Homestead memories...

The Homestead has meant so many things to us as a family. When we lived in Holbrook we spent a lot more time up there with the kids because it was only 1 ½ hrs away. I would take them up there and stay the week and Norm would come up on the weekend. It worked out so well and the kids loved it. Although it seemed like a quiet place with nothing to do when we arrived, the kids would bring it to life within minutes with their enthusiasm and love of the freedom of the outdoors and being at the Homestead. They would play in the woods, pick wild flowers, swing on the rope swing, do nature-based crafts, see wild life like deer and antelope and chipmunks and squirrels. Sometimes see blue jays and all kinds of birds that don’t live in the city. They would climb Sierra Trego, catch horny toads, carve their names on trees on the road to Greens Peak, go to the observatory at Greens Peak, climb down Greens Peak, go to Little Giant Springs, and always meet new cousins. It was always a treat when it had rained and there was a tiny stream running in the field between Grandpa’s cabin and the cultural hall. They would make tiny vessels of twigs to sail and race down the little trickle of water. Sometimes when Norm would come up on the weekend they would go fishing at Big Lake. About the time that Artie was born, we got a small motor home and would take it everywhere. It had a “insy” kitchen, a “teensy” bathroom, and would sleep the whole family. It was great to take on fishing trips to Big Lake. I would stay at the shore with the babies and watch them fish with binoculars off and on while I made breakfast for them. When it was ready, I would flash the lights and they would come in and eat. While I was cleaning up they would go back out and fish. I read and made crafts in the motor home and it felt so good knowing they were all having fun with their daddy. They always caught something it seems.

As the years went on and the kids got older, they have always enjoyed taking friends to the Homestead. Everyone they took loved it too. We had several “All Friends Day” and everyone would invite a couple of friends to come with us in the motor home. They would play in the pond and learn to swing on the rope swing. We’d pitch tents or build shelters and come back home after a couple of days of wearing everyone out on Greens Peak and all parts in between. Those were the best years...or so I thought until we had all these grandchildren and tripled the fun at the Homestead. It just thrills me to watch them and feel their love for this great place.

Grandpa [Art] Whiting wrote the letter included in this 'post'

Turning Points...Experiences that make a difference

**Commitment to be happy and make the best of my life’s circumstances

When I was 13 my sister, my friend and I were in a very serious car accident. My sister was home from college for the holidays and we were so excited to go Christmas shopping. As we went around a corner near our home, we saw a boy we both knew and I said, “Honk the horn, there’s Scott!” My sister looked off to see Scott and as I turned around there was a tree in front of us. There wasn’t time to do anything about it and we plowed into the tree. As a result, I went through the windshield. I don’t ever remember passing out. My sister saw my face and did…I leaned over my girlfriend to grab the mirror to see what was going on with all this blood pouring out of my face – I could see my teeth through the rip in my cheek and under my nose…in the meantime, she saw all the blood on her and cried, “I’m bleeding to death!!!” and promptly passed out. My sister would come to every once in awhile and take a look at me and pass out again, then my friend would wake up and look at the blood all over her and think she was bleeding to death and pass out again. I don’t know why, but it struck me funny. There was a crowd by now forming all around our totaled car and I couldn’t figure out why no one else could see the humor in this situation. When the ambulance came they laid me down in the back and we took the hysterical ride to the hospital with sirens and running lights – dodging cars and individuals. As we passed by the theater on University Ave., there were people lined up around the block for a blockbuster movie. I turned over towards the window and sat up on my elbow to see if I recognized anyone in the line. This started a chain reaction of pointing and horrified looks. Again, it struck me funny. I somehow knew everything would be fine.

After we arrived at the hospital there was a flurry of nurses and doctors hooking me up to machines and cleaning off the wounds and sewing up my face. It took over 250 stitches. (They were little ones) I looked pretty awful I guess because no one would let me see a mirror. There was a fear that the tissue in my lip wouldn’t live. I really didn’t realize what that even meant. For the next week it was touch and go…my upper lip was purple and didn’t show too much promise. I finally got to see a mirror – not good. I looked like Frankenstein’s daughter! Now came the moment of truth. My sister was driving the car and felt like she had ruined my life. Was I going to let her feel that kind of guilt or would I take responsibility for causing her to take her attention off the road. Try as I would, I never could convince Darlene that it really wasn’t her fault. I overheard my mother talking to my grandma and saying that if I didn’t want to go back to school she wasn’t going to make me. (That was tempting…)My grandmother told her that that might be a big mistake. She didn’t say more to mother about why, but grandma was wise and I later learned HOW wise.

I learned who my friends were. By the time I came home from the hospital my face was purple, green, and yellow, from the bruising. Because I wasn’t allowed to wash my hair, it was still full of dried blood after two weeks in intensive care, and all the delicate stitchery in my head and face. I looked very awful. I wasn’t allowed to laugh for fear of ripping the stitches above my lip…so I had to laugh like a ventriloquist without even moving my mouth or face. That alone was hilarious.

There was a boy down the street who was quite popular who came to visit me. It really was nice of him. Since it was around Christmas time, he decided to take me Christmas shopping to get me out of the house. Soon after we arrived at the mall, it was evident that I was really scaring little kids with my face. He could see that I was feeling a little upset about the reactions of all these people so he said he had a fun idea. He took me to the elevator in a large department store and we spent the rest of the night, until the stores closed, with me right in front of the opening on the doors. I just stood there stiff, staring way off as the elevator doors would open. No one rode the elevator all night and it was a serious Christmas shopping night – about 2 days before Christmas. I had to laugh with that silly 'no expression laugh’ when I was absolutely bursting inside.

I’ll never in my life forget that wonderful night. I learned to really laugh at myself and to never take life so seriously that I can’t make a hard situation fun. I’ve often looked back on the whole experience of that accident. I learned more from it than most experiences I’ve had in my life. An interesting comment was made by Farrell Lewis, ( head of the Family Psychology dept. at BYU and also my brother in law.) When Darlene and I stayed at their home for Womens Conference. he told me, “You may have been injured in that accident, but Darlene wears the scars.” That observation has caused me years of reflection. I hope Darlene realizes that I am truly grateful for the insights I gained through that whole experience, and still am learning.

Larry

Lest we forget… November 4, 2007
I’ve had many occasions lately to ‘remember’ the relatives who have past on to the next world. Haunted by the fact that maybe there is no one else TO remember them or pass their memory on to the next generations, I feel compelled by loving memories to write about them.

Larry – my brother… My memories of Larry are vivid and real. He was tall, about 6’2”, blonde…EXTREMELY blonde in the summer…even his eyebrows and leg & arm hair would bleach out in the sun…he was so tan that it would make his teeth look like they were under ‘black lights’ in the dark. He had a slender build and looked great in his wardrobe… ANYthing he wore. He had a great sense of humor…everyone loved him…he had so many friends who would come to visit all the time. I loved it. He had a piano in his room…a “rumpus room”. His room doubled for a family room…only it was his and his friends’ They would play jazz, sing, everything when they would get together. I remember it was a jam session all the time. I don’t remember Larry ever getting mad at me…except one time when he had come in late the night before and I woke him up ‘too early’ the next day. He was always very good and kind to me. He taught me the ‘jitter-bug’. After dinner he would take me into the front room and teach me new steps until we could dance together. There was 13 years between us. There was no competition, just a common bond. He also taught me how to play the ukulele. I learned that when I was 7 or 8. It brought me years of pleasure in entertaining, my alone hours, time with family & friends and now time with my Grandchildren.

Early in Larry’s life he was diagnosed with osteomyelitis , a bone disease. For therapy he would swim daily. They had him in a convalescent home for quite awhile. It affected his legs. As he grew up he continued to swim. He was a wonderful swimmer and played water polo on his high-school team. Naturally he was the star player on his squad. I remember going to those games with mother many times. Another time I remember going to Lake Shasta where he swam the length of the Lake. He loved to snow and water ski too and was quite expert in them as well. He was what his friends called a “Hot-dogger” when snow skiing. I didn’t understand what that meant until a couple of years later when I started skiing and saw for myself…with other skiers.

Larry decided to go to law school and went to college nearby at Cal. He lived in an 'A' framed, 'modern' house on the side of a hill with a bunch of guys. Two of his room-mates were returned Mormon Missionaries. They had taught him about the church and he had wanted to be baptized. I remember one weekend he came home and mother and he had quite an argument about it. She had said that his grandparents would disown him if he joined the Mormon Church and they were paying for his education in college and he needed to really think about that decision. I guess he did, because he never was baptized.

Larry married Lynne Williams when she was around 18 years old and he was maybe 20. They were so young. She was the daughter of the wealthy mayor of Redding, California and Larry was completely spoiled by his grandparents, so both of them were pretty used to having everything given to them and were in for some hard times learning about what marriage meant.

They lived first at the Hjertager saw mill in Yreka, in the same little house Mom & Heine lived in when they first were married. He worked at the saw mill prior to going back to school at the University of California at Berkley.

Once back to school, they moved into a comfortable little apartment and seemed to be quite happy when we went to visit. Little by little we did start to notice the strain between them and soon after decided to divorce. I loved Lynne. So did Larry. They just were too young to know what they were doing I guess.

I'm not sure if Larry was drafted or he just joined the Army, but the next thing I remember he was IN the Army and stationed at Ft. Ord ready to go to Germany. We went as a family up to Ft. Ord to visit him before he left. It was overcast and a rather dreary day. We drove to a hamburger place on base and he got out to go get food with Dad. He wouldn't let any of the "girls" out of the car. He made us all stay in until they brought it back. He said the troops were all "women starved" and he didn't want them looking at any of us. Mind you, I was 10...so I really didn't understand much, but somehow it made me feel special in his eyes.

Months went by and letters went back and forth. It was exciting every time a letter would come from him. Then came the day when a telegram came. It was from Germany. Mom was in Mt. View at 'the court' they owned where Grandpa Koehler lived. I knew she wouldn't be home soon because she was collecting rent there. The suspense of the telegram was tough. I was sure that Larry was sending something to us that would be fun news. Telegrams were always important information being sent. They were expensive and every word cost a certain amount of money. Darlene and I were the only ones home and she thought we ought to wait until Mom came home. I wasn't convinced. I was more curious than all that, and besides,"what could it hurt to open it?" I was 11 and was big enough to take matters into my own hands. I went into Dad's bathroom, and locked the door. I opened the envelope carefully so Darlene couldn't hear me and began reading..."It is to our deepest regret, that your son, Lawrence J. Hjertager, has drowned due to a heart attack in Korsor Germany, July 6th... There were more words, but I didn't read them...all I could do was scream and cry. My stomach was paralized and a knot formed there that wouldn't leave for months. Darlene came immediately and we both became two very hysterical little girls. We called Grandpa and told him and he even cried. We all decided that it would be best if Mom didn't know until she came home, so he said he wouldn't tell her. We were afraid she would have an accident on her way home if she knew...but Grandpa wouldn't be able to keep anything like that from Mother. When Mom came home it was like a terrible nightmare had convened. A never ending lump in my throat with all of us involved. One sketchy memory after another. The day his body arrived and the viewing...not looking like him...the limmo to the funeral...my dark, plaid dress with tear marks all over it...another memorial in Yreka, Grandma Hjertager's house and the friend who was with him when he died, Lynne and her puffy face from crying, the Lieutenant who brought his body back and the pall bearers...a letter Grandma Koehler received from him a month after he had died...a little Dutch porcelain shoe he had sent to Mother days before he had died... so many things...it's all a blur and part of an amazing unfolding over the years. How he had influenced me... I would miss him terribly. There are times when the knot returns and stays for hours even now. Mother tried to be brave for all of us. She always was and I don't know how.

Mother seemed to be "Anti-Mormon" by faith, and so when the Mormon Missionaries came by when we lived there on Del Norte, I was surprised to find them in our living room when I came home from school one day, a couple of years later. I was shocked as I peered in as one of them looked for all the world like Larry. It was a gift to Mother.

She spent a lot of time studying and actually trying to prove them wrong. She was quite an intelligent woman and eventually exhausted all of her sources of qualms, rendering herself completely helpless in her arguments. She finally decided to pray for an answer and received a meaningful testimony of the Book of Mormon and all of the things the missionaries had taught her. She had been smoking 2 packs of cigarettes and drinking several cups of coffee a day. She had tried to quit several times before but with her new faith, she was able to finally quit for good. It was virtually amazing to all of us.

In the beginning...

Hi!

I guess this is easier than I thought! My girls keep saying I need to 'blog' for my grandkiddos at least, so I suppose that's what I'll do. At first, I think I'll blog about 'turning points' and 'lessons learned'.

Maybe some of the grandkiddos ought to have a 'blog' so I can see what they're up to from their prospective...at least the ones that could, like the older children 6 and up...??? That would be fun to see what's in their minds at this age.

Today I taught again the Gospel Doctrine class in our ward. I've had this calling for a couple of years and from the first day I ever taught, I felt the overwhelming inadaquacy of my preparation no matter how much studying I might have done. I had never really studied the Old Testament, but found myself teaching it. It turned out to be one of the most wonderful of all my callings in the church. It's forced me to study in depth the Old Testament and I've learned to love it. This year we've been studying the New Testament and I have learned to love it too. It always seemed to be so over my head to study too much in the Bible, maybe because I was never encouraged to do it before I was baptized when I was in the Catholic Church. There was always the idea that no one but the 'higher ups' could figure out what the prophets were trying to say...so trust them, and they will let us know what that is. Anyway, an incredible world has opened up to me and I am so grateful for this calling. Believe me, I thought they had the wrong girl when they asked me to do it 2 years ago. I'm finding that the Lord blesses me every time I teach to be able to understand what I should from the lesson material. Every calling I've ever had, I feel inadequate at first and I've learned to just trust that there is a reason for the calling and that reason eventually shows itself. I learned a very valuable lesson. When I was a fairly new member of the church and at BYU, I was asked to be the secretary in Young Womens. I told them I didn't know anything about doing that and I turned them down. Later when I was on my mission in Texas and was transferred to the Mission Office, the girl I replaced told me that the one calling she had before her mission that helped her the most in the Mission Office was being secretary in Young Womens. It was a struggle for me in the Mission Office for awhile. All of the records for every organization in the church in every stake came through the mission office and I had to record them and keep track of them and send them to SLC. Needless to say, I never turned down a calling again. The Lord knows the preparation you'll need for every station in life and makes that possible wherever He can. Lesson learned.