Our honeymoon in California was the most exciting thing that
had ever happened to me. I had fantasized about California
for as long as I could remember. My mother had a dream to
see the ocean and walk along the beach with the waves gently
caressing her feet as they rolled into the shore. Even though
she had never seen it, she loved looking at pictures and reading
about it. She loved music about the ocean. She loved poetry
and I grew up reading poems she had written and listening
to her recite some of poetry's masterpieces. The Ancient
Mariner by Samuel Taylor Colridge and The Chambered
Nautilus by Oliver Wendell Holmes were two of her favorites.
They were long poems and I marveled that she could recite
them so perfectly. I was determined to memorize both of them
and as a teenager, I did memorize The Chambered Nautilus and
would recite it back to her.
Two of mother's brothers lived in California, Uncle Viv (Vivian
Henrie), lived in South Gate and then Fullerton, and Uncle Dade
(David Brinton), lived in Los Angeles. They both knew of her
love for the ocean and always brought gifts portraying it when
they visited her. She loved seashells and they brought them to
her. At one time, Uncle Dade gave her a nautilus shell. They
sent postcards of ocean scenes and pictures of them at the beach.
Mother didn't have the opportunity to visit them in California
until George and I lived there. By then Uncle Dade had moved
away and died much too young, at age 48. Mother never got
over his death as she had been such an important part of his life
as he was growing up.
The Lloyd Mathews family lived across the street from us in
Panaca. Their daughter, Beverly, was mine and Delores' play-
mate. Beverly's grandmother was Margaret Ann Wadsworth, a
cousin of my Grandfather, Nephi John. Beverly's first cousins
and my distant cousins, sisters from California, often visited them.
These girls lived near the beach in Los Angeles. They talked about
the ocean and playing on the beach. Their life sounded so exciting,
I found myself envying them.
My beloved Aunt Lizzie Edwards, Elizabeth Alice Wadsworth, a
sister to my grandfather, Nephi John, and her husband, William
Edwards, lived in Panaca. When they were a young married
couple, they lived in California. After returning to Panaca, they
often had family and friends from California as guests at their
home. One of those visitors was Darla Jean Hood. She was just
a few months younger than me. Aunt Lizzie always had Delores
and I come to her home when Darla was there. That was so
exciting. Darla was a gifted child actress. She played the role of
Darla, who was a member of the "gang" in the Our Gang and The
Little Rascal movies. So, as a little girl, I actually played with a
movie star from Hollywood, California. I don't remember if Darla
was Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Will's niece or granddaughter. I think
she was their granddaughter.
As a little girl and teenager, I often told my parents that when I
grew up I was going to live by the beach in California. I also
promised myself that when I did, I would walk the beach with my
mother and we would pick up seashells together as the waves
rolled into shore, and watch the sun set into the ocean. When we
are children, we dream of wonderful adventures and we make many
promises to ourselves. Some come true and some do not. These,
did, and I have stories I will tell about those special times.
A point of interest to this story; as an adult serving in the Young
Women and Relief Society organizations in various wards, I often
used the poem, "The Chambered Nautilus" in my lessons and
presentations.
The nautilus is a beautiful shell. It is composed of chambers. In
the beginning, it is an inch long and contains seven tiny chambers.
These chambers are filled with gas which gives it the buoyancy to
move through the ocean, even when storms rage and the waters
are troubled. As it grows, it will add new chambers to it's shell,
each larger than the last. The inside of the shell has a lining of
lustrous nacre and a nearly perfect spiral that always reaches
upward. It's journey through life is much like our life's journey
as we gain our physical and spiritual growth. The last stanza of
The Chambered Nautilus is beautiful. It was Mother's favorite
and is also mine. I want to share it with you:
Build thee more stately mansions, oh my soul,
as the swift seasons roll.
Leave thy low vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from Heaven with a dome more vast,
till at length thou art free,
leaving thine outgrown shell by life's
unresting sea!
I was never fortunate enough to find a nautilus shell, but
Mom and I did walk the beach together and pick up many
beautiful shells of all kinds. Many times we just sat and
watched the waves crest and break as they rushed toward
the shore. Mother also loved to watch the sun set into the
vast expanse of water as the tide ebbed and the ocean birds
called out to each other as they settled for the night. These
memories are vivid and they are precious.
She also enjoyed exploring the beach and picking up seashells
with my children, Paul, Rhonda, and Craig when they were
little, just as I did, and then later as I experienced the wonder
of it with my grandchildren. I have stories to tell about that.
My mother was an amazing woman. She was the second child
in a family of seven children, five boys and two girls, with her
brother Karl being the eldest. She was born in Fredonia,
Arizona, on October 22, 1897. In 1901, when she was almost
four, her family moved to Alamo, Nevada. Her father, David,
and two of his brothers, Will and Tommy, had purchased part
of a ranch and other property in Alamo. This was an exciting
time for them, they were looking forward to expanding and
improving their lives.
Mom's parents, Lois Crosby and David Brinton Stewart, loved
their children and their home was filled with love and laughter.
She often told me how happy her early childhood was. Then,
when she was nine years old, tragedy struck. David's sister
Ethel, was moving to what later became known as the Henrie
ranch. It was located down the canyon from Caliente. Ethel
sent word to Grandpa David that she would like his help to
move. He worked hard to get her settled and by the time the
move was made, repairs to the house completed, and Ethel
settled in, it was nearing Christmas. He caught the stage to
Caliente. There was a heavy storm and since he was the only
passenger traveling on from there, the stage did not go all of
the way to Alamo but turned around in Hiko and returned to
Caliente. He looked for a way home, but with the storm and
Christmas near, there was no way available. He had promised
his family he would be home for Christmas, and so he walked
16 miles in the cold storm. He had asthma from the time he
was a boy and his lungs had been damaged. By the time he
arrived home, he had pneumonia. Even with careful nursing
and fervent prayer, his life could not be saved. He died on
Christmas Eve. He was only 39 years of age. His youngest
child, David Brinton, (Uncle Dade) was not yet six months old,
and Taylor Fay had just turned three. Fay's twin, Levi Ray
had died the previous year when he had just turned two.
Before Grandpa died, he called Karl to his bedside and talked
to him about what his responsibilities were going to be. The
duties and cares of a man were placed upon his shoulders. He
was only eleven years old but he willingly promised his father
that he could, and would, do this. At age seven, Vivian was old
enough to be of some help to Karl.
He then talked to Mom. He told her that her mother was going
to be very lonely and that she was going to need a lot of help with
the babies. Mom told us that she would never forget how she
felt when he once again told her to keep her mother company
and not let her be too lonely. She kept that promise to her father.
She and her mother, my Namie, were confidants and best friends
from that day until her mother died in 1936.
To support her children, Namie had to go to work and mom be-
came the housekeeper and little mother to her younger siblings.
Her only sister, Theresa, was too young to be of much help to
her as she was just five years old. When she wasn't in school,
Lois, a child herself, carried her baby brother David, around in
a sling she designed, while she cared for the other children, did
housework, cooked meals, and kept up with her homework.
I marvel when I contemplate upon this because the woman my
mother became was not a reflection of the hard life she had while
growing up. She had little chance for a formal education. There
was no high school in Alamo, the nearest was Lincoln County High
School in Panaca, 79 miles away. Loving school and having an
intense desire to learn, she obtained permission from school
officials to repeat the eighth grade. This proved to be a very good
thing as the new teacher for the eighth grade was James Allen
Wadsworth from Panaca. When she had only been in his class
for several weeks, she went home one day and told her mother,
"I am going to marry Mr. Wadsworth when I get older." Namie,
of course, told her she was being silly, but we know that statement
came true. James treated her with the utmost respect as her
teacher that year, but she captured his heart, and in 1917, when
she was twenty and he was thirty they were married. Even
though she had never been able to go to Panaca to high school, she
and Karl, with help from their Uncle Tommy Stewart, made sure
their younger siblings had the opportunity to do so.
What a remarkable woman Lois Stewart Wadsworth was. Despite
her lack of formal education, she was one of the most intelligent
woman I ever knew. She was kind and generous, funny and sassy.
Dad used to say she was a blithe spirit with her charming smile,
twinkling eyes, and merry laugh. She loved her seven children
with an unconditional love. She adored and supported her husband
wholeheartedly even though it often meant she was home alone with
their children and the responsibility of farm and ranch chores while
he was away on ranch duties or pursuing his responsibilities
as a Nevada State Senator.
She worked tirelessly from dawn to dusk (but, yes, she did get very
tired). She milked the cows, slopped the hogs, gathered eggs, and
forked hay to the horses and cattle. She could kill a chicken, pluck,
and cook it, for her family"s dinner. She could butcher a hog. She
planted and weeded in the garden and canned hundreds of jars of
fruits and vegetables each year.
She was famous for her cooking in Panaca, Lincoln County, and even
beyond those boundaries. Her pies, cakes, bread, cinnamon rolls and
donuts were the things of legend. People knew when her baking days
were and would "just happen" to drop by. They always left with some
baked goods. Her Halloween taffy pulls were a favorite tradition for
the children of Panaca.
She loved to pick up pine nuts. She knew exactly where to go to find
the most and the best. She harvested pounds of them each year.
Some of these pine nuts along with her suet pudding and lemon
sauce, fruit cake, homemade candies, pickles (especially mustard
pickle), jam, jelly, and peach melon preserve, always came to us for
the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.
She was a gifted seamstress and her daughters always had the most
beautiful clothes. She usually had a quilt on frames in the living room
and her patterns and quilting stitches were intricate and beautiful. I
grew up thinking that all little girls played and had their tea parties
under quilting frames. Her hand work, embroidery and crocheting,
were amazing. When her children were little and then when her
grandchildren began to arrive, she made dolls, doll clothes, stocking
monkeys, teddy bears, and other stuffed toys for them.
She was a faithful and active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter Day Saints. She served her sisters, and their families in the
gospel, as well as other residents of the county, tirelessly and un-
selfishly. She nursed the sick. She delivered babies with her mother
in the days when midwives were more often available than the over
worked doctors. She continued to do this after her mother died. She
lovingly prepared deceased women for burial, making them look
beautiful, and bringing comfort to their families.
She was a marvelous and talented story teller. She knew more poems
than most people read in a lifetime. My siblings and I grew up on her
stories and poems. Her grandchildren grew up listening to her stories
and poems, the same ones we loved; Little Orphan Annie, Little Boy
Blue, The Spider and the Fly, and Betty and The Bear. She made sure
her children loved to read and always had the best books available
to us. A good book was one of our favorite gifts.
Mother always had time for her grandchildren. In the summer, she
often had six to ten from out of town staying there, plus the seven
who lived in Panaca. Her house and yard looked like a camp for
boys and girls, and I guess that is what it was. She was the
perfect grandmother. They called her "Granny" and adored her.
She would stop whatever she was doing to play with them. She let
them eat donuts as fast as she could cook them. She patiently made
toast for milk toast for their "who can eat the most slices of milk
toast'" contests. She let them gather an egg for their breakfast, and
pick corn, tomatoes, and melons from the garden. Three things she
told them not to do, which they often did anyway, were not to climb
the fruit trees, pick her roses, or swing on the garden and front gates.
Even when they did those things, they were scolded with a twinkle
in her beautiful eyes.
She and my father instilled in their children a love for the Gospel of
The bible and The Book of Mormon. They taught us to love, honor,
and respect our parents, our siblings, our prophet and other church
leaders, the leaders of our nation, and as we married, our spouses.
They established family traditions and taught us to love them and
instilled within us a desire to see that we preserved them through the
years. They taught us to serve our fellow men, work hard. and pray
often.
I loved her so much. I admired and respected her. She was my best
friend. Is it any wonder that I wanted to give her a precious gift,
something she loved and desired? That I wanted to share our love for
the ocean. That I wanted to walk the beach with her and pick up sea
shells. That I wanted to sit with her and watch the sun set into the
ocean with all of it's glorious color, as the tide gently ebbed pulling
the water back into the sea. That I wanted her and I to share some
thing that was "our" special time together. That I wanted to see her
smile and hear her merry laugh. That I wanted to laugh as she oohed
and aahed when she found that "perfect" seashell. She was like a child
on Christmas morning as we shared these experiences and I was so
happy and excited that I was able to make it possible for her.
Mother, your little great great grandson, Brexton , Rhonda's grandson
and Brinton's son, shares your birthday of October 22nd. Today, as
we celebrate his 6th birthday, I will laugh at his joy and enthusiasm,
I will remember yours, and I will laugh again. I know you will be
laughing, too.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for all you did for me. Thank you
for sharing some of my happiest and most exciting adventures. I can't
wait to see you again. What fun we will have!
Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you. I am blessed and honored to call
you "Mother".
Family History Conference BYU
7 years ago
