Unexpected Reaction

On Thursday, we left Grand Junction, Colorado on our way to Centerville, Utah to see our niece, Carrie, and her family. That morning, I realized that we’d be passing close to Spring City Utah, where my grandfather was born and where his family lived.

I went on to Ancestry.com to verify the city and discovered that a distant cousin had recently posted photos of the local cemetery and the headstones of my great-great grandparents. (There are 39 cemeteries in Sanpete County, so without this information, it would have been nearly impossible to locate them.)

I contacted him through Ancestry.com to see if he knew where the family home was located since I have a drawing of it from about thirty years ago. He answered back while we were on the road to say that he had no idea, but wished us well in our search.

Since it would be only about a fifteen-minute detour to go into Spring City, Larry agreed that we should make the trip. I had absolutely no expectations about what we would find there, but I definitely felt a strong impulse to make the pilgrimage.

I’d always known that my dad’s family was one of the Mormon pioneer families who settled Utah. About twenty years ago, my aunt Mary Evelyn (Dad’s younger sister) gave me copies of lots of the family information, photos, stories, and the sketch of the original house.

The southern part of Utah was arid and looked much like the desert areas of Arizona. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would have moved there. However, as we left the Interstate and headed into the valley and Sanpete, the landscape began to change. Mountains began to rise on either side, and ranches and farmland started to dot the landscape. As we got closer to Spring City, the area grew greener and more beautiful. And I was unexpectedly overcome with emotion.

I still haven’t been able to fully comprehend everything I was feeling. I think part of it was a profound sense of the loss of my father, who died when I was seven years old, even though I don’t believe he ever visited that place. In addition I felt such a connection to his family, knowing that they had lived and died there.

On the way into town, we passed the cemetery. It took very little searching before Larry located the grave markers. Just seeing their names carved into the sandstone somehow made them real to me. My tears represented both loss and joy and a profound sense of gratitude. Had it not been for these adventurous spirits,, I would not have been standing at their graves.

After seeing the cemetery, we continued into town and stopped at the city hall to see if they knew where the house was located. The young woman at the desk was most accommodating in attempting to assist us. However, we were unable to find the building.

This entire trip has been amazing, and nearly every day has provided another highlight. This certainly was one of them. Our journey has been all about family and friends. Touching the past added another dimension to an already memorable experience.

Waiting

Patience is definitely not my strong suit. I’m a self-confessed obsessive/compulsive control freak. I like to think I’m in charge, even though I know it’s an illusion.

You’d think after having gone through many occasions of delayed gratification, only to discover there was a reason why I had to wait, that I’d get it. But I guess I’m just a slow learner.

When Kim was a baby, we lived in a first-floor apartment one house from a very busy street. There were hospitals both to the north and south of us as well as railroad tracks a block to the north. Between ambulances and trains, the noise level was fairly high, night and day.

A friend across the street had her son a month after Kim was born. We put the babies in the playpen under the trees and spent many hours together. But after a year, she moved away. The rest of the neighbors were considerably older, and the majority of them worked. We also had no enclosed yard, and Kim was walking. We clearly needed to move.

The final straw was when the owners fumigated the upstairs apartment and under the building, sending the cockroaches directly into our unit.

We looked for a couple of months for a place to live, but we simply couldn’t find anything. It felt like all possible options were closed, and I was very upset and depressed. I wanted out NOW!

Finally, Larry came home and announced that if we could be in Chicago in ten days, he’d have a job. Otherwise, he’d be laid off. So we packed and moved. And we wouldn’t have considered that move if I hadn’t been so desperate.

Being so far away from our families was very difficult because we are both extremely close to ours. However, we now realize that our isolation actually strengthened our relationship. We had to depend on each other, and it made all the difference.

In addition, we rented a one-bedroom third-floor walk-up apartment. We put Kim in the bedroom, and we slept on a sofa bed for a year in order to save enough money for the down payment on our first house.

The lesson should have been: When the answer is “No” or even “Not yet,” the result will be even better in the long run. But did I learn it? Nope.

We had planned to move from Arcadia, CA to Dana Point the summer after Kim graduated from junior high school. We really wanted to live there, and we felt it would be a good time for her to start a new school. However, God didn’t pay any attention to my plans. At the precise time we had intended to move, housing prices in the area reached an all-time high. At the same time, interest rates soared to unrealistic levels. The final ‘hint’ that we weren’t supposed to move came when we had a fire in our attic requiring several months of rebuilding.

Kim started ninth grade at Arroyo High School, and we determined to stay there until after her senior year.

What was the big bonus this time? I am now convinced she might never have graduated had she gone to the other high school. Why? When she was there, the Arroyo choirs were as prestigious as their sports teams. She qualified for the a cappella choir in her sophomore year. Most of the members were juniors and seniors.

In her junior and senior years, she was also a member of the honors Chamber Choir, which was the California sweepstakes choir both years. 

Kim has a learning disability that makes school work difficult. However, in order to stay qualified for the choirs, she had to maintain at least  a C average and couldn’t flunk any classes. She worked extra hard and surprised us and herself by graduating with passing grades and remaining in the choir.

The HUGE bonus was that the Chamber Choir was invited to sing in Manger Square in Bethlehem on Christmas Eve! What a fabulous experience! Of course, we accompanied them, and it is one of the great highlights of all our lives.

Before she graduated, we bought a townhouse in San Juan Capistrano. She lived there during the first two years of college, and we used it on the weekends.

In 1987, everything aligned to allow us to buy our current home in Dana Point. After the fact, we realized that we actually had a ten-day window when we were able to afford this place, and we’ve been extremely happy there.

So why am I telling you about this now? This week we’ve been in Dallas visiting with Kim and trying to help her find a home to buy. And we feel like all the doors have slammed shut. Yes, we’ve been disappointed. Yes, we’ve been very frustrated. But we are now reminding ourselves that something much better is coming!

Why I Love Fairy Tales

I’ve adored fairy tales since I was a little girl, and they may be one of the reasons I write sweet romances.

I had several collections of them, and my mother read the stories to me at bedtime. The only one I didn’t like was Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Little Mermaid” because it had such a sad ending. The first time I heard it, I cried and cried, and forbade Mom to ever read it again. Years later, I reread it, and still found the ending tragic. When Disney released the cartoon version, I was delighted with the revised happy ending.

Of all the stories, I loved “Cinderella” the most. It was probably because I related so strongly to her.

My father died when I was seven, leaving only enough money to bury him. Mom was left to raise my younger brother and me by herself as a single mother in an era when there were few of those. It was several years following my dad’s death before I actually knew anyone else with only one parent.

Mom had to go to work in order to provide for our basic needs, so I became responsible not only for myself, but also for my brother and many of the household chores.

By the age of twelve, in addition to the other tasks around the house, I had sole responsibility for meal planning, grocery shopping, and cooking. That had to be accomplished on an extremely limited budget.

Until I was married, I wore nothing but hand-me-down clothes, and few of them. There was rarely enough money for extras. A special meal eaten out was a hamburger from McDonalds perhaps once a month. The first real sit-down restaurant I can remember going to was when my aunt and uncle took us to dinner to celebrate my sixteenth birthday. I’d never felt so awkward. I had no idea what to do or how to behave.

I first spotted my own prince across an empty schoolyard when I was about ten. I recently shared that memory with Larry, and he immediately incorporated it into the story of Tiffany in his latest book, Lakeview Park.

He was my first date at age fourteen, but we went out with other people until I was seventeen when we began dating again. We married the week after my nineteenth birthday, and I’ve never regretted that decision. In fact, the license plate holder on my convertible reads: “DON’T BOTHER ME, I’M LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER.” And it’s true.

He wasn’t rich, but he certainly was—and still is—very handsome. And I never took him for granted. I was all too aware of just how tenuous life can be.

We have shared an amazing life for over forty-six years, traveling the world, making friends, and laughing a lot.

Even during the past year, filled with the loss of so many family members and close friends, I am still able to focus on the blessing of having known them.

My brother, the world’s greatest pessimist, always grumbles that I see the glass half-full. He’s wrong. I usually see the glass filling to overflowing.

How did I learn to expect happy endings? From Cinderella, of course.