When you walk into the home of an older couple it is not uncommon to see a collection of eclectic likes and experiences. Most of the time we are too engrossed with the task that brought us there to take the time to see what the significance of these possessions are to those living there. When you walk into my grandparents home you are immediately confronted with a plate collection in the kitchen, the musty smell of old paper, a rug from Egypt, several framed charcoal drawings on the wall, extra
pantie hose and yarn in every available space, inlaid boxes from different locales, and several books covering anything from the gospel, education, WWII, or Tahiti. And while my grandma likes always to be seen as classy and sophisticated her house looks nothing like what this day and age considers classy or sophisticated as it encases the record of their lifetime experiences.
Grandma Val was born and raised in part in windy Chicago during the time of the gangsters with toothpicks and spats. Her family fled Chicago because they wouldn't pay for protection against these same thugs. She grew up with three sisters and became a reporter for the newspaper during WWII. After the war she met and married my grandpa at the age of 27. They had a hard time having kids... they finally had a little boy and after 4 more years of struggling they had the next three... all boys. Grandma is a poet and artist. She was the President of a National Poet Society, has been published several times, wrote lyrics with Janice
Kapp Perry and was the proud teacher of a second grade elementary class for many years. She was a downwinder and as a result she suffered from breast cancer. She served a mission to Georgia with my grandpa and after her hands started to shake too badly to draw anymore... she still
concentrated and concentrates on writing on her ancient type writer... refusing the computer in her study... and crocheting leper bandages while watching
BYU football on TV. When her companion and love of 60 years passed she was absolutely devastated... and still mourns. She still watches football and passes the time as she can. To be honest... I was not close to her as a child. Her upright posture and
insistence that we always be ladies doesn't mesh well with children. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I grew to see and love my grandma the way I do now. Childhood memories of her consist of me sitting on a crate in her kitchen because I got in trouble, her teaching me how to properly lay a table, and walking with books on my head so that I learned good posture (which of course I never did). After I grew she drew caricatures of me and my friends, made my temple apron, and always made a point of being available to help go over
English papers and poetry assignments.
My Grandpa Ray grew up in a family where physical disciple was prevalent. He joined the army early and was sent to build the Burma road. He became the clerk for his unit. They had a camera so he learned how to use it and carried it from that point forward. His attention to detail and orderliness served him well. After the war he was called as a missionary to the Tahitian people where he was sent to an island by himself to learn the language and set up the church. He was called to be in the mission presidency and finished his mission by translating the D&C into Tahitian for the church. He returned home, met my beautiful grandmother and they were married in the Salt Lake temple. They honeymooned by taking a car trip. By the time they reached Lake Louise they had run out of money and had to call to get some wired to them for the trip home. The first twenty years were busy and fulfilling. They had their 4 boys, he became a full professor at
BYU, he set up and studied classrooms around the world including living in Ethiopia and visiting classrooms in places like Easter Island and India. He went through skin cancer diagnosis and treatment. Was told that he would die at the age of 40 from heart failure... and lived for another 40 years. Knew what he wanted financially and faithfully accomplished it. Continued to photograph and develop pictures from his own home. Learned to play the organ only a couple of years before he died and faithfully became to mascot at the local gym... his exercise gave him the mobility that his arthritic body would have lacked otherwise and the stregth his heart needed to keep going. Did genealogy and temple work for over 10,000 people and loved everyone that crossed his path. My favorite memories of him were ironically when he tutored me in math. We would talk about math and then pull out his pictures of the places and people he knew and talk about stories and composition of pictures. When he could no longer take pictures he gave me his ever present sidekick... a Nikon SLR.
Knowing this about the people that have lived for so long in that old red brick house I would never judge them to be any less than they are. I have even come to love the little
nickknacks that they have brought together and so forgetfully display every day. The house wouldn't be the same without their collection of eclectic trinkets.
