Viola Jones Taylor 1921-1981

I have an amazing mother. I could NOT live without her. In addition to joyfully providing daycare for my daughter(s) when needed (basically DAILY) she's there to listen to me vent my frustrations, bail me out of jams, calm me down and bear me up when I hit break down mode, and all-in-all just be one of my best friends.

And you've also seen me talk about my beloved Gma aka "Famous Grandma" who I have the blessing of living next door to.

But lately, I've been thinking a lot about my other Gma, My Gma Taylor.



My Dad's mom died when I was only 2 1/2 yrs old. So I don't really have any memories of her. Unless you count this vague recollection I have of the sound of her voice, which I don't know how much is my own creation and how much is really her. I just know that there have been times in my life when I've needed an extra angel, and its been that voice that I've heard, connected with an innate knowledge that it was her.

What I do have are stories of her, told to me (or overheard) from her sister, my dad, and his siblings. In all the stories I've heard over the last 30 years, I've never heard anything negative about her. So you can imagine how she could have become an idol in my eyes. The older I get, the more I know in my head that she couldn't have been perfect either, nonetheless, my appreciation for just how incredible she truly must have been only seems to grow with my age and wisdom.

Growing up, my sister and I yearned for our own rooms, and Dad would always remind us about how he shared a room with 3 of his brothers, and there was barely room to walk between the two sets of bunk beds. (It's true, we saw that with our own eyes.)

Now as my own kids have the same complaint, or whenever I start to feel the walls closing in on me in our 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom, 5 occupant apartment, its not my dad I think about, cramped in with his brothers, its Gma. Sure, she got the nice big room, mostly to herself (since Gpa often worked graves and liked the darker room/office next door), but she had 8 kids running underfoot. 8 kids in 2 bedrooms, and only 1 bathroom for the 10 of them. How in the world did she keep from going crazy!!!!!

I would love to ask her how in the world she found time to do all that she did. If 8 kids weren't enough to keep a mother busy, she worked outside the home to help provide. And somehow, she still managed to bake bread for the family each week, paint, crochet, create other crafty items, and bottle fruit.

So much fruit, in fact, that I remember mom and dad opening up bottles of her fruit for us to eat for dinner on hot summer nights for many years after Gma had died. And she did it all without modern luxuries such as wrinkle-free fabrics (ironing sheets...what were they thinking?)

Truly amazing!

But in addition to all that, She also had Gpa.

I love my Gpa.

Gpa died just before my 9th birthday, my memories have the luxury of that innocent childhood filter on them. What I remember was that Gpa was STRONG. The grip of his handshake was legendary. And he loved to put his grandchildren on his lap and hold them. He had really bony legs, so it was really uncomfortable, and we were anxious to get down and play. But he'd hold us there, and at times get downright grumpy about it. I'd give about anything to go back and 'endure' that time to hear more of his stories. After you'd been on one leg for a while (and squirmed a lot), you'd just start thinking you were finally going to escape, but he'd just switch you to the other side, proclaiming that was his 'bad' leg. (Though I swear he was moving me to his bad leg, not the other way around).

I also knew that Gpa had seizures. I knew he took medicine for them. But I don't recall ever witnessing one.

I knew Gpa couldn't drive. Despite making a living as a mechanic, he didn't own a car. He got around on an adult-sized tricycle with a basket on the back that made me quite jealous.

Gpa lost his leg, not long after he and Gma were married, when a heavily-loaded freight train ran over it at the local steel plant. I never considered my gpa to be disabled. He got around just fine on his prosthetic. (never saw him run on it, but I think I contributed that to his age more than his ability, if I even thought about it at all.) After all, I was little, I couldn't drive either, my main source of 'independent' transportation was also a bike.

What I've realized more and more lately are all the gaps in the stories I've heard about Gma. The stories I've gotten from her sister largely cover her growing-up years, right on through Gma and Gpa's courtship, the roll-over they were in while they were dating, how she visited him often during the long months he was in the hospital. How she later went to Nevada to help another sibling for a few months, and she and Gpa would write back and forth. Gpa being the great wordsmith he was (which I wonder now how much was him and how much the injury/recovery) would write these "lengthy" letters something to the effect of:

Dear Vi,

Hope all is well

George

And then the stories kind of skip until the point when her children were old enough to remember/realize things.

I can fill in the timeline. I know Gpa was supposed to be reporting to the draftboard the week he lost his leg, and that it would have been about the time Gma was pregnant with their oldest. I knew their house was built somewhere in that timeframe. But that's about it.

I wonder now, how she would have coped with the loss of Gpa's leg. How hard that must of been on him, sure, but her too. She'd met, and fallen in love with, this handsome curly haired boy at a dance in the hall near her home. Did she ever mourn the loss of his leg and all that meant, or could have meant, for them, and her personally, or was she just too glad to even have him alive to think beyond that?

If she had mourned the loss, or ever resented the life she led, would she have ever let anyone know? Or would she have kept those feelings all locked up inside? Did she resent being the one that had to drive the family around, during a time when most women didn't drive?

Did she see Gpa as disabled? Or was she bothered by others who did?

As science discovers more and more about Traumatic Brain Injuries, it becomes more and more apparent that TBIs probably caused Gpa's seizures, and that his seizures probably weren't the only symptoms he experienced. The more I learn about TBIs, the more saintly Gma becomes in my mind, if that's possible.

But how did she handle that? Did she realize what caused Gpa to be the way he was? Did she long for that handsome curly haired boy? Or did he never leave her? Did she just see through everything else to that diamond? Or did she ever cry herself to sleep at night?

For better or worse, she stood by her husband for 39 years. From the time she met him, when she was still in High School, until the time she died, he was her sweetheart. That alone should speak volumes.

In Memory-Two Years

I needed to take a minute to post this one, for me.

It's been two years now since my Gpa Shields passed away. I won't bore you by repeating stories or pictures I've put up here before. If you really want to see, you can revisit old posts such as Mixed Blessings

Sometimes it feels like its been ages, other times it's impossible to believe that it's been so long. I go to Gma's house several times a day, and yet there are still times I find myself expecting to see him there, expecting to hear his laugh, and feel his strength. I wish I could hear more of his counsel, wish I could see him hold JJ and tease Steven, the way I know he would have before his health was so bad. In fact, I think he and Steven are a lot alike, they would have been really good friends I'm sure. I look forward to seeing the bond between them in the next life.

As much as I miss him, and wish he was here, I'm still happy he's free not only of the physical pain of mortality, but the emotional as well. I would've hated to see him have to witness Gma's chemo from this side of the veil. He approached every problem, every trial with laughter, but he would have had a hard time laughing through this one.

This song has been stuck in my head lately and seems quite fitting.

Sometimes a song can touch a nerve
That takes me back to you
When I pick up my old guitar
And I play your favorite tune
Every now and then, some little thing
I've buried comes bubblin' up
And once in a while, you feel close enough to touch

I miss you a little since you've been gone
A few little memories keep hangin' on
I miss you a little, I guess you could say
A little too much, a little too often
A little more every day

When I go by our old house
I pretend that you're still there
Waitin' for me on the porch
But there's just an empty chair
Wish I could see you just one more time
Before I drive away
So I could stop and go inside, and say

I miss you a little since you've been gone
A few little memories keep hangin' on
I miss you a little, I guess you could say
A little too much, a little too often
A little more every day
A little too much, a little too often
A little more every day

My Famous Grandma

A neighbor came by to visit my gma the other day, while I was there, she filled him in on the latest news and he responded "Well it looks like you might be getting your 15 min of fame" and further implied that it was her once chance to do so.

It took everything in my power to keep from bursting out laughing, as much from shock and disbelief as from humor. Gma was a newspaper corespondent (and photographer) for over 40 years. She's covered everything from the mundane happenings at the local elementary schools (not to mention the school board meetings for those schools) and new bishoprics being called (there was a time, not that long ago, when such a thing warranted a picture in the paper), to Ron Lafferty and the Osmonds as the started this new celebration they called "Stadium of Fire." (I had no idea who the Osmonds were at that time, other than they were supposedly famous, and the 'Next Generation' who were also a big deal that year, were just a bit older than me and kinda cute even if I was too young for that kind of thing).

In addition to having thousands of bylines over the years, she's had multiple articles published in books, and assisted one of her dearest friends to complete "The History of American Fork."

If she goes anywhere within city limits and doesn't know at least half the people, she figures there's something wrong. (unless of course it's WalMart, then she'll only know a half dozen people). Her experiences have allowed her to 'rub shoulders' with the local fame as well, from former mayors and other outstanding citizens of the community, to local newsman of tv fame, and even Smokey the Bear! ;)

And if that wasn't enough, she managed to get another "15 minutes" a little over 30 years ago, when she survived being hit by a train. (The article held a prominent position in my baby book.)

Gma also survived Polio when she was younger, 'enjoying' an extended stay at Primary Children's Hospital, and later leaving her a perfect candidate to appear on tv as part of PCMC's annual telethons.

For a long time I was better known as "Ann (Annie)'s granddaughter" than I was by my own name. As a teenager struggling to form my own identity, that was purely torturous, but now....it's not so bad.

But the coolest part, isn't the fame, or even the experiences that's had along her journey, it's the love that all those people have for her. And the fact that all her 'fame' never kept her from being just this small town girl who valued her family and friends above all.

As I watch her phone often ring off the hook with old neighbors calling to check up on her, nieces and nephews calling to check on her, even driving hundreds of miles just to take her out to lunch, I can't help but wonder if our society has gotten away from that now? Sure, the internet has made it possible for people clear across the world to talk as easily as if they were over the fence from one another. But have we lost that "over the fence" feel? We definitely don't need to depend on our neighbors quite the way they used to, and tv and video games (not to mention air conditioning) and whatever have taken us inside, and away from those summer evenings out on the porch visiting with whoever strolled by. It will be interesting to see in 40-50 years just what society has become.

In the meantime, I'm glad I have my famous grandma serving as an example to me.

Bytheway, her latest bout with fame: her 40+ yr old pine tree that she received from the forest service after doing a story for them, and promptly planted in her yard, which has now taken over her yard and towers over her house at over double the height of said house, and which terrifies her every big storm as she's sure it's going to come down and take out said house, has been selected by Gateway Mall for use as their Christmas tree this year. In return, they're not only cutting it down for her, but removing the stump, and re landscaping the area. They say they've never had a tree that big before so it's proven quite a challenge.

Despite the relief it will bring next time it storms, Gma is understandably having a hard time letting it go. Personally, the thing has never been the same since they had to cut off the bottom branches which were obstructing the view of the driveway, but provided a great place for us to play tag. (Yes, we were simple children who delighted in running circles around a pine tree and trying to guess where exactly on the other side our companion was). I'm also curious to see how many more bird's nests fall out of it. It loses, on average, a couple a year, but I have no doubt there are many, many more still in its branches.

Making History?

I love historical fiction books. And I don't mean those steamy romances where the characters supposedly lived 300+ years ago. No. I like the ones where the authors take a historically significant event, or time period, and toss in fictional characters in such a way that you're transported back in time, and history comes alive.

While I promise I haven't been one of those "If they don't sell it at Deseret Book, I don't read it" people in years, LDS Authors do seem to have a knack for the genre, or at least for appealing to my tastes.

As a teenager, I fell in love with Chris Heimindinger's adventures in Book of Mormon times.

The Church History tour I took after graduation, made Gerald Lund's famous series on the early church especially poignant.

I later fell in love with Dean Hughes's WWII series, then Jerry Borrowman's books on WWI and WWII.

Most recently I've returned to Dean Hughes's books, this time, it's the next generation, covering the 1960's and 1970's, the Berlin Wall going up, the Vietnam War, The Civil Rights Movement, the Feminist Movement, etc. They're wonderful books, and they've got me thinking. Not only about that time period, but about our own.

Basically, the focus of his first series covered my grandparents' generation, this second set covers my parents' generation. So it would seem that if he did a third series, it would be about my generation. But I think through all the historically significant events I've seen occur in my lifetime, and while there's no discounting the importance of some of them, or of the wars we've seen battled, I still wonder if any of them would be enough to warrant our own series. Would future generations want to pick it up to learn about what we've experienced? To learn about the 9-11 and the War on Terror? What, maybe the gay rights movement?

Of course we learn and grow from history. By studying the pioneers we see their faith, their endurance, their dedication and their sacrifice, and somehow our trials seem easier to bear. And since most of my ancestry came across the plains, I gain insights into their own lives as well.

I get the same from studying other modern eras. I learn what my ancestors went through. I already received a strong sense of patriotism from both my grandfathers, but reading more about what they endured, or what my great grandparents went through in WWI...its very humbling and yet very pride provoking.

Reading these books now...I feel this sense of joy and gratitude at how far we've come. Sure, we still have a ways to go before we have a perfect world and before racism or so many of the other problems are abolished. I wonder where we would be if those in that generation had not chosen to stand-up the way they did.

What do you think? If you were to write a book about our time, what would it include? What things will our generation be known for generations from now? What will be our Legacy?

Do you KNOW your Guardian Angels?

“It remains the responsibility of each individual to know his kindred dead. … Even if the [temple] work is done, then it is still each person’s responsibility to study and become acquainted with his ancestors.” President Joseph Fielding Smith quoted in Hearts Turned to the Fathers: A History of the Genealogical Society of Utah, 1894–1994 (1995), 184.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. We talk a lot, in the church, of it being our responsibility to do the temple work for our ancestors, and what great importance that is. And don't get me wrong, I fully support that.

But I hear so many people use the excuse that "all my work's been done" but there's just something they're missing.

Ok, I've been guilty of similar, I spend much more time on everyone else's work than on mine own because mine has way too many people working on it and it's a big overwhelmingly jumbled mess, but maybe that's why I've been thinking about that "something else" that other reason why we do family history, to get to know our ancestors (and in many ways, ourselves).

One of my favorite songs is "Guardian Angels" by The Judds. They originally released the tune in 1989, but it was nearly 10 years later when I heard it for the first time. I can still tell you the exact spot I was at when it came on the radio, before it was done I was headed to the music store to get my own copy.

I'll let you google the lyrics if you want them, but basically it talks about her great grandparents, who she knows well "from the stories my dear gma tells." It of course refers to them as her guardian angels and tells how when she's going through tough times, they are with her, encouraging her along.

At the time, I too was going through a difficult time in my life, and as I heard those words, somehow I knew it was true, that my own paternal grandparents, both deceased from my childhood, were there with me, watching over me, and trying to help me along.

I was blessed to have many more years with maternal grandparents, so I know them even better personally. Since Gpa died 6 months ago, I can't even begin to tell you the number of times I've felt him with me.

Often times it's in humorous ways, like on Memorial Day when I was cleaning out gma's flower bed and found his garden decor skunk, long forgotten, hidden behind a tree that's now much larger than it had been when the decor was placed there. I couldn't tell what it was at first so I jumped back a bit, expecting a live animal to come running out at me, and I could hear Gpa laughing that after all these years, he'd made me jump again.

Or like the other day, when I walked outside Gma's house after a monsoon and found that a very large redwood plank had floated down the ditch and stopped right in front of Gma's house. Gma said Gpa did it so I'd know he wasn't lying about all the things he'd found "floating down the ditch." But I'm still convinced that very few of those items were really found there.

Sometimes it borders on frustration, like when I went to take an electric hedge trimmer to some of his beautiful roses. I knew he'd be rolling over in his grave, and sure enough, would you believe, my hedge trimmer wouldn't cut through a single thing until Gpa and I had a "talkin' to." I assured him that I knew this was not the way he'd want it done but with everything else I had to do, if this was going to get done at all, it had to be done this way. Once that was settled, would you believe the trimmer actually worked better than it ever has! I'm always pulling the cord out a dozen times when I try to use that thing, but it didn't come out a single time while doing gpa's roses.

But most the time, it's just that strong, gentle hand of his that I feel, giving me silent encouragement and the strength to do what's necessary day by day.

I have no doubt that I have many ancestors who take their turn as my guardian angels. But it's my grandparents that I know best, so it's my grandparents that I can recognize as being with me.

So what if I knew my other ancestors better?

I know that I get my handshake from my Gpa Taylor, and when those hands refuse to be idle, that comes from Gma Taylor, My sweet tooth from Gpa Shields, and my love of reading, well that's been passed down at least from my mom and Gma Shields. But recently I learned that my Great-Gma Nielsen had a love of plants and gardening, and had quite the green thumb. So now I can't plant without thinking about her and wondering about her (wishing I could 'channel' her wisdom).

I'm fully aware that gardening is the most common hobby in the United States, so statistically, it shouldn't be all that hard to find someone that shares that trait, even in your ancestry. Still, there is something empowering in knowing someone you descended from had that same interest/skill.

So while I would never want to challenge a prophet or change his words, I must say "responsibility...to know their kindred dead" almost seems to harsh. I would say it's the JOY of every individual to know their kindred dead.

Have you researched an ancestor today?

Journey to the Past

I LOVE the new Church History Library!

Wow!

I had the opportunity to tour it today for the first time. We were told the tours would be about 45 min. But when we arrived, they were more-or-less self-guided. There were so many people that I didn't bother to stop and examine a lot of things the way I would have liked, and just sped-read a lot of the signs and information they had up. Despite "rushing" through, I was still in there for an hour and a half.

It's a gorgeous building and much more "user-friendly" and accessible than their old home in the East Wing of the Church Office Building. They had put up a bunch of signs with "fun facts" that I'd like to see published somewhere. Some were more historical facts like the various ways that land had been used in the past, but most were fun facts such as how many carpet squares there were in the building, or the fact that you could fit 31.5 million ice cream sandwiches on the shelves of the archival freezers. (They have 12 archival rooms, 10 of which are kept at 55*F and 2 of which are kept at -4*F...the colder temperatures preserve the documents better).

They had a lot of artwork scattered throughout the building, pieces not really seen before. Of course most of it was in the office space, so most of us still won't be able to enjoy it on a regular basis. Though they do have several documents displayed in cases for all to enjoy.

But the most memorable thing, I think, was the amazing spirit there. They showed an orientation film where the catchphrase was "The Story Lives Here" I can't think of a more befitting line to sum up the purpose of the building. Someone along the way said that their mission was to record (/store) the building up of the church and its members. The artifacts they have, the stories they tell...all are extremely sacred, and tell of testimony and sacrifice and great faith.

And with continuing efforts to digitize much of their collection, it's actually accessible to us! What a tremendous blessing!

Top reasons Genealogists love funerals

I don't know which is the bigger shame, that it takes a funeral for these things to come about, or the fact that there was too much else to deal with the last couple of days, including my own emotions, to fully appreciate and take advantage of the goldmines.

5. Long Lost relatives
I finally got to meet several of my grandma's cousins. Unfortunately I probably won't remember most of them, but the good news is, there is talk of putting together a family reunion and I did get some phone numbers and e-mail addresses.

4. Future reunions
Ironically enough, the last several family funerals I've attended have resulted in family reunions being planned. Usually because people decide they'd rather not wait for another funeral to see one another.

3. Funeral Programs
Grandpa had a suit coat that we called his funeral coat, since that was about the only time he ever wore that particular coat and he wore it to nearly every funeral he attended. At every funeral he would pick up a program, and eventually it would find its way into his pocket. Grandpa never took them out of his pocket. Eventually grandma would intercede and remove the large stacks, and most would get moved to "the case" a small brief case where grandma stored such things.

This week, we pulled out "the case" so gma could look at other funeral programs in order to decide how she wanted gpa's done. What a wealth of genealogical information. All these names and dates, and occasionally locations. And most of them contained lists of descendants, and their relationships.

One in particular caught my eye. A simple design, with a temple graphic on the cover. Opening it up unleashed a power that's beyond words. The sacredness of this document overwhelmed me. And I could only view it with reverence and respect. And in doing so, I discovered that this was the funeral program for my father's mother, my other grandma, who passed away when I was only 2 years old.

This is what critics of genealogy and genealogists don't understand. To them, these documents are just pieces of paper. They are names and dates of people long since past, they have no relevance to them today. They don't understand. They don't get that these are real people, that while their time on this earth is gone, their spirits live on. They haven't felt that connection, or enjoyed the strength, the comfort, the joy that comes in feeling that connection. They don't understand...

2. Now it comes out

Grandpa was a Veteran of WWII. Most of the things he saw horrified him to the point that he refused to talk about it. But when I was in the sixth grade, I had to do an oral report on Germany. Since Grandpa had been to Germany and had some 'souvenirs' from his time there, he broke down and helped. He pulled out one small trunk, mostly with tapestries and other cloth items. So while the stories still did not deal really with the war, but rather than country itself, I had at least seen this small trunk.

Grandma needed his discharge papers in order for Gpa to get the military honors. Only she had no idea where they were. She thought of one place they might be, but when we investigated, we found in that location, only my great-grandfather's discharge papers.

Then out of nowhere I had a memory of seeing discharge papers when gpa had pulled out that trunk for me. Amazing that I would even recall that after nearly 18 years, especially when I hadn't thought about it any other time during those years. But we made an excursion to find the trunk and check it out.

Like gma, I was half-right. the spot held discharge papers, but they belonged to gpa's brother, not gpa. But the really amazing thing, were the other trunks that were found with that one. Small trunks, but they were full of old letters and pictures (of course not labeled, but many of them were of famous landmarks so we still got some sort of 'diary' of his journeys at least). I look forward to going through them all in the coming weeks and months.

1. Cemetery time that doesn't creep others out
:) I don't know, it sounded good, since most people avoid cemetery's whenever possible, but we spend our lives searching them out.

But as long as we're on the topic. Let me give a HUGE shout-out to our Veterans. In particular the Honor Guard of VFW Post 4918. They performed the military rites for gpa. It was incredibly touching. Of course at least some of the honor guard members were friends with gma, gma has friends everywhere she goes. So after they completed the official presentation and he handed over the flag, the veteran was also able to share a more personal moment with gma.

But as for MY personal experience, I knew gpa would have the military rites. I've never witnessed the military rites in person, but I was still prepared for the 21 gun salute, and for the flag ceremony. What I was not prepared for was seeing the helmet on top of the rifle. Gpa's plot is near the road, and of course we've had a lot of snow lately, so there are some large snow banks where the roads have been plowed. The added effect of the pile of snow placed extra emphasis on the message of the rifle. I had hoped to get a picture of it afterwards, but they took it down too quickly. But still, the picture of the rifle protruding out of that deep snow, topped by the helmet, will forever be etched in my mind.

If anyone knows where I can get a picture similar to that, with or without the snow, please let me know. I know there's a name for it, but I can't recall it at the moment. Consequently, I'm not having any luck searching for a pic either.