Family

I had to teach a lesson at church on Sunday about the family. During the last few weeks I have had many opportunities to think on the subject of family and the work it takes to be happy.

My grandparents had 5 children that they were raising during the great depression. My grandfather was a plasterer. During the depression there weren't many opportunities for work. When my grandmother was expecting their fifth child an acquaintance of theirs came and offered to take the baby because of the financial situation in the country. They thought that they would be better able to provide during such low times. My grandparents thanked the childless couple for their concern and sent them on their way with their testimony that the Lord would provide.

My grandfather was a hard worker. He was a man of great faith. At the beginning of the depression he put away a few hundred dollars just in case they would need them. As the country pulled out of the financial mess my grandparents had consumed plenty of beans and had gone without quite a bit, but those few hundred dollars were still safely tucked away. Their family had grown in size and stature while enduring the trial and they were better for it.

I was the second oldest of 15 grandchildren. As we all started to come along Grandma and Grandpa made many efforts to keep their family close. Over the years my husband and I have discussed what they did in order to keep us all wanting to come back for more. They had a normal family with personality conflicts between the children and the new in-laws occasionally. Not everyone agreed with the choices that grandma and grandpa made concerning their interpersonal relationships, yet they had a close and happy family that chose to be together often--why??

Grandma and Grandpa were not perfect but they had love to give. They loved each other dearly and it showed in their daily interactions. They would dance in the kitchen, laugh and pray together. They did not always get along perfectly, yet they figured out how to solve their conflicts peacefully, reaching a middle ground where both felt an equal part in the marriage.

Grandma knew her role as the mother of the family. She nurtured her children, home and garden with love and tenderness. She was a master cook with the few items she had and fed her family well. She taught her family to work and pray and she took time to play with them. Grandpa was the head of the home and when he came in and suggested a ride in the car she would grab the baby and a diaper, round up the older children and off they would go.

Grandpa knew his role as the provider and protector of the family. He taught his sons how to plaster and that skill has passed through generations. He planned for uncertain futures and kept his family safe as the world endured wars and turmoil. He took his family to church and gathered them for prayer and scripture study at home. He was a leader at church, eventually becoming a Patriarch. He was a leader in their home, he loved his wife and children and was steady during tough times.

The children knew their place, they were to obey. They learned to work around the house and yard. They ate their beans, drank their milk and laughed and played. They helped care for their grandparents who lived with them. The boys learned to plaster and build, the girls learned to sew and cook. Even after I came along I knew that after a meal the women would gather in the kitchen to do up the dishes and talk and laugh. The men would gather around the TV to enjoy a sporting game while they laughed and talked. The children would entertain themselves outside in grandma's garden.

Grandma and Grandpa provided plenty of opportunities for all of us to get together; family dinners, holidays, camping in the mountains. We all went to church together and knew that our faith was the thread that kept us knit together in love and harmony. I am thankful for my mother who did not always enjoy the family get togethers, yet went anyway so her children could have the experience of extended family, she made great sacrifices so I could understand what family was all about.

As I gather my growing family around my grandmother's dining room table I hope that I have learned the lessons she taught about joy and family living. It is not always easy to have so many people together with all of the different personalities and expectations, but Grandma taught me that with hard work it can be done and we can be better for it.

A strong and happy family is hard work that can bring great joy for many generations.

The Mountains

This week my parents are off camping in the High Sierra Mountains of California. My grandparents started this tradition when my father was a baby. My father introduced my mom to this adventure when she was a young bride. I have many happy memories of roughing it with my siblings and cousins for a week or longer every summer of my growing up years. When I was married I took my husband and children as they came along. It has been a family tradition for over 75 years.

I grew up thinking my cousins were siblings and knowing I could rely on my aunts and uncles for direction and love, all because of the close bonds that were formed from these family vacations.

I can call it a vacation, because for the most part I was a child enjoying the fun of it all, when in reality it was hard work for my parents and grandparents. We packed it all in--tents, food, stoves, fuel, tables, chairs--everything we would need for the stay. Once we were in we stayed until it was time to leave. It gets cold in the High Sierra's and it is dirty there. Hard work for the parents of little children. But the memories, incredible.

When my husbands job moved us away from the west coast our opportunities to go camping with the extended family became few and far between, but during this week each year my heart travels with my family across the Southern California desert, up past Bishop and into Mammoth and then down the side of the mountain to Agnew Meadows where we have pitched tents and camped every year for decades.

I long to get up early and help cut the cantaloupe and cook the ham, eggs and pancakes for the 40 or so that will be gathered for breakfast each morning before heading off to hike and fish for the day. I think of the women that stay in camp enjoying a quiet reading moment and the puzzle and card games that are happening. I have vivid memories of my grandmother cooking good and simple food for her large family to fill us up at the end of a wonderful day. I enjoyed watching my teen and 20 year old sons take their turns with the ax and the logs for the nightly fire.

I am hoping that soon my husband will retire and we can take a trip out west and join the family reunion another time or two with my parents, aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins. We have made an effort to continue the tradition of camping and family get togethers with our children and grand children, but in my mind, camping as a family group in the High Sierras is the high standard to meet.

Family, hard work that is well worth the effort.

Cynthia Cluff

When my parents were newly married my father joined the Navy and was sent to Oak Harbor, Washington to serve on Whidbey Island. That is where I was born. My father's sister and her husband were also newly married. My uncle was in the Army and they were also sent to Washington. That is where my cousin was born, just 25 days before me.

Cynthia and I were fast friends. Our mothers dressed us alike and for our entire lives we always had a lot in common. After the service my father took our family home to California. Cynthia went with her parents to Arizona. She and her brother would come at least once a year to visit. As we got older and able to read and write we became pen pals, writing to each other of experiences we shared in our young lives.

Cynthia was 10 when tragedy struck and her mother died. Cynthia's life would be altered forever. Aunt Peggy was a happy person. She loved her husband and children. She enjoyed being a wife, mother and homemaker. She sewed, cooked and always had a smile on her face. Her life was cut short by breast cancer.

Uncle Milford quickly married again to a young widow with two children. It was not a marriage of love, but of necessity and companionship for two young widows with a need--hers for support and care--his for two young motherless children. The family continued to grow--5 more children were added to the union. In this large family Isabel ruled with order and firmness. Each child had a responsibility--Cynthia became quite the seamstress, making clothes for the entire family. Other daughters did the cooking and cleaning--each had a specific assignment. The three boys kept up the mini farm with their father. If it was not a home of love it was certainly a house of order.

Cynthia and I kept in touch. Her visits to California were more seldom, but we still wrote letters. We were both married quite young at the age of 18, me in March, Cynthia in May. Our first babies were born a year later, hers in May, mine in July. Our next three children all came along in quick succession totaling four children each, all under 4 years old. Cynthia and I loved to get together and discuss our crazy lives--being newly wed (5 years) and having 4 children was quite the challenge--it was good to have a friend who understood what I was living.

As the years progressed the lack of maternal attention started to show in Cynthia's life. Her postpartum depression increased after each baby. She had her fifth baby when my sixth was born. This time I don't think she ever recovered. When we would get together and visit I felt like she had the personality she inherited from her mother peeking out and it would clash with the training of her step mother. It was like she had two opposite personalities dwelling in the same person and she did not know how to let them live peacefully together. Our families were young and large. We were young--under 30 years old and married just over 10 years. As I read back over my journal entries of those years I am reminded of how difficult everyday living was.

Soon Cynthia could not handle it any longer and walked away from her husband and family. She walked away from her parents and siblings. She started pursuing an interest in acting and enjoyed community theater. She met and married Joe Sorensen, changed her name to Amber Dawn and started her life again in a quiet, solitary way. She kept minimal contact with our grandmother. For over 20 years I had very little knowledge of where she was and how she was dong. In the last five years I occasionally made an effort to find her but met dead ends or non returns on my efforts.

Last summer I decided to try again. I left a message on the answering machine, but unlike in times past, a few days later my call was returned. Amber and I talked every few weeks over the course of the next 9 months. We caught up on all of the lost years. She had reunited with her children one by one. She was a happy grandmother busy crocheting blankets for each of her grandchildren. She and Joe had made a happy life together. She, like her mother was dying of breast cancer.

We still had a lot in common. She told me she always thought of me as a sister. I must admit our bond was close and I too had those same feelings. I missed our companionship during those middle years as she floundered trying to figure out who she was--torn between the teachings of a step mother and the inborn creative personality of her natural mother.

I asked why she chose her new name and she answered it represented a bright new beginning. She was born Cynthia Cluff, daughter of Milford Cluff and Peggy Kidman. She married Stan Thompson in her youth and together they had 5 children: Jared, Tenay, Kendra, Tesha, and Ryan. She finished her life as Amber Dawn, married for 25 years to Joseph Sorensen. She was happy and content. She passed away April 28th after a 3 year battle with breast cancer.

Today Amber would have been 57 years old. Happy Birthday, Cynthia. I love you and pray you are finding peace in your mother's arms.

Mom

I am lucky to have a wonderful mother.

She was just 18 when I was born so we sort of grew up together.

I remember as a little girl sitting on the bed watching my mother brush and style her long dark hair. I was mesmerized by her beautiful hair. Unfortunately she had 3 children in quick sucession and the hair was one too many things to take care of, so she cut it off and wore it short for the next 50+ years. Now as a great grandmother she is letting it grow again.

She taught me many things over the years that I recall on a daily basis:

Lesson number one was to trust in the Lord. She taught her four children to pray and took us to church. She served in her callings with her best ability and attended the temple. She supported my father in what ever calling he had and helped us take care of our church responsibilities. She made treats for Family Home Evening and encouraged us to be prayerful in our choices.

Lesson number two was to be a good wife. My father was always my mother's first concern. She supported him as the head of our home. She worked by his side in all of the remodeling and building tasks that came up. When he suggested a ride together, she grabbed a diaper for the baby, loaded us up and away we went, laughing and smiling, with thoughts of an ice cream treat for a reward.

Lesson number three was that family and traditions are important. I remember mama loading us up in the car and driving us to downtown Los Angeles to visit my great grandmother. I remember being sent on a walk to the mail box to send a post card mama had written to her grandmother. Mom worked tirelessly to make gifts and prepare a meal for the entire extended family each Christmas. She spent family vacation camping with her in-laws every year, hauling everything needed to keep 4 little ones clean and dry.

Lesson number 4 was that hard work is good. She would work by our sides as we learned to cook and clean. She encouraged us as we pulled weeds in the yard. Her chore box was memorable, and the reward of a trip to the mall on a Saturday afternoon helped us work a little faster. From her I learned that a house needs to be clean enough to be healthy and messy enough for the family be creative.

My mom is very creative. This year she knitted a scarf and stylish hat for all of her daughters, grand daughters and nieces. She is magic in her sewing room. Her home is a beautiful reflection of the creative thoughts that whirl through her head. She is meticulous in her work and has won blue ribbons for her perfection.

Sometimes it takes a few life experiences to appreciate your own wonderful mother. I have been richly blessed and my mother is at the top of my blessing list. She loved me through the trying years, encouraged me through the rough years, she continues to teach through the growing years.

It was mom's birthday last week--she turned 75. She was noticing some signs of aging. I reminded her that our family lives long and healthy and that we have at least 20 more years to go. May they be happy and productive years.

Happy Birthday Mom. I love you.

Memory Lane

This last weekend I got to take a walk down memory lane.

I spent two days with my aunt. She lives in the home she and her husband bought as newly weds in 1950. It is a beautiful little cottage in the middle of California mini mansions.

I went to church at the same building I attended 50 years ago. My dad, uncles and grandfather helped build that building. I saw and visited with people who have known me since I was a little girl.

I drove by our house. My mom and dad built an addition on that house. They bought it when I was little and brought my siblings there as babies.

My elementary school is gone and so is grandma and grandpa's house, but, as I drove by I could see it all so clearly in my mind's eye.

I was a lucky girl that grew up with my cousins as siblings and my aunts and uncles treated me the same as their own children. My grandparents lived 4 blocks from us, a block from school. I walked to school every day with my best friend, Vicki Witt.

For dessert after dinner yesterday, my aunt served her famous cherry pie. Flaky, sweet, delicious. Grandma baked delicious pies. I have not been able to replicate them, though I have figured out the rolls and bread.

It was a wonderful walk. Thank you sweetheart for taking me with you on this trip. I am having a great time.