These past two months have passed so quickly that it is difficult to remember specific details (you’re mouthing “hurray—a short letter!?”). John and I have been able to sleep in our bed each night while the world—at least many of you—have come to share your goodness with us.
After Adam and Kaylyn left with their brood on June 5th, we spent the balance of the month tackling yard and pool projects, pumping the septic tank and helping our friend Beverly Johnson move from her one room “apartment” in the motor court on Highway 40. The building had been without electricity since March, and most of the units were filthy and lacked running water. Many of the residents abused drugs. (You can imagine the environment at The Vista Grande). The Wasatch County Health Department finally condemned the facility in June and the residents had two weeks to relocate. Most, like Beverly, are without steady employment, have no stable extended family to help them, and really don’t have the resources to move. We helped Beverly redistribute her seventeen cats, store her excess belongings, fix up her car, and after threats of jail time from the local sheriff’s deputies if she refused to leave, convinced her to move to Kamas and share an apartment with her son. She went, kicking and screaming—literally! She was sure we were ruining her life. Two weeks ago, she called to apologize and to tell me she has a job working as a cook at Dick’s Drive-In in Kamas. She sounds happy and is grateful for the changes in her life.
I have thought about my own stubbornness and tendency to resist change. Sometimes, I don’t like the way things are but either don’t know what to do to change my circumstances for the better or I don’t know how to make the needed changes. It’s difficult to recognize and acknowledge weakness; my pride is dinged when others can see what I cannot. I certainly don’t welcome someone else weighing in with advice, and my initial prideful reaction is to reject the observations and suggestions of others. I struggle to be humble and teachable!
Paulette, it was a privilege to join you in the Salt Lake Temple the morning you received your own endowment in preparation for your mission to Arizona. You are more beautiful every time I see you! Thank you for including me.
The July Barrus Family reunion was absolutely perfect this year. Thank you, Jean, David, Chris and Rob for beautifully planned activities, and for the great t-shirts! I loved everything about the week and particularly enjoyed the opportunity to journey to Grantsville and Tooele in teams to extract information about our ancestors. I felt especially close that day to each of you, to Grandpa and Grandma Barrus, to all of our forefathers and mothers. I felt their presence in the cemetery and as we gathered ‘round the campfire to sing of our love for one another. I enjoyed visiting “This is The Place” State Park, not so much for the activities there, but for the chance to be connected to our ancestors by tasting pioneer life with all of you. Susan, Curt, Julie and Ann, the food was superb—“delish/nutrish” as John says. Thank you for the hundreds of hours spent in pre-reunion preparation and for being so organized. (I’m still waiting for you to publish the recipes, Susan). Ruth and Emma, thank you for the horse wrangling and taming so that each child could have a good experience aboard our frisky equines! I was the “slacker” this year, providing only a clean bedroll and shower rag for each who stayed at the Olson Bunkhouse, and truth be told, grateful the toilet plunger was never called for! Thank you to each person who attended the reunion and contributed his or her personal goodness. I am humbled to be part of such a group of talented, GOOD people. You each bless my life!
The Olson boys’ Wilderness Trip overlapped the reunion by a few hours, as Scott and Ben arrived on Friday night the 12th. I was grateful John lost the key to the truck and didn’t leave for Idaho Friday night as he had planned. Driving north at highway speeds on Interstate 15 Saturday morning, the tread separated from the two front tires, caused significant damage to the front end of the truck and required John to purchase a new set of tires before leaving Tremonton to meet J.C. If he had been driving at night with little sleep, John may have been seriously injured as well. The rest of the week was uneventful for my men, and when they returned from the wilds, I enjoyed a long weekend with Scott and Ben before delivering them to the airport on Monday morning the 22nd.
Bruce and Jean’s generosity allowed me to enjoy the Days of ’47 Concert at the Conference Center on the 19th—an evening of beautiful and stirring music. I received a speeding ticket on I-80E as I drove home—going 70 in a 65 mile per hour zone. (Who knew the little convertible was capable of such acceleration on the Parley’s Canyon incline!). Another ticket from Bruce and Jean allowed me to attend the Days of ’47 Rodeo in Salt Lake the next Monday night. I have loved rodeos since I was a girl and we attended the Tooele Rodeo with Grandpa and Grandma Clark in the summers. This year’s was especially enjoyable, because it was “just” rodeo—no motorcyclist “half-time show”, and the clown was funny with fresh, not-too-coarse humor.
Dave and Nicole and crew arrived the next day, and their request to “stay put” was easy to grant. With the batteries charged, the Gator and Jeep provided hours of entertainment. I saddled up Lucky one morning and holding the lead rope, ran around the paddock for forty-five minutes so each child could have a chance to “gallop, Mimi!” And they rode on the sprinkler wheel line while I changed the irrigation water. We purchased sparklers and minor fireworks and put on our own show one evening, bought milkshakes at Dairy Keen, raced down the road at breakneck speed on the ATV and decorated the drive pad with chalk art. We read books and watched a movie. On the last morning, we fashioned paper dolls and airplanes and decorated them with glitter, pearls and markers. Heaven!
I’m out of paper…Love to each!
Aunt Carole and Uncle Johnny
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