My Dad's going to help me edit this post soon... until then... here's my rough draft.
This reunion happened a couple of weeks ago, but I've been putting off this post because I've been wanting to do it justice and really put into words my experience. I'm not sure that I really can yet, but it needs to be done. My Dad has never really talked about his cousins very much. My Grandpa would mention his brothers in his weekly letters that he sent out. I've met Bill and Clyde... and hear about Harry. But about the 100th anniversary of my Great grandparents wedding, their grandkids decided to organize a reunion. I went to take pictures and videos of the stories as well as play tech support for my mom's wonderful slideshow. For months, my mom and dad have been collecting memories and stories from cousins and put them together into a book to share. My mom took the pictures that the cousins sent in and created a slideshow to have playing during the luncheon. My Aunts (especially Margo) put together the food. I enjoyed the stories and the new perspectives that people offered.
It's interesting that our minds want things to be just one way. We characterize someone and don't see the whole them. God does though, and he often reminds us to forgive and to offer grace to all His children. That was really driven home for me on this day.
Back row: David Doty, Kathy Otis, Gwen Wilcox, Deborah Doty Webb, Karla W Munkacsy, Karen W Sibenaller, Debi Wilcox, Vicki Wilcox, Terry Wilcox, Margo Wilcox, Moana Wilcox, Cheryl Wilcox
Front row: Robert Otis, Brad Wilcox, Chris Wilcox, Wayne Wilcox, Roger Wilcox
Bill and his wife joined us at the cemetery.
This was taken in front of the home that Ray and Val Wilcox built and raised their sons, Wayne, Roger, Brad and Chris in. My Grandpa's brother, Clyde, lived in the chicken coop house while my Grandpa was teaching High School in Mesquite, Nevada. He worked on the coop while he was there.
After meeting in "Wilcox Circle", we drove down to the Provo Cemetery to visit relatives there and clean the graves.
The first headstone was Harry's. He was my Grandpa Ray's brother that died 7 hours after birth. I'd always heard about it, but some of the cousins had memories and contributions I'd never heard of. One of them was saying that their mother Lucy had told them that they remembered the baby and how the midwife refused to let Grace sleep with the baby and Grace felt that it was the part of the reason that the baby died. She felt that the baby would have be safe and warm with her. Lucy remembered seeing her brother laid out on the kitchen table while they waited for the doctor to come declare time of death. One of the siblings laid a blanket on him because they said that he looked cold. My grandpa never forgot his baby brother and often visited his headstone. It was sunken and so my dad got it raised up and place in cement to maintain in better. One of the cousins told her experience with Harry. She said that she had be called on a mission to France and that she wasn't sure about it. She had a dream and saw a woman with long hair and a man. For a moment, she saw them as her grandma and a little boy and knew that it was Grace and Harry. Grace waved her hand around the clearing and the cousin saw all the people there. They were all there to help and be helped by the cousin. I couldn't help but think about how many times I've felt help from the other side of the veil. That same cousin said that Grace had the spiritual gift of knowing things.... She knew when her son (Clyde?) was in a motorcycle accident just as it happened. She knew things often and she begged Heavenly Father to take that gift from her because it upset her often. And He did. I love the mercy that our Heavenly Father has. He's willing to give gifts and take them if we ask. How often do I need to just ask but don't?
Then we went to the graves of Grace and Louisa Gwyther Roper, her older sister. She died of the influenza that killed so many in 1919.
We also visited Pearl and Grace, who where also sisters. They were the two women that we part of finding the opening to the Timpanogos cave as we know it today. Pearl was very pretty and a lot of men wanted to get to know her. They also loved to hike. A group of young men invited Pearl to go look for this cave that they'd heard rumors of. They said that they were going to be lowering each other with a swing made out of ropes (like spelunking) and that they needed to wear pants to come. The two girls refused and wore their dresses as they hiked and dived into caves and out again. The two sisters loved each other very much. Pearl and Grace's families lived in the same apartment building in Chicago with their husbands, Ray and Clyde, and Pearls young daughter. Pearl died after giving birth to Glen Martin. He was just a few months younger than Grace's son, Carl, who she was breastfeeding. Grace nursed Carl and cared for them until they were able to drink from a cup.
Grace and Raymond have a special love story. Raymond was a hard man and Grace was an angel. All the grandkids talked about how she loved her garden... Her flowers and roses in particular. I think maybe she gave that love to my Grandpa Ray. That's one of my teenage memories... His rows of roses against the fence and him telling me how to plant them. My mom taught me how to prune them. And roses are the only plant that I have been relatively successful in growing for the last 40 years. Great Grandma Grace loved going to visit her son that lived in Costa Rica. They spent a lot of time swimming on the beach with grandkids. I have some letters from my Grandpa Ray just as he was going on his mission. They talk about promising his mom that he would find her a real pearl necklace to bring back to her. I asked the cousins if they knew if she ever got her pearls. They don't know for sure, but they said that Lucy, Grace's only daughter, wore pearls from her mom on her graduation day. They never did find pearls when Lucy passed away. I loved the gesture of love from a son to his mother and I hope that the pearls that Lucy wore were the same ones.
Speaking of my Grandpa going on his mission, I had only heard that his dad was not supportive of it and that he later forgave and accepted it. I didn't put it into perspective though. I knew in my head that my Grandpa had just served in WWII for three years. Then he was called to be part of the first group of missionaries in Tahiti after the war for the next three years. I didn't think of what that meant for his parents. The heart break and worry that Grace would have felt at being separated from Ray for 6 years. How Raymond probably wanted to protect Grace and himself from that long separation. How it was rare to serve a mission at that time and it would have been so easy to ask someone else to go in your place. Despite all the good work that Ray did, it would have been hard for his family at home. What I didn't know was that Raymond had only received a 6th grade education. His own father had purchased a farm and Raymond was pulled out of school to build the home and farm while his dad worked in the mine. He supported his family and enlisted as a Marine in WWI. He was part of the 10 major battles of the time... including the one that ended the war. Then he came home to live through the great depression 10 years later. He had married and had 3 kids when the depression hit. Despite the PTSD and the hard life... he managed to meet and fall in love with an angel of a woman that his world revolved around for the rest of his life. He met Grace at the Salt Lake's Saltair at a dance. She didn't believe that she was pretty. But Raymond did. All the grandkids talked about how they had been hit and hooked with his cane. But they also all talked about how Raymond supported and in some cases gave money towards their education. Of all the cousins there.... All of them had college degrees... many of them had masters or PhD's.
All the cousins talked about how Grandma Grace always put them to work weeding, picking, and especially with the roller washing/drying machine in her basement. They worked with her happily.
My dad talked about his own interaction with his grandpa. He has some good memories of him, but not very many. He remembers going to the overpasses in Chicago and waving at his grandpa as he drove his train by. When he was a 3 year old he drew pictures of the trains and his grandpa. As he grew older, he was often the target for his grandpa's temper. When they lived with their grandparents in Chicago for a few months, it wasn't a good time for him. Maybe he was more of a target because little boys that age are often hard to deal with. Maybe because my dad has hearing loss? I know that my dad is profoundly deaf now and the doctor said he must have gotten really good at reading lips.... maybe that was from his childhood? My dad has said before that when he tried to learn the piano that it didn't go well. Maybe he couldn't respond to his grandpa as fast or accurately as he wanted him to and so he got hit more often. My mom told me that my Dad was tall for his age, so Raymond expected him to act older than he was. I've see that with my kids too. Two stories that my dad told were important to me. When his grandpa died, my dad was asked to say the prayer at his funeral. He was adamant. He wanted nothing to do with it. My sweet Grandpa Ray must have been following the spirit because he kept asking my Dad to reconsider. And my sweet and teachable Dad did. Not right away, but years later, he learned to forgive his grandpa and even love him in the course of being asked to say a simple prayer. Did that change anything from his Grandpa's end especially now that he was gone? I don't know... But it freed my own Dad from bitterness and anger that could have destroyed a lot of his life. The other story that my dad told was when he was an angsty teenager. He was having a hard time and his Grandma Grace had come out to visit. She must have also been following the spirit because she made it her mission to hug him and let him know that he was loved. He never forgot and it softened him. A week later, she was killed in a car accident. The truck that Raymond was driving was new. He accidently pulled out in front of a truck and Grace was killed. He never forgave himself. We have so many opportunities to forgive each other and make sure that we let others know that they are loved. I appreciate my Dad being open and sharing with me. He must also have been following the Holy Ghost.
I'm so grateful I got to be part of this. I did make recordings of the luncheon. I'm grateful to be able to see my ancestors as more than one bad experience or one good one. They were complete people with all their complexities. I'm grateful to see the love between family even after year of being apart. (My Uncle Chris told a story about getting hooked with a fishhook twice in the same camping trip with his cousins.... once by his brother Brad and once in his own sleeping bag.) There's so much more I wish I could write down, but they are written in the book that my parents created... and again, I'm grateful.
One of the things that I learned is that just because something happened, not everyone is going to know about it or even know about it accurately. Firsthand records are best. One of the events that not everyone knew about or knew all the details about was Clyde going into the Navy. Raymond had family car. Clyde in pure teenage fashion took the car and was drag racing it with his friend. He wrecked it by wrapping it around a tree. His dad took him to the police station and between him and the officer gave Clyde a choice... jail or join the Navy. He joined the Navy. And because of the depression and shortages of everything... Raymond and Grace didn't have another car for years. It was interesting... some of the cousins didn't know about the car getting wrecked. Some knew about that but not that it was the reason that he went into the Navy. All agreed that Clyde did learn responsibility.
I really liked meeting Vicki and Terry.
This cute little girl and I figured out that we are 2nd cousins once removed. She's a cat lover and an older sister. She and her grandpa told me that she had a younger sister at home.
From stories, I could picture her being like my own sister. Janelle is spunky and fun. Full of adventure and spirit.
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