Families Are Forever. . . .

The Nephi John and Eliza Jane Terry Wadsworth home in Panaca.
James Allen Wadsworth, my father, lived in it while he was growing
up and later with his wife and family. I lived in it from the age of 2
until I was 11 or 12.

It is now the home of James Leo and Kathleen Vickers Wadsworth.

From the book - George Allen Wadsworth - Pilley to Panaca
September 10, 1896, "The new brick dwelling of N. J. Wadsworth
was nearing completion. When finished it would be the finest
residence in the county".

The new house was a big two-story home built by Albert Miller
of St. George. The home was eagerly looked forward to, for the
family included ten members and another was expected. After the
Wadsworth family moved into the house, it became known as the
"Castle", a name it is still affectionately called 115 years later.


I received a beautiful letter from my brother Leo yesterday. As
I was reading it again this morning, I was thinking about my
parents and my siblings. Of my two brothers and four sisters, only
Leo, and Delores are still living. Of George's three brothers and
three sisters, he is the only one still living. Both George and I were
the second youngest in our family.

Our mortal life is fragile. It is really but a moment in the eternities
to come. I grew up in a home with wonderful parents. They loved
me and my siblings unconditionally. They raised us to be good,
moral, people. We grew up with a deep and abiding love for our
parents and our siblings. We honored our parents and their desire
for us to love and respect our siblings and treasure our family ties.

Our parents set the standard with us to do all we could to preserve
family ties, the ties that bind us together eternally. We worked hard
to do this after our parents died. We carried on family traditions,
continuing to publish the James Wadsworth Tribal Gazette newsletter
and hold our Family Reunions. We have worked hard to instill within
our children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, the importance
of our extended family. My generation will soon be gone and it will be
their responsibility to make sure their progeny continue what we
have worked so hard to preserve.

Leo, is now 90 years old, Kathy is 88, George and I are 80, and Pete
and Delores are 78. As patriarch of our family,Leo is the last source
of much of our family history and personal stories. Yes, Delores and I
know some of the stories but we are so much younger than Leo, there
are many that we have not heard.

As I share my personal history on my blog, I am writing stories about
my grandparents, parents, and siblings. These are stories my parents
aunts, uncles, and older siblings have told me, and also from reading
their personal histories, doing genealogy research and reading
published books about my ancestors.

Many of the stories I share have come from Leo. He has been so
wonderful about sharing them with me. Frequently, I receive a letter
from him with a beautiful and touching story. Such is so with the
letter I received from him yesterday. It has a story about Dad and is
also filled with his thoughts and reminiscences about his siblings. I
thought I would share it with you.

Sept 11, 2011
Panaca, Nevada

My very dear Ina and well loved, George,

Have been meaning to write for weeks, but never got around to it
because I convinced myself I'm too busy.

You will have to put up with my scrawl because I'm out of tape on
my 20 year old typewriter. I have several new ones someplace in
this house but I don't feel like looking.

If I didn't love this old house so much, I'd get out of it and go to a
lower altitude where both Kate and I feel better.

It may or may not be, but I often feel a presence in this house. Quite
often Grandma, and occasionally, Granddad. I woke up this A.M. with
the feeling Dad had been here in the night. Over and over in my mind
this A.M. I hear "Oh, the roses are blooming in Picardy", along with
'The End of a Perfect Day". Another favorite song of Dad's, "Lilac Time"
and memories of France are so closely associated with Dad in my mind.

Dad loved the famous tenors, Thomas L. Thomas and John (whose
last name escapes me.) We, Dad, had several Victor 78 records by
those two. He especially loved John, the great Irish tenor of the late
10s and 20s.

I don't know how much Ina knew of Dad's bad several weeks near the
end of the war (World War II), Dad was hauling a load of ammunition
to our front lines and his ammunition train was straffed by the
German Air Force. While he was cutting one of his beloved draft
horses who had been killed, from the the team, a wounded one kicked
his bad hip. He was already bruised and battered and sick, in the early
stages of the terrible flu that was epidemic at that time. He was sort
of abandoned for the medics to pick him up. A French farm woman
and her adult daughter found him. He was with them for several
weeks, very ill and nursed by them, before he was found by American
medics and returned to his regiment.

There is, of course, much more to this story, but the only two I knew
of who had the whole story were Uncle Lafe, and especially Uncle
Jack ( Nephi John, Jr.) and neither would ever tell the whole story,
but I heard enough for "surmising" (is that a word) to relate it.

I spend so much time thinking of my family. I had such a wonderful
host of immediate family, then aunts and uncles, and of course, cousins.

The most vivid and precious memories are of my siblings. I had a
separate and distinct relationship with each. Every time I get in a car,
I can see Ina sitting behind the wheel with tears streaming down her
face. I offer to let someone else teach her to drive but she would
always say, "No, I want you."

I see her shinnying up old Pardner's leg until she could reach the
stirrup. I see her on Silver, "in command". Then when she finally
talked me into letting her ride Lobo, the only female who ever did.
Ina was an excellent rider. She loved the horses and they trusted her.

I can't butter a waffle without thinking of Edna. She would never eat a
waffle until she had butter in every crevice. She was so intent.

Theresa was something special to all of us. The last time I saw her,
she sent all who were there out to shop because she wanted to visit
with me one on one.

Martha, was of course, Martha. My tag along sister. I have many
memories of her and of David and Delores, my only brother and baby
sister.

Those are some of his memories and reminiscences in the letter. He
talks about his and Kathy's health and closes with this:

"On the 26th of this month, Kate and I will celebrate our 60th
Wedding Anniversary. Just to remind you, Nephi John and Eliza Jane
and James Allen and Lois Stewart celebrated their 50th anniversaries
in this house. I would bet there are few houses that have had three
such celebrations for three immediate generations." He talks about
opening the old home for a celebration in their honor when they are
feeling better, maybe October.

He closes with this, "Our grandson, Jared, his really wonderful wife
and their new baby have called and want to "do us" at the house on
the 26th. We welcome it."

I wanted to share this letter because it contains some history, and
memories that I share with Leo. I, too, have felt a presence in the old
house. When I was a child living there, I often felt it so strong in the
upstairs master bedroom, on the balcony, and in the parlor, that I
was often frightened of something I was too young to understand
until one night I heard the grandmother I never knew whisper, "I
love you." Now, like Leo, I would just feel it as a confirmation of the
eternal love of our family. Many times during the day, I look at the
picture of the old house which hangs here in my home, and I smile.

Families are forever and I am grateful to know that we do have an
eternal family. The knowledge that we can be together, forever,
makes it easier to bear the trials we face throughout our mortal life .

A point of interest; Knowing of Dad's love for the song, "When You
Come To The End Of A Perfect Day" which had been sung at his father's
funeral, Mother asked George if he would sing it at Dad's funeral
service. I have never heard him sing more beautifully.

Dad had a beautiful singing voice. He sang tenor. At one time he
was invited to sing with The Tabernacle Choir after General
Authorities visiting Panaca for conference, heard him sing.

The great Irish tenor, John, whose last name Leo did not recall, was
John Count McCormack. Three of his most famous songs which Dad
loved, and which I often heard him sing, were "It's A Long Way To
Tipperary", "Keep The Home Fires Burning", and "Believe Me Of
All Those Endearing Young Charms". Keep The Home Fires
Burning and It's A Long Way To Tipperary were very popular songs
that were sung during World War II.

I made reference to the song "Lilac Time". Along the fence in front
of the old home, lilac bushes were planted. They bloomed in
profusion every spring and summer. The scent permeated the air
around the home. A fresh bouquet of blossoms was always in the
dinning room and parlor. Often, I can still smell that glorious
fragrance, and it evokes precious memories of my family.