we both had heave coats on neither felt much. The fight ended and he walked home. He never picked on me again.
Fight 2 was also when I was about 11. I had cut my right arm very deeply along the bicep pulling a paring knife out of a spool of thread (for which I still have a 6 in scar) a few days before I had my arm in a sling and was playing on the asphalt playground at the grade school. Lloyd Euells hit my arm and I thought he did it on purpose. I don’t remember what I did or said ,but he got really mad at me and rushed toward me as fast as he could swinging his fists. I waited until he got right up on me and I quickly, with the speed of a mongoose , stepped aside leaving my foot out to trip him. I also smashed a powerful blow to his face as he stumbled over my foot and went into the asphalt face first and skidded to a stop. He was very hurt . His face was a mess and the fight was over.
Number 3 was when I was in high school. Melvin Andersen was a year younger than I . He was a real dork who when we were kids had hit me in the forehead with a shovel and caused a cut which scared. I got a shovel and hit him back in the same place and he ended up with a scar also. So there was no love lost between us. Well , a few years after the shovel incidents, good old Melvin was in his living room playing with a rifle and ended up shooting the television set to pieces. The story went around and we started calling Melvin, Wyatt Earp. He of course hated it but he was a dork so the name stuck. One day after band , we were putting our instruments away in the band room . The closets were metal and we each had our own. I don’t know what Melvin did but I called him Wyatt and he started to throw punches at me in those very tight quarters. I was very strong by now because of hard work in the hay fields and I pounded his face into a pulp. After a short time I notice that I couldn’t hit him any more with my right hand without pain. The fight ended and my right hand started swelling. Evidently in the wild meeley I had missed and hit the metal locker and broken my hand below the index finger. The next day his face was a real mess, but my hand was twice its normal size and broken. I think I lost that fight
My last fight was the one that convinced me that fighting was not a good idea. Wayne Christiansen was a mean bully about 6’ 4” tall and 220 pounds and liked to push his weight around. He wore rings on each finger for the purpose of cutting up his fight victims. One day in the lunch room , I was sitting across from him when he said to a couple his mean partners in badness something about the truth. Being the bright boy that I was, I said to him. “You wouldn’t know the truth if you saw it.” I left the room and walked over to the locker room at the school. He came in and hit me as hard as he could in the face before I knew what was happening. Then , as I was stunned, he proceeded to pound me to a pulp over and over with those rings. Finally he quit as I was helpless lying on the floor. It was my last fight and I had not even thrown a punch. Wayne got drunk a few years later and wandered onto the train tracks and was run over and killed. No great loss.
So Wild Willy’s fighting career came to an end with a record of 3 wins and 1 loss, except the broken hand incident probably made it 2 wins and 2 losses.
William Martin Nielsen
Showing posts with label 2001. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2001. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 23, 2001
My First Backpacking Trip
My First Backpacking Trip
One morning I woke up unusually late (8:00) and I saw Matthew, Joseph, and Emily preparing for a backpacking trip. When they asked me if I wanted to go, I said, “yes!“ When Meghan came downstairs mom taunted her saying, “Even Whitney’s going, Meghan”. So she decided if I could do it she could go too.
When we finally reached the trailhead we discovered that we needed to have a permit. The sun was almost gone behind the mountains by then so we decided to get one the next day and hiked as far as we could before dark. The camping spot we chose was not far from a stream.
Early the next morning Joseph hiked back and drove to get a backpacking permit. After the sun hit the campground, we set off for Thousand Island Lake. The mosquitoes were really bad and bit us even after we put on the repellent. When we got out of the meadow, the sun, was really hot. We rested at each little spot of shade. During that time, Joseph and Matthew were teasing me because I was complaining. I didn't want to admit that I‘d brought shoes that were too small and hurt my feet really bad. It seemed like forever before we caught sight of the lake. Meghan, Emily and I could barely put up the tent because we were so dead tired.
The next morning I almost cried because Matthew and Joseph said that we were going to take ANOTHER hike around the entire large lake. Luckily, Matthew saved me. He said he wanted to find out where the waterfalls on the other side of the lake were coming from. So all of us, including Nevada, started hiking up the Minerettes. Meghan saw how bad the mosquitoes were biting me and loned me her sweater. We came to snow banks and tried to smash them when we crossed the stream. Finally we came to the waterfall and by then we were dying from heat. We each put our heads under the waterfall to cool off before we hiked up to the snow. The reflection from the snow would have sunburned us but I gave everyone my sunscreen. We continued hiking until we found a frozen lake. Emily tried to climb to the peak of one of the Minerettes and Nevada went with her even though they tried to get him rest. They made it about 2/3 of the way to the top. After that we hiked back to camp and took a long rest.
We took lots of pictures because the scenery was spectacular. One place was so beautiful that we all posed there for an individual picture.
That same day after our rest we packed up camp and started back to the car. The place we camped at that night (on our way back) was so green and beautiful and we were by a trickling stream. Matthew told us a great story to end the day by. After we were in our tents we begged Joseph for his Poof Ball and cat face story?
The next morning we got up and we thought the time was around 8 AM. But much to our surprise we arrived back at the car at eight so we determined that we actually got up at 5AM. It was the best backpacking hike I had ever been on (it was my first trip after all). I really appreciate my brothers taking us girls.
Thank you
One morning I woke up unusually late (8:00) and I saw Matthew, Joseph, and Emily preparing for a backpacking trip. When they asked me if I wanted to go, I said, “yes!“ When Meghan came downstairs mom taunted her saying, “Even Whitney’s going, Meghan”. So she decided if I could do it she could go too.
When we finally reached the trailhead we discovered that we needed to have a permit. The sun was almost gone behind the mountains by then so we decided to get one the next day and hiked as far as we could before dark. The camping spot we chose was not far from a stream.
Early the next morning Joseph hiked back and drove to get a backpacking permit. After the sun hit the campground, we set off for Thousand Island Lake. The mosquitoes were really bad and bit us even after we put on the repellent. When we got out of the meadow, the sun, was really hot. We rested at each little spot of shade. During that time, Joseph and Matthew were teasing me because I was complaining. I didn't want to admit that I‘d brought shoes that were too small and hurt my feet really bad. It seemed like forever before we caught sight of the lake. Meghan, Emily and I could barely put up the tent because we were so dead tired.
The next morning I almost cried because Matthew and Joseph said that we were going to take ANOTHER hike around the entire large lake. Luckily, Matthew saved me. He said he wanted to find out where the waterfalls on the other side of the lake were coming from. So all of us, including Nevada, started hiking up the Minerettes. Meghan saw how bad the mosquitoes were biting me and loned me her sweater. We came to snow banks and tried to smash them when we crossed the stream. Finally we came to the waterfall and by then we were dying from heat. We each put our heads under the waterfall to cool off before we hiked up to the snow. The reflection from the snow would have sunburned us but I gave everyone my sunscreen. We continued hiking until we found a frozen lake. Emily tried to climb to the peak of one of the Minerettes and Nevada went with her even though they tried to get him rest. They made it about 2/3 of the way to the top. After that we hiked back to camp and took a long rest.
We took lots of pictures because the scenery was spectacular. One place was so beautiful that we all posed there for an individual picture.
That same day after our rest we packed up camp and started back to the car. The place we camped at that night (on our way back) was so green and beautiful and we were by a trickling stream. Matthew told us a great story to end the day by. After we were in our tents we begged Joseph for his Poof Ball and cat face story?
The next morning we got up and we thought the time was around 8 AM. But much to our surprise we arrived back at the car at eight so we determined that we actually got up at 5AM. It was the best backpacking hike I had ever been on (it was my first trip after all). I really appreciate my brothers taking us girls.
Thank you
What Got Me Through
What Got Me Through
1989: I didn’t know her very well, in fact the only thing that I knew about her was that she had a pretty voice, dad had taught her in Seminary, that her favorite song was Because We Have Been Given Much, and that she died on her way to come see dad and our new home. When we got the call that Alyssa Brice had been killed in an awful car accident on Balfour the air became thick, sound froze, and time moved like water. The next thing I remember, I was sitting on my bed. I don’t remember what thought processes were going through my mind but I looked up and she was there. I didn’t see her with my eyes, my spirit saw and communicated with her in a way that I had never known and haven’t since. If I could explain it in a mortal way, I saw her sitting on the edge of my bed as if she was perfectly formed heat waves before me. I could see her hair, recognize her features, but I recognized her/knew her through other means. We knew each other, not in life but in a way that we all know each other but no longer remember. She was waiting there with me. I was blessed enough to have been able to provide an environment in which this beautiful creature, this spirit sister, this fellow daughter of god could reside. My guest started talking soon after Alyssa arrived and she left as suddenly as she came. For years I’ve been confused as to why she chose me, why I was one of the people she chose to share a time with. Every year and every different person I become, I think of some different reason why. This year I’m convinced that ultimately by her visiting, I made it through all of my hardest times. This beautiful angel wasn’t someone that I could second-guess, wasn’t something that changes with different fads and so forth. She had been my most permanent testimony of the sublime things that we will be and why we need to strive for eternal life and eventually perfection. No matter who I was and where I went with my life, I knew the truth, I knew where and what I needed to strive for, and I new that I needed to be more.
Love,
Wendy
Christmas 2001
1989: I didn’t know her very well, in fact the only thing that I knew about her was that she had a pretty voice, dad had taught her in Seminary, that her favorite song was Because We Have Been Given Much, and that she died on her way to come see dad and our new home. When we got the call that Alyssa Brice had been killed in an awful car accident on Balfour the air became thick, sound froze, and time moved like water. The next thing I remember, I was sitting on my bed. I don’t remember what thought processes were going through my mind but I looked up and she was there. I didn’t see her with my eyes, my spirit saw and communicated with her in a way that I had never known and haven’t since. If I could explain it in a mortal way, I saw her sitting on the edge of my bed as if she was perfectly formed heat waves before me. I could see her hair, recognize her features, but I recognized her/knew her through other means. We knew each other, not in life but in a way that we all know each other but no longer remember. She was waiting there with me. I was blessed enough to have been able to provide an environment in which this beautiful creature, this spirit sister, this fellow daughter of god could reside. My guest started talking soon after Alyssa arrived and she left as suddenly as she came. For years I’ve been confused as to why she chose me, why I was one of the people she chose to share a time with. Every year and every different person I become, I think of some different reason why. This year I’m convinced that ultimately by her visiting, I made it through all of my hardest times. This beautiful angel wasn’t someone that I could second-guess, wasn’t something that changes with different fads and so forth. She had been my most permanent testimony of the sublime things that we will be and why we need to strive for eternal life and eventually perfection. No matter who I was and where I went with my life, I knew the truth, I knew where and what I needed to strive for, and I new that I needed to be more.
Love,
Wendy
Christmas 2001
My Run-ins With Roses
My Run-ins With Roses
I love roses; doesn’t every girl? I am allergic to most flowers because of their overpowering scent. But roses are perfect. They smell perfect and are so pretty. The only thing I can think of that is a hindrance is the thorns. But, that shouldn’t be a problem should it?
I have received roses on a few occasions in my life from old boyfriends and when I was sick. I loved it, not only because they are so pretty, but also because I was getting special attention.
I always ask Aaron to get me roses. He tells me they are only for special occasions and that if I knew I was getting them, then it wouldn’t be as special. Well, there have been three special occasions so far.
I had only known Aaron about a month when we had a ward party at our high counselors house. We didn’t go to the party together, but right when I got there I made sure he was there. I didn’t talk to him or anything, but I made sure I was in his vision. Before long, he came over and started to talk to me. I was so excited. We played some games outside on the trampoline then we just talked. Aaron led me over to a rose garden that was just beautiful. He smelled the roses and then told me to smell them. He said they were weird because they smelled like water. The roses were surrounded by a 12-inch wall. I went to place my foot on the wall to get closer to the roses. Well, my foot never quite made it to the top of the wall. My shoe got caught on the edge and my body kept moving forward—right into the roses! I jumped quickly because AHHHHHH Aaron was standing there watching me. I felt like such an idiot! I reached up to touch my face and saw blood on my hand. I ran into the bathroom telling Aaron, NO, NO, don’t come with me, I will be fine. I looked at my face in the mirror and saw that my nose had a cut on it along with my lip right under my nose.
Then, I looked down at my arms. MY ARMS! They were so cut up and bloody! What was I going to do? Aaron was going to wonder where I was and if I was okay. So, with much courage, I left the bathroom and returned to him. He just laughed when he saw me. I felt like a spaz. We went home and I ran to my apartment and him to his. I cleaned my self up and bandaged my arms. I was getting ready for bed when there came a knock at the wall. Who could it be? It was Aaron! NOOO! I didn’t want to see him. He looked at me and laughed at all of my bandages. He had something clutched in his hands and I asked him what it was. He opened his had and in it he had a thorn from the rose bush.
Later on, as we continued dating, whenever we came near roses, Aaron would hold me back, to make sure the roses “wouldn’t attack me.” Give me a break. Like I would ever fall into roses again! Well, one day, we went to the rose gardens at Thanksgiving Point. Aaron joked with me, and it was kind of funny, but, enough, I am not an idiot! Hmmmm, a few minutes later, while trying to peel off a thorn (I wanted one because Aaron had one) I slipped and, OPPS, I ended up with a cut up hand. I almost cried because, how can a person be so clumsy? Luckily Aaron had band-aids in his wallet.
Now, you probably remember that I said that Aaron has given me roses three times. And, you are probably thinking, “Holy Cow, did she fall into the roses again?” Well, here’s the story. My grandpa had a heart attack and died last February. I was pretty upset and then, Aaron and I had a conflict. I left when we were not on such good terms and went to the funeral in Colorado. Between the funeral and not knowing if Aaron and I would ever talk again I was so upset. I didn’t even want to go back to school. But, I had to. I got back and was home a few hours when, there was a knock on the door. It was Aaron. We talked a little and then he asked me to come with him to his apartment. I went. He immediately opened his fridge, and out he came with a single rose and some daisies. It was the nicest thing ever. It meant so much to me. I didn’t even cut myself on them.
There is one sad part about roses. When they die, they are gone for good. Well, I have kept something from my experiences. I have a scar under my lip and scars on the undersides of my arms. I will remember all of the roses that Aaron has ever given me forever.
I love roses; doesn’t every girl? I am allergic to most flowers because of their overpowering scent. But roses are perfect. They smell perfect and are so pretty. The only thing I can think of that is a hindrance is the thorns. But, that shouldn’t be a problem should it?
I have received roses on a few occasions in my life from old boyfriends and when I was sick. I loved it, not only because they are so pretty, but also because I was getting special attention.
I always ask Aaron to get me roses. He tells me they are only for special occasions and that if I knew I was getting them, then it wouldn’t be as special. Well, there have been three special occasions so far.
I had only known Aaron about a month when we had a ward party at our high counselors house. We didn’t go to the party together, but right when I got there I made sure he was there. I didn’t talk to him or anything, but I made sure I was in his vision. Before long, he came over and started to talk to me. I was so excited. We played some games outside on the trampoline then we just talked. Aaron led me over to a rose garden that was just beautiful. He smelled the roses and then told me to smell them. He said they were weird because they smelled like water. The roses were surrounded by a 12-inch wall. I went to place my foot on the wall to get closer to the roses. Well, my foot never quite made it to the top of the wall. My shoe got caught on the edge and my body kept moving forward—right into the roses! I jumped quickly because AHHHHHH Aaron was standing there watching me. I felt like such an idiot! I reached up to touch my face and saw blood on my hand. I ran into the bathroom telling Aaron, NO, NO, don’t come with me, I will be fine. I looked at my face in the mirror and saw that my nose had a cut on it along with my lip right under my nose.
Then, I looked down at my arms. MY ARMS! They were so cut up and bloody! What was I going to do? Aaron was going to wonder where I was and if I was okay. So, with much courage, I left the bathroom and returned to him. He just laughed when he saw me. I felt like a spaz. We went home and I ran to my apartment and him to his. I cleaned my self up and bandaged my arms. I was getting ready for bed when there came a knock at the wall. Who could it be? It was Aaron! NOOO! I didn’t want to see him. He looked at me and laughed at all of my bandages. He had something clutched in his hands and I asked him what it was. He opened his had and in it he had a thorn from the rose bush.
Later on, as we continued dating, whenever we came near roses, Aaron would hold me back, to make sure the roses “wouldn’t attack me.” Give me a break. Like I would ever fall into roses again! Well, one day, we went to the rose gardens at Thanksgiving Point. Aaron joked with me, and it was kind of funny, but, enough, I am not an idiot! Hmmmm, a few minutes later, while trying to peel off a thorn (I wanted one because Aaron had one) I slipped and, OPPS, I ended up with a cut up hand. I almost cried because, how can a person be so clumsy? Luckily Aaron had band-aids in his wallet.
Now, you probably remember that I said that Aaron has given me roses three times. And, you are probably thinking, “Holy Cow, did she fall into the roses again?” Well, here’s the story. My grandpa had a heart attack and died last February. I was pretty upset and then, Aaron and I had a conflict. I left when we were not on such good terms and went to the funeral in Colorado. Between the funeral and not knowing if Aaron and I would ever talk again I was so upset. I didn’t even want to go back to school. But, I had to. I got back and was home a few hours when, there was a knock on the door. It was Aaron. We talked a little and then he asked me to come with him to his apartment. I went. He immediately opened his fridge, and out he came with a single rose and some daisies. It was the nicest thing ever. It meant so much to me. I didn’t even cut myself on them.
There is one sad part about roses. When they die, they are gone for good. Well, I have kept something from my experiences. I have a scar under my lip and scars on the undersides of my arms. I will remember all of the roses that Aaron has ever given me forever.
Micro-Organisms
Micro-Organisms
At home:
the trip.
(Michael Walwyn Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
At home:
Michael: Hey mom!At the lake:
Mom: What?
Michael: How many socks should I pack for the hiking trip?
Mom: About one pair…
Michael: Ok
Hey, we’re already here at Heather Lake and we still have a bunch of day light, lets set up camp then walk to the lake just down the trail…In the rain:
Do you think it’ll rain?
No..
Man, it’s really pouring down, it’s getting pretty cold too. What an adventure.Back at camp:
Lets head back to camp. It’s freezing…I think I’m gonna die.
Oh, don’t worry, you just need some dry clothes and you’ll be fine…
Oh poop, our tents are soaked.This Story ends with Harvey making fun of the ranger in a gay voice, dad winning 1000 dollars (in Reno during the ticket “trial”), and us avoiding the Rangers the rest of
Michael, get dressed in some warm clothes.
Michael: I can’t…
Why not?
Michael: I don’t have any.
Why not?
Michael: Because mom told me to only pack one pair of everything so my Pack would be light.
Dad: “Dang-it!”
Well, lets build a fire so you don’t die.
Burn crackle crackle
Feel better?
Michael: Yeah…
Gay Ranger: Good evening ya’ll, how’s it going? Mind ‘fi join you? O look, what a beautiful fire, are you aware that it’s a…against the law to have a fire here in the Desolation Wilderness? Did you?
Dad: Well officer, I figured I didn’t want my son to die so I thought maybe I could build a fire to warm him up, he forgot his clothes.
Gay Ranger: Yeah, well aint that a tear jerker, I could let it go but I’m just wondering if you know how many micro-organisms you’re killing. I don’t think this spot of ground will ever be the same, the damage done is irreversible….So here’s your ticket, have a nice evening.
the trip.
(Michael Walwyn Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
2001: A SPACE MEMORY
2001: A SPACE MEMORY
Ok, here is a great memory from about 5 or so years ago…well at least I think it is pretty cool. I was a freshman in college. But before we get into the story we need a little background information. In 1977 one of the greatest movies of all time was presented to the world. Yep you guessed it: Star Wars episode IV A New Hope. Don’t let the name fool any of you young ones reading this story, it was actually a good movie. Yes little ones, Star Wars movies were actually good movies. Before the Dark Times, before the Menace.
With that background we can return to the story at hand. The special edition of Star Wars came out my freshman year and seeing as how my roommate (Jared Teter), Aaron, Dan and I were rabid Star Wars fans, (ok, Dan just came along for the ride) we decided to get tickets and watch all three of the movies on opening night. The problem was that everyone else had that same plan and so in order to accomplish our designs we had to wait in line. So we got in line around 4:00 pm. The box office opened at 11:00 so we only had approximately 19 hours to go. We were all laying in the street in our sleeping bags and passing the time by playing risk and watching movies on a large T.V., which was hooked up to a generator. (Are you beginning to see the mental health issues that surround Star Wars fans??). Well we survived the freezing February night and got tickets in the morning. Mission accomplished, the movie was great and we saw it on the opening night. The story however does not end here, it only begins…as we entered the theater we beheld riches exceeding all that we had ever imagined, and we could imagine quite a bit. Window stickers of the great Darth Vader three feet tall, Yoda, ewoks (ewoks suck), everything was there! Cardboard cutouts of the entire cast! They would all be ours, oh yes, they would all be ours. But how? They were guarded by the theater’s evil imperial guards whose constant vigil would make capturing the treasure as hard as capturing the secret plans of the original Death Star! And as we all know many Bothan Spies died in that endeavor. Which of us was likewise disposable? But, they would be ours somehow, and at any cost.
It is possible that our lust for the paraphernalia clouded our reason because the last of the three movies was about to open and we found ourselves ticketless. So there we were on opening night frantically trying to buy tickets from people in line and thereby get into the last showing. Finally one of us had the bright idea to see if there were any tickets left in the box office. And lo and behold, there were! It was a miracle, and so it was that we found ourselves in the last showing of The Return of the Jedi. After the show we were in a good mood as we came out of the theater, but our jovial mood soon turned into elation as we entered the lobby and found that the guards had abandoned their posts! Nobody was guarding the prized treasure! From this point on in the story all parties will be referred to by pseudonyms to protect the identities of the guilty. One of us, who will be known as “Tared Jeter”, went to work immediately. He began trying to caress R2D2 off of the huge cardboard display. He was thus engaged when “Aarastas” ran up and grabbed Yoda by the ear and yanked him off with one deft motion. Tared Jeter, inspired by this new and efficient tactic, yanked R2 from the display and then, using skills only a true Jedi can possess, leapt onto the candy counter and sprinted to the window where he obtained the window stickers of Darth Vader, Yoda and the Gay Ewok. And then as soon as the thieving rampage had begun it was over and they were gone. At this point Natthew Mielsen played the role of sentinel and made sure that the evil guards were not pursuing our heroes. He relayed this information to Tared and Aarastas. They then walked home without incident and Darth Vader adorned their window for the rest of the year. It had been a perfect tactical strike and nobody ever knew who had performed it. Post Script.
Actually that last statement was not entirely true. Two years later Natthew found himself in Brazil far from the crime and far from anyone who could possibly know of it. Or so he thought. In Brazil he met a boy named Vince Penman who had years earlier lived in Provo and had been guarding a great treasure in a movie theater that had been stolen one night when he and his fellow guards had failed to keep their vigil. He was especially devastated by the loss because if he had been successful in guarding the treasure much of it would have become his and it was for this very purpose that he had gotten a job as a guard in the first place. Penman soon learned of the great crime and that Natthew had been involved. However, at this time Natthew was Penman’s boss of sorts and so all was forgiven. It is now 5 years later and Yoda still watches over our apartment from the wall. I think that he likes his new home.
Ok, here is a great memory from about 5 or so years ago…well at least I think it is pretty cool. I was a freshman in college. But before we get into the story we need a little background information. In 1977 one of the greatest movies of all time was presented to the world. Yep you guessed it: Star Wars episode IV A New Hope. Don’t let the name fool any of you young ones reading this story, it was actually a good movie. Yes little ones, Star Wars movies were actually good movies. Before the Dark Times, before the Menace.
With that background we can return to the story at hand. The special edition of Star Wars came out my freshman year and seeing as how my roommate (Jared Teter), Aaron, Dan and I were rabid Star Wars fans, (ok, Dan just came along for the ride) we decided to get tickets and watch all three of the movies on opening night. The problem was that everyone else had that same plan and so in order to accomplish our designs we had to wait in line. So we got in line around 4:00 pm. The box office opened at 11:00 so we only had approximately 19 hours to go. We were all laying in the street in our sleeping bags and passing the time by playing risk and watching movies on a large T.V., which was hooked up to a generator. (Are you beginning to see the mental health issues that surround Star Wars fans??). Well we survived the freezing February night and got tickets in the morning. Mission accomplished, the movie was great and we saw it on the opening night. The story however does not end here, it only begins…as we entered the theater we beheld riches exceeding all that we had ever imagined, and we could imagine quite a bit. Window stickers of the great Darth Vader three feet tall, Yoda, ewoks (ewoks suck), everything was there! Cardboard cutouts of the entire cast! They would all be ours, oh yes, they would all be ours. But how? They were guarded by the theater’s evil imperial guards whose constant vigil would make capturing the treasure as hard as capturing the secret plans of the original Death Star! And as we all know many Bothan Spies died in that endeavor. Which of us was likewise disposable? But, they would be ours somehow, and at any cost.
It is possible that our lust for the paraphernalia clouded our reason because the last of the three movies was about to open and we found ourselves ticketless. So there we were on opening night frantically trying to buy tickets from people in line and thereby get into the last showing. Finally one of us had the bright idea to see if there were any tickets left in the box office. And lo and behold, there were! It was a miracle, and so it was that we found ourselves in the last showing of The Return of the Jedi. After the show we were in a good mood as we came out of the theater, but our jovial mood soon turned into elation as we entered the lobby and found that the guards had abandoned their posts! Nobody was guarding the prized treasure! From this point on in the story all parties will be referred to by pseudonyms to protect the identities of the guilty. One of us, who will be known as “Tared Jeter”, went to work immediately. He began trying to caress R2D2 off of the huge cardboard display. He was thus engaged when “Aarastas” ran up and grabbed Yoda by the ear and yanked him off with one deft motion. Tared Jeter, inspired by this new and efficient tactic, yanked R2 from the display and then, using skills only a true Jedi can possess, leapt onto the candy counter and sprinted to the window where he obtained the window stickers of Darth Vader, Yoda and the Gay Ewok. And then as soon as the thieving rampage had begun it was over and they were gone. At this point Natthew Mielsen played the role of sentinel and made sure that the evil guards were not pursuing our heroes. He relayed this information to Tared and Aarastas. They then walked home without incident and Darth Vader adorned their window for the rest of the year. It had been a perfect tactical strike and nobody ever knew who had performed it. Post Script.
Actually that last statement was not entirely true. Two years later Natthew found himself in Brazil far from the crime and far from anyone who could possibly know of it. Or so he thought. In Brazil he met a boy named Vince Penman who had years earlier lived in Provo and had been guarding a great treasure in a movie theater that had been stolen one night when he and his fellow guards had failed to keep their vigil. He was especially devastated by the loss because if he had been successful in guarding the treasure much of it would have become his and it was for this very purpose that he had gotten a job as a guard in the first place. Penman soon learned of the great crime and that Natthew had been involved. However, at this time Natthew was Penman’s boss of sorts and so all was forgiven. It is now 5 years later and Yoda still watches over our apartment from the wall. I think that he likes his new home.
My Christmases Past
My Christmases Past
I will tell you what Christmas was like for me when I was young. I remember my Grandma Green always very excited to open her presents. She was old but because of her eagerness she seemed like a little girl. I love my Grandma. I always got her a special gift because she was always so excited to open her presents. I remember how she’d lick her lips and sort of lean towards the tree and her presents with eager anticipation for her turn.
My favorite present that I ever got for Christmas as a child was a bunch of doll clothes that my Grandma made for my dolls. She even knitted a sweater for one of the outfits. That year I got a small fold up table w/ fold up chairs - they were yellow and a doll dish set plus the doll clothes. It was my best Christmas.
The gift I remember the most was one my dad got my mother. He got her a griddle (the same electric griddle that she still uses today by the way). He had the base wrapped in a beautiful box, the lid wrapped in another stacked on top and a small beautifully wrapped box (the thermostat and plug) wrapped in a 3rd box up on top. All the boxes were wrapped with a lovely bow. I was SO excited to see what was inside that I must have looked disappointed when I saw it was for my mother. Dad told me that I could share it with my mom - hence I got to cook many meals on it later :( ha ha
Christmas eve our family never had any traditions to speak of except that I would always set out cookies and a glass of milk for Santa. When I was a teenager, my mom mentioned that Billy Timothy had her entire family over each Christmas eve to a festive feast. Just an aside comment from my mom and voila the genesis of our family’s Christmas eve feast.
One Christmas eve when I was 16, Grandma asked me to drive her around so she could deliver all her presents she’d gathered throughout the year to give to her friends. I was glad that I could do that for my Grandma. She would always complement me profusely whenever I did the smallest thing, so I thought I was terribly kind and special for every little thing I did. Unfortunately before I married that is my most memorable Christmas eve. But while I’m talking about complements from my grandmother, I will tell you about this other one. Grandma was English and she loved scones. Many were the times when I would anxiously await grandma’s scones to rise so we could fry and eat them. I remember one time standing by grandma and thinking I just couldn’t wait until I could eat a scone. I wanted one right then so bad! I just remember what it was like to want something with every fiber of my being and not being able to have it for awhile. It was hard. When I was older I was in a 4-H club. It was a cooking club. I learned how to make really good homemade hand kneaded bread there. Grandma was old at this time - just a few years before her death. She hobbled upstairs and asked me if I would make her some scones because she’d been craving them and couldn’t make them anymore. Now, you need to realize that homemade bread - the kind I was taught to make - took six hours and it was before the day of bread makers or even electric mixers that would knead the bread for you. Well, I made some for her. I guess it was dough that was touched by an angel, or something, but it’s the best bread dough I ever made in my life. It was bubbly and light and wonderful. I fried her up scones and every single scone bubbled up and was wonderfully hollow in the middle. She praised me. She raved about how wonderful my scones were. They really were too. Because I was so happy that she liked and appreciated those scones so much I made them for her several more times but it was sort of disappointing because I was never able to make them as good as that first time. To this day, I am really happy that I made my grandmother those scones.
I remember being in Christmas Primary programs. The Timothy’s took a “movie” of me performing at one of these programs and I was really really cute . I still remember part of the poem and I was like 3 or 4. It was about trees and some like apple or cherry but the one that made me merry, was a Christmas tree . Cute stuff.
After we woke up Christmas morning we would open our gifts. I’m so glad that my Grandma Green lived with us. She and my dad made opening gifts so fun and almost magical. I guess it was Grandma’s enthusiasm for opening them that captured me.
Sometimes my grandma was like having a sister live with me. She was always getting in trouble from my mom as was I . She played with me and was always excited about making something for others. I got my love of quilting, knitting and crocheting from this special lady. My mother and eventually my mother and I would make cut out cookies every year and we would always frosten them all the same - yellow stars with each tip being decorated with a silver ball. Pink bells with a silver ball where the ringer was. Santa with pink cheeks and coconut on his beard and green Christmas trees w/ sprinkles for the ornaments. I love my large creative family but sometimes I miss the order of my mom’s and my cookies all looking the same - perfect in my eyes.
Soon after we opened our gifts the doorbell would ring and it was someone of my 9 girlfriends from the neighborhood. She would give me a small gift and I would give her hers and then I’d show her everything I got for Christmas and then I’d go to her house and see everything she got. Then we’d go to another friend, exchange gifts and see what they got for Christmas and so on until everyone had given to everyone and had seen everyone's everything.
Then we’d go visit all my various aunts and uncles and see what they got for Christmas. Of course at every home we went to we were offered goodies and drinks and hence I never remember eating meals on Christmas Day (except for once) but I also never remember being hungry.
The one meal I remember eating was breakfast. One year when I was about 10 my dad said, tomorrow we’re going to eat a nice breakfast before we go in to open our Christmas presents. He made it fun - not like a punishment so it was exciting to think about the gifts waiting for me under the tree. Of course we had to wash the dishes & put them away too. Mom and dad always kept Christmas simple. I never got elaborate or expensive gifts. I mean I got a couple of bikes but never for Christmas. I guess they didn’t want neighbors or family thinking they were trying to outdo anyone.
Well that was what my Christmases were like when I was a child living at home with my parents. I have some happy memories and hope that every child will grow up with fond memories of how their families spend Christmas.
I will tell you what Christmas was like for me when I was young. I remember my Grandma Green always very excited to open her presents. She was old but because of her eagerness she seemed like a little girl. I love my Grandma. I always got her a special gift because she was always so excited to open her presents. I remember how she’d lick her lips and sort of lean towards the tree and her presents with eager anticipation for her turn.
My favorite present that I ever got for Christmas as a child was a bunch of doll clothes that my Grandma made for my dolls. She even knitted a sweater for one of the outfits. That year I got a small fold up table w/ fold up chairs - they were yellow and a doll dish set plus the doll clothes. It was my best Christmas.
The gift I remember the most was one my dad got my mother. He got her a griddle (the same electric griddle that she still uses today by the way). He had the base wrapped in a beautiful box, the lid wrapped in another stacked on top and a small beautifully wrapped box (the thermostat and plug) wrapped in a 3rd box up on top. All the boxes were wrapped with a lovely bow. I was SO excited to see what was inside that I must have looked disappointed when I saw it was for my mother. Dad told me that I could share it with my mom - hence I got to cook many meals on it later :( ha ha
Christmas eve our family never had any traditions to speak of except that I would always set out cookies and a glass of milk for Santa. When I was a teenager, my mom mentioned that Billy Timothy had her entire family over each Christmas eve to a festive feast. Just an aside comment from my mom and voila the genesis of our family’s Christmas eve feast.
One Christmas eve when I was 16, Grandma asked me to drive her around so she could deliver all her presents she’d gathered throughout the year to give to her friends. I was glad that I could do that for my Grandma. She would always complement me profusely whenever I did the smallest thing, so I thought I was terribly kind and special for every little thing I did. Unfortunately before I married that is my most memorable Christmas eve. But while I’m talking about complements from my grandmother, I will tell you about this other one. Grandma was English and she loved scones. Many were the times when I would anxiously await grandma’s scones to rise so we could fry and eat them. I remember one time standing by grandma and thinking I just couldn’t wait until I could eat a scone. I wanted one right then so bad! I just remember what it was like to want something with every fiber of my being and not being able to have it for awhile. It was hard. When I was older I was in a 4-H club. It was a cooking club. I learned how to make really good homemade hand kneaded bread there. Grandma was old at this time - just a few years before her death. She hobbled upstairs and asked me if I would make her some scones because she’d been craving them and couldn’t make them anymore. Now, you need to realize that homemade bread - the kind I was taught to make - took six hours and it was before the day of bread makers or even electric mixers that would knead the bread for you. Well, I made some for her. I guess it was dough that was touched by an angel, or something, but it’s the best bread dough I ever made in my life. It was bubbly and light and wonderful. I fried her up scones and every single scone bubbled up and was wonderfully hollow in the middle. She praised me. She raved about how wonderful my scones were. They really were too. Because I was so happy that she liked and appreciated those scones so much I made them for her several more times but it was sort of disappointing because I was never able to make them as good as that first time. To this day, I am really happy that I made my grandmother those scones.
I remember being in Christmas Primary programs. The Timothy’s took a “movie” of me performing at one of these programs and I was really really cute . I still remember part of the poem and I was like 3 or 4. It was about trees and some like apple or cherry but the one that made me merry, was a Christmas tree . Cute stuff.
After we woke up Christmas morning we would open our gifts. I’m so glad that my Grandma Green lived with us. She and my dad made opening gifts so fun and almost magical. I guess it was Grandma’s enthusiasm for opening them that captured me.
Sometimes my grandma was like having a sister live with me. She was always getting in trouble from my mom as was I . She played with me and was always excited about making something for others. I got my love of quilting, knitting and crocheting from this special lady. My mother and eventually my mother and I would make cut out cookies every year and we would always frosten them all the same - yellow stars with each tip being decorated with a silver ball. Pink bells with a silver ball where the ringer was. Santa with pink cheeks and coconut on his beard and green Christmas trees w/ sprinkles for the ornaments. I love my large creative family but sometimes I miss the order of my mom’s and my cookies all looking the same - perfect in my eyes.
Soon after we opened our gifts the doorbell would ring and it was someone of my 9 girlfriends from the neighborhood. She would give me a small gift and I would give her hers and then I’d show her everything I got for Christmas and then I’d go to her house and see everything she got. Then we’d go to another friend, exchange gifts and see what they got for Christmas and so on until everyone had given to everyone and had seen everyone's everything.
Then we’d go visit all my various aunts and uncles and see what they got for Christmas. Of course at every home we went to we were offered goodies and drinks and hence I never remember eating meals on Christmas Day (except for once) but I also never remember being hungry.
The one meal I remember eating was breakfast. One year when I was about 10 my dad said, tomorrow we’re going to eat a nice breakfast before we go in to open our Christmas presents. He made it fun - not like a punishment so it was exciting to think about the gifts waiting for me under the tree. Of course we had to wash the dishes & put them away too. Mom and dad always kept Christmas simple. I never got elaborate or expensive gifts. I mean I got a couple of bikes but never for Christmas. I guess they didn’t want neighbors or family thinking they were trying to outdo anyone.
Well that was what my Christmases were like when I was a child living at home with my parents. I have some happy memories and hope that every child will grow up with fond memories of how their families spend Christmas.
I learned, I like, I can
I learned to ride my bike and to swim. I like to jump on the trampoline with daddy and Aaron but Aaron isn’t here this year.
I like the tree house and Joseph built and Matthew.
I can read now. I am doing good in school and I am especially good at math and art.
Sometimes I go hiking with our family. We went on a really long hot one last summer. It was hard.
I like the tree house and Joseph built and Matthew.
I can read now. I am doing good in school and I am especially good at math and art.
Sometimes I go hiking with our family. We went on a really long hot one last summer. It was hard.
I had been scared of this kid for awhile
A story related about three 18 year old boys from a rescue party for the martin handcart company. They carried almost the entire company across the freezing river and all three boys died of related health problems. When Pres Brigham Young heard what these three boys had done, he wept. He later said that this act alone would ensure the three young men places in the celestial kingdom.
I’ve often thought of this selfless act and the Christ like love they showed to others. My story is an experience I consider very similar to the one above. I don’t know a lot about the three boys personal lives but can only assume they were decent young men. The protagonist in my story however is a little different…
I had been scared of this kid for awhile. He hung out with a dangerous crowd, he smoked, drank, and took part in may other non churchy things. I had never really talked to him and now he was at a different school, high school. I was in 8th grade when this story took place. I’d always advanced along with David in church and school, but this was the first year Davey would be in a different school. As his little-big brother I felt very protective of him. One day at lunch a kid came up to me and told me someone had slammed David’s face into the lunch table while saying “David you bug me”. I was very upset and headed over to my bike at the bike rack determined to ride over to the high school, pull the kid out of class, and beat the snot out of him, or get the snot beat out of me trying. The same barer of bad news caught up to me and told me everything was okay. The stoner kid that I had been afraid of, had already beaten the jerky kid to a pulp. I learned a good lesson that day. For all the “stoners” visible flaws he was the only person in the lunchroom that day that stood up for what was right. I’m not saying that one act will guarantee him the celestial kingdom, and I can’t deny it either. I believe he showed true Christ like attributes that day.
(Joseph Thomas Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
I’ve often thought of this selfless act and the Christ like love they showed to others. My story is an experience I consider very similar to the one above. I don’t know a lot about the three boys personal lives but can only assume they were decent young men. The protagonist in my story however is a little different…
I had been scared of this kid for awhile. He hung out with a dangerous crowd, he smoked, drank, and took part in may other non churchy things. I had never really talked to him and now he was at a different school, high school. I was in 8th grade when this story took place. I’d always advanced along with David in church and school, but this was the first year Davey would be in a different school. As his little-big brother I felt very protective of him. One day at lunch a kid came up to me and told me someone had slammed David’s face into the lunch table while saying “David you bug me”. I was very upset and headed over to my bike at the bike rack determined to ride over to the high school, pull the kid out of class, and beat the snot out of him, or get the snot beat out of me trying. The same barer of bad news caught up to me and told me everything was okay. The stoner kid that I had been afraid of, had already beaten the jerky kid to a pulp. I learned a good lesson that day. For all the “stoners” visible flaws he was the only person in the lunchroom that day that stood up for what was right. I’m not saying that one act will guarantee him the celestial kingdom, and I can’t deny it either. I believe he showed true Christ like attributes that day.
(Joseph Thomas Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
Christmas at my mother’s house…
Christmas at my mother’s house…
After we eat Christmas dinner; my sister, my cousins, and myself sit around the table and talk of the antics of Grandpa Collins. We would do this before he died and we knew the stories by heart, but the telling of the stories was the enjoyable part. Every year we would die laughing and every year a new twist would be placed on the story. To put this in perspective, since you have never met my grandpa, I must first introduce you to his unique style of life. Nothing bothered him, seriously, nothing ever embarrassed him! 99% of the time he would sit in his easychair, watch the ballgame, and ignore every word my grandmother spoke (except dinner, lunch, breakfast, and maybe “the phone is for you”).
Grandpa had the oddest since of humor. Example: my cousin, Aaron, who is Deathly afraid of heights was painting the eves of his house. Grandpa thought it was the funniest thing to walk under the ladder and vigorously shake it, until Aaron clutched on for dear life. When you rode with him in the summer you always had to watch your elbows as you rested them on the rolled down window, Grandpa loved to take the mirrors of cars parked in the street. Unfortunately it was on YOUR side of the car. Shrapnel would fly, and he wouldn’t even crack a smile. We learned to sit with our hands in our laps!
My favorite Grandpa Story was what we dubbed the ATM story. It was the summer of ’85 and the banks had just begun using ATM’s. So Grandpa had my dad drive him to the bank so he could get cash. At the time we had a tan station wagon. Any who, we pulled in to the front of the band, Grandpa got out, waltzed inside. After he entered the bank, a black family, driving a tan station wagon, pulled in the space next to us and the person in the passenger side went in to the bank. In a few minutes Grandpa came out of the bank and strolled over to the black families passenger side, opened the door, and sat down. He slapped the gentleman in the drivers seat on the knee and said. “Jimmy I got this cash from a machine” holding a fan fold of cash. It was at that moment that he realized that he was in the wrong car. The black man looked over at our car with a stare that said. “Help me! A crazy man has entered my car!” Saw my father laughing so hard the he was crying. Realizing what had transpired, he smiled and laughed. My Grandfather, however, realizing that he was in the wrong car with a fist full of cash, had difficulty getting out of the car. But after a few attempts he succeeded.
Meanwhile, back in the correct car we all were laughing so hard that we were lying in the foot wheels. Grandpa had now gotten out of the other car and had entered our car. He slapped my dad on the knee and said. “Jimmy I got this cash from a machine”. He didn’t laugh, discuss it, joke, nothing! To him it never happened and he never talked of it, ever!
(James Hobart Collins, Christmas 2001)
After we eat Christmas dinner; my sister, my cousins, and myself sit around the table and talk of the antics of Grandpa Collins. We would do this before he died and we knew the stories by heart, but the telling of the stories was the enjoyable part. Every year we would die laughing and every year a new twist would be placed on the story. To put this in perspective, since you have never met my grandpa, I must first introduce you to his unique style of life. Nothing bothered him, seriously, nothing ever embarrassed him! 99% of the time he would sit in his easychair, watch the ballgame, and ignore every word my grandmother spoke (except dinner, lunch, breakfast, and maybe “the phone is for you”).
Grandpa had the oddest since of humor. Example: my cousin, Aaron, who is Deathly afraid of heights was painting the eves of his house. Grandpa thought it was the funniest thing to walk under the ladder and vigorously shake it, until Aaron clutched on for dear life. When you rode with him in the summer you always had to watch your elbows as you rested them on the rolled down window, Grandpa loved to take the mirrors of cars parked in the street. Unfortunately it was on YOUR side of the car. Shrapnel would fly, and he wouldn’t even crack a smile. We learned to sit with our hands in our laps!
My favorite Grandpa Story was what we dubbed the ATM story. It was the summer of ’85 and the banks had just begun using ATM’s. So Grandpa had my dad drive him to the bank so he could get cash. At the time we had a tan station wagon. Any who, we pulled in to the front of the band, Grandpa got out, waltzed inside. After he entered the bank, a black family, driving a tan station wagon, pulled in the space next to us and the person in the passenger side went in to the bank. In a few minutes Grandpa came out of the bank and strolled over to the black families passenger side, opened the door, and sat down. He slapped the gentleman in the drivers seat on the knee and said. “Jimmy I got this cash from a machine” holding a fan fold of cash. It was at that moment that he realized that he was in the wrong car. The black man looked over at our car with a stare that said. “Help me! A crazy man has entered my car!” Saw my father laughing so hard the he was crying. Realizing what had transpired, he smiled and laughed. My Grandfather, however, realizing that he was in the wrong car with a fist full of cash, had difficulty getting out of the car. But after a few attempts he succeeded.
Meanwhile, back in the correct car we all were laughing so hard that we were lying in the foot wheels. Grandpa had now gotten out of the other car and had entered our car. He slapped my dad on the knee and said. “Jimmy I got this cash from a machine”. He didn’t laugh, discuss it, joke, nothing! To him it never happened and he never talked of it, ever!
(James Hobart Collins, Christmas 2001)
We remember our 1st Christmas together
December 17, 1901(2001)
Dear Marsha, Bill, & all,
Another year is coming to a close and as we look back, changes have taken place in many different ways. We are all a year older and perhaps wiser. Grandpa and I remember when we could do almost anything, now we are traveling the road of life at a much slower pace, due to health problems and age, but thankful for our blessings.
We remember our 1st Christmas together in our modest small home. By the time the next year rolled around, our Country was at war and Grandpa was a private in the Army Air Force. We spent that Christmas in Ca. at the home of Howard & Mary Bacon.
(While Grandpa was in training in LA, Grandma would go and see him during his visiting hours in the evening. He, of course, couldn’t walk her back to her hotel in the evening, so every night, she would run as fast as she could, scared to death, with her eyes as closed as possible to the safety of her hotel. Once she arrived, she slammed the door shut, locked it up, and then with her back against the door, would start to cry from terror and relief that once again, she had made it back to safety.)
Soon after Grandpa was shipped overseas to No. Africa. So then I returned home to Kaysville, rented our house and moved home with Grandpa & Grandma Webster and the family.
(Grandma worked and saved money at the local Kaysville potato chip factory while Grandpa served the country overseas in such places as Africa, Italy, and other European countries while saving all he could as well. They were too poor to purchase wedding rings when they were sealed, so instead, mailed each other their precious wedding bands, one to Kaysville and the other to Africa. They still have many of the letters sent to each other during that time.)
We were not together at Christmas for almost three years. Then in 1945, World War 2 ended and once again we returned to our home together.
We never know what’s ahead in our lives, but as things happen we adjust and carry on, trusting in the Lord to help us.
A Christmas in 1950 was a very Happy Most memorable one indeed, for under the Christmas tree was a sweet little 6 mo. old baby trying so hard to open gifts and eyes wide looking at the lights on the tree, our own Christmas angel – so special.
Our country is at war again and the turmoil touches every life in some way. Much suffering and conflict exists. We have to live our lives the best we can, by being honest, pure and humble, and help those less fortunate. It’s good when we can look back on Christmas memories, even though some were meager, happiness prevailed and there was food on the table and love abided in the home.
Pres. Hinckley said “It seems to me that the Savior is saying to each of us that unless we lose ourselves in the service of others, our lives are largely lived to no real purpose -- He who lives only unto himself withers and dies, while he who forgets himself in the service of others, blossoms in this life and in eternity.”
Count your Day Lost
If you sit down at the set of sun
And count the acts that you have don
And counting, find
One self denying deed, on word
That eased the heart of him that heard
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went –
Then you may count that day well spent.
But if through all the life long day
You’ve cheered no heart by yea or nay –
If through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face –
No act so small
That helped some soul and nothing cost
Then count that day as worse than lost.
By George Eliot
Just a poem to think on.
We know you do many things for others, as a Mother & Father you do so much for your family – teaching, guiding and proper example.
Pres. Monson says “giving, not getting, brings to full bloom the Christmas spirit.”
Pres. Faust says, “May we savor and perpetuate the Christmas traditions which express our endearment and love to each other.”
There is much good in the world as we think of Christmas and can all be grateful for the spirit that comes into our hearts, when we think a little less bitterness and hate. More of love and reaching out to those in trouble and need. We can do this throughout the year. We enjoy listening to the Christmas carols. Silent night – O’ Little Town of Bethlehem, Come all ye Faithful, Joy to the World, I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day, O Holy Night, Star Bright – just to mention a few.
We love you as our family and you have helped us in many ways – by giving as the Lord says “If Ye Love Me, keep my commandments”.
We have been blessed by all of your lives and may this be a Special Christmas for all of you. May the Christmas spirit stay shining brightly in your hearts.
We love you
Grandma & Grandpa
Dear Marsha, Bill, & all,
Another year is coming to a close and as we look back, changes have taken place in many different ways. We are all a year older and perhaps wiser. Grandpa and I remember when we could do almost anything, now we are traveling the road of life at a much slower pace, due to health problems and age, but thankful for our blessings.
We remember our 1st Christmas together in our modest small home. By the time the next year rolled around, our Country was at war and Grandpa was a private in the Army Air Force. We spent that Christmas in Ca. at the home of Howard & Mary Bacon.
(While Grandpa was in training in LA, Grandma would go and see him during his visiting hours in the evening. He, of course, couldn’t walk her back to her hotel in the evening, so every night, she would run as fast as she could, scared to death, with her eyes as closed as possible to the safety of her hotel. Once she arrived, she slammed the door shut, locked it up, and then with her back against the door, would start to cry from terror and relief that once again, she had made it back to safety.)
Soon after Grandpa was shipped overseas to No. Africa. So then I returned home to Kaysville, rented our house and moved home with Grandpa & Grandma Webster and the family.
(Grandma worked and saved money at the local Kaysville potato chip factory while Grandpa served the country overseas in such places as Africa, Italy, and other European countries while saving all he could as well. They were too poor to purchase wedding rings when they were sealed, so instead, mailed each other their precious wedding bands, one to Kaysville and the other to Africa. They still have many of the letters sent to each other during that time.)
We were not together at Christmas for almost three years. Then in 1945, World War 2 ended and once again we returned to our home together.
We never know what’s ahead in our lives, but as things happen we adjust and carry on, trusting in the Lord to help us.
A Christmas in 1950 was a very Happy Most memorable one indeed, for under the Christmas tree was a sweet little 6 mo. old baby trying so hard to open gifts and eyes wide looking at the lights on the tree, our own Christmas angel – so special.
Our country is at war again and the turmoil touches every life in some way. Much suffering and conflict exists. We have to live our lives the best we can, by being honest, pure and humble, and help those less fortunate. It’s good when we can look back on Christmas memories, even though some were meager, happiness prevailed and there was food on the table and love abided in the home.
Pres. Hinckley said “It seems to me that the Savior is saying to each of us that unless we lose ourselves in the service of others, our lives are largely lived to no real purpose -- He who lives only unto himself withers and dies, while he who forgets himself in the service of others, blossoms in this life and in eternity.”
Count your Day Lost
If you sit down at the set of sun
And count the acts that you have don
And counting, find
One self denying deed, on word
That eased the heart of him that heard
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went –
Then you may count that day well spent.
But if through all the life long day
You’ve cheered no heart by yea or nay –
If through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face –
No act so small
That helped some soul and nothing cost
Then count that day as worse than lost.
By George Eliot
Just a poem to think on.
We know you do many things for others, as a Mother & Father you do so much for your family – teaching, guiding and proper example.
Pres. Monson says “giving, not getting, brings to full bloom the Christmas spirit.”
Pres. Faust says, “May we savor and perpetuate the Christmas traditions which express our endearment and love to each other.”
There is much good in the world as we think of Christmas and can all be grateful for the spirit that comes into our hearts, when we think a little less bitterness and hate. More of love and reaching out to those in trouble and need. We can do this throughout the year. We enjoy listening to the Christmas carols. Silent night – O’ Little Town of Bethlehem, Come all ye Faithful, Joy to the World, I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day, O Holy Night, Star Bright – just to mention a few.
We love you as our family and you have helped us in many ways – by giving as the Lord says “If Ye Love Me, keep my commandments”.
We have been blessed by all of your lives and may this be a Special Christmas for all of you. May the Christmas spirit stay shining brightly in your hearts.
We love you
Grandma & Grandpa
The Boat!
The Boat!
In the year 2000 Krista and Amy graduated from High School. The family and them were invited to a graduation party at Nick Madison’ s House. Well at their house they had kayaks, and Whitney and I have never been on them before. So we asked and they said we could go boating. Whitney and I took a different boat and started to really have fun. We stayed out in the water for 30 min. and then we decided to go back to the house. Later that day Whitney said she wanted to go out in the kayak again. I said it was fine with me if she tolled some adult like mom and dad. She did so she went out in the water. About 1 hour later I got this feeling to go look for Whitney. So I got to of my friends and went out in there other kayak. When we got around the corner we saw Whitney floating down the delta river crying, her ores were about to fall out of the boat and she was spinning around in circles floating down the river. When we got to her we talked and tolled her everything was going to be fine and took the string from her boat and tied it to be boat. We boated back and when we got around the corner, the Madison’ s figured out what was going on, got their big boat, and came and got us. When we got to their house we found out that Whitney was soaking wet and we explained everything to them. Then they gave us so cream puffs and other good food and we sat down and watched a movie with everyone else.
In the year 2000 Krista and Amy graduated from High School. The family and them were invited to a graduation party at Nick Madison’ s House. Well at their house they had kayaks, and Whitney and I have never been on them before. So we asked and they said we could go boating. Whitney and I took a different boat and started to really have fun. We stayed out in the water for 30 min. and then we decided to go back to the house. Later that day Whitney said she wanted to go out in the kayak again. I said it was fine with me if she tolled some adult like mom and dad. She did so she went out in the water. About 1 hour later I got this feeling to go look for Whitney. So I got to of my friends and went out in there other kayak. When we got around the corner we saw Whitney floating down the delta river crying, her ores were about to fall out of the boat and she was spinning around in circles floating down the river. When we got to her we talked and tolled her everything was going to be fine and took the string from her boat and tied it to be boat. We boated back and when we got around the corner, the Madison’ s figured out what was going on, got their big boat, and came and got us. When we got to their house we found out that Whitney was soaking wet and we explained everything to them. Then they gave us so cream puffs and other good food and we sat down and watched a movie with everyone else.
Everest
I’d like to tell you about the exploration about Everest. At first you climb Everest and you’re at 8,500 feet. Yeah. And it’s beautiful and you go higher and higher and higher and you finally get to 10,000 feet and keep going up and up and up. And finally you reach 12,000 feet. Whoa it is neat up there. Yeah. You stop and rest there. You continue on higher 13,500 and then 14,200 feet. Whoa. The air’s getting thinner and thinner and thinner as you go up. Finally you make it up to 14,400 and it’s hard to breath whoa whoa ho ho and then 15,000 feet. Yet you keep going higher and higher and higher approaching 16,000 feet. You go much much higher still – then 17,000 feet. You make it to Everest base camp. It’s like a junk yard with discarded oxygen bottles. It is now extremely hard to breath. You might get weak and dizzy and it would be almost impossible to focus. Then keep going higher at 18,500. Then at 19,400 feet and then you get so dizzy and weak that you could fall down and not be able to move at all. It’s nearly impossible to breath it’s o high up. Up there there’s nothing but snow. You better watch yourself. There might be deep holes (crevasses) that are hundreds of feet deep. You finally just try and make it down safely and then you will be fine. You climb so high up and it’s so very hard to breath. The air is unbelievably thin. And that’s my story.
(David William Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
(David William Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
Accident Prone
Accident Prone
t kicked off with a golf ball to the right ankle. My Junior year of pain that is. Yeah, I know, you’re probably thinking that it is my fault going golfing with a Fox boy and all because you know how they all are. Anyway so Tim Fox and I were golfing at the Brentwood golf course. Like my second time of golfing, and his FIRST time playing golf that didn’t’ involve miniature buildings and such. We were having a pretty good time. Tim had hit four into the street, “on accident,” and I had done fairly well. So we’re on the third hole, a par four. And I drive my ball more or less toward the green where it was supposed to go. Then Tim Steps up, and try to picture this. I was wearing sports sandals, you know, the kind you just slip your foot into leaving your poor ankles exposed like a magnet to the outside world (I could do this because I was an employee of the restaurant and I was allowed to “bend” the rules.) I was behind and to the right of him, what I thought was a reasonably safe distance. Then Tim decides that he wants to be like Happy Gilmore. So Tim takes a few steps back so that he could get a running start to his swing. He then proceeded to hit the ball and subsequently wonder where it had gone. He soon figured it out when, already, I was sitting on the grass hugging my poor purple and LARGE ankle. It wasn’t a pretty site. Anyway, like I said, I wasn’t thinking. I was, in fact, with a Fox boy and should have hidden behind a tree. So anyhow, I was carried into the restaurant where my ankle was elevated and covered in ice. It was bruised for over two years. Just recently it faded. So that’s #1.
#3 Well, late in my sophomore year I was elected to go to Girl’s State. And to be eligible to attend I had to have a Hepatitis B? Shot. Well, apparently reactions do, infrequently, occur. And our WONDERFULLY RETARDED Doctor never warned me to watch for symptoms of one of these reactions. So, incautiously, I proceeded to go to school. During second period while in jewelry, I was making a few rings and then, interestingly enough, was then in the office. I don’t remember anything in between. It seems that I had laid my head down near the flame I was working with, then made my way to the phone, I don’t remember whether or not I had called mom there, or in the office. Well, so I went home, and slept it off. Nothing too serious, but if my hair had caught on fire it would have been not so hot. That’s number three.
#4 Well, number four is simply a pinched nerve and a pulled muscle in my back. It happened during volleyball, I did go to see a chiropractor, it hurt, but no extravagant story to it. Except for the fact that I was present every match.
#5 Well, then I nearly tore my rotator cuff and was out of volleyball for quite some time. It hurt VERY badly and I had to go to the stupid a chiropractor guy a lot. #6 Aaron Somerhalder was practicing with our team and was being a stupid gay boy, you know, hitting hard and thinking that he was cool even though it was on a girl’s net. Well, I went up to block and it hit my finger wrong. It was odd, a wave of nausea swept over me, weird cause I didn’t think it was too big a deal. Well, my right palm was purple for a while.
#7 My lovable doggy died…OH SO SAD. Well, that is enough of that.
#8 Here goes the right ankle. During a match with Clayton Valley. It hurt. It swelled. It went away.
#9 Mike Ramaha, a good friend of mine “died.” Not really, it’s a long story I don’t care to go into detail with, but I was pretty sad again.
#10 Not quite my junior year, but Feb. of my senior year I was rear ended by some skanky paramedic who wooed the officer, stupid skanky skank. Anyhow, Meghan and I were in and out of chiropractor’s offices with whiplash for some time and missed lots of club. Oh well, that’s life I guess. We did get massages after all.
Monday, October 22, 2001
From the Beginning
From the Beginning
A guy with a beard acting mute
A big rafting trip
A slow river where not a boat did tip
A sniff of a rose
A number of cuts on the arms and one near the nose
Adventures underground where it’s dark
One where it rained from the very start
Climbing up and over a glowing green rock
A girl got hit smack dab in the sock
A boy in Santa Cruse with a notion
A bottle for a girl filled with the ocean
A bonfire that lit up the skies
Burnt hotdogs and smoke in her eyes
Potatoes launched up into the trees
Almost hitting some guy that nobody sees
A Hudson Thanksgiving dinner
A brother and sister who told’im he was a winner
A house built high in the trees
A little brother who hates to see her leave
A dinner of roasted muscles over coals
A sunset by the ocean where the cold wind blows
Ancient Elm trees getting cut and split
A sledgehammer to the hand that hurt just a bit
A trip down Vasco Road to some interesting caves
Supposed ruins from the Indians earlier days
A mistake that almost made their friendship dwindle
A burger and fry dinner over which to rekindle
A long drive to California and a short one to the creek
A question and a reply that made his knees weak
A wedding day for which to prepare
A happiness and joy beyond compare
A long drive to Oregon listening to tunes
A break to stop and play in some dunes
A beautiful temple-sealing day
A Denver snowstorm on the fourth of May
Again a very long trip they had to survive
And then in our new home we did arrive
A dizzing view atop a waterfall
Wishes once theirs but now ours we call
A stab from a leaf that she’d given a smack
In finding the culprit it bit her right back
A Sunday afternoon exploring ocean caves
A day too cold to play in the waves
A worried girl running for the train with the wind in her hair
A foot in the door with no time to spare
A visit to Brentwood, the homecoming trip
A stop by a river for a refreshing dip
At Great America they went on a ride/movie
For quite a while after they felt kinda woozy
A day spent looking at turned off fountains
After a morning spent in the waterfall mountains
A new apartment that doesn’t smell like trash
With a fire place that will soon be filled with ash
Enough Halloween candy to make an elephant sick
We still had some to pawn off on St. Nick
Thanksgiving dinner with a white fluffy cat
Turkey and stuffing and ice cream to bat
A Christmas a week before the actual date
Open them now says Sarah no reason to wait
A wonderful night lying by a crackling fire
Listening to Christmas music sung by a choir
Written for Sarah December 2001
My favorite person in the world
~ Aaron ~
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