Foster Charles/Charlie Foster. . . .

In several of my stories I have written about Foster Charles, also
called Charlie Foster. He was the Indian Chief who was a good friend
of Dad's. He and his tribe came to Panaca each year when it was time
to harvest the pine nuts from the Pinon Pine trees that grew in great
profusion on the Panaca summit.

Several months ago, in an e-mail, Bruce asked me if I knew what had
happened to the Indian Chief that was Dad's good friend. I wrote Leo
hoping that he could tell me some of the history of Charlie. I received
an answer from him with the following information:

In the 1870's, the Utes, including Paiutes and Chivwits, had decided
to start another war against the whites that were taking over Utah,
Southern Idaho, Northern Arizona, and Eastern Nevada. The wars
of the 1850s and 1860s were still fresh in memory, but the Indians
had not really been beaten. Although they could not get a real
movement going, it looked like they were going to try again. A minor
war chief went to our Great Grandfather Terry and to our Great
Uncle, Charles Foster. These two men had married sisters, aunts of
our grandmother, Eliza Jane Terry Wadsworth. The chief told the
two men that he had to answer the call. At that time, honor to the
Indians meant more than to many whites.

The chief stated that he knew it was a losing cause and that the anger
would be such that he was afraid for his family. He wanted those two
good friends of his to take his two children and raise them as their own.

Uncle Charlie had not the large growing family that Thomas Sirls had,
so he took both of them. It was necessary that they be given white
people's names. He reversed the names of him and his wife. Using
those names, he had the children baptized and sent them to school.
They evidently were good students. Uncle Charlie sent them to the
BYU Academy. The way I remember it, after one year the girl
returned home, "back to the blanket", and married. Foster remained
at school for two years in Provo. He stayed very strong in the
church. When he was in Panaca, he never missed attending.
He looked upon Granddad Nephi as a cousin.

After granddad died, Foster continued to bring his family to Panaca
each year as soon as school was out in the St. George area. His three
older sons worked for some of the men in Panaca, mostly for Dad
and his brother, Uncle Frank.

Through the government in Washington D.C., the Bureau of Indian
Affairs and the Department of Interior had been in charge of building
houses for the Navaho's and Hopis in Arizona and New Mexico.
Several clusters of small, square cement homes were built on the
Chivwits Reservation west of Santa Clara, Utah. But rather than
the Indians falling on their knees in thanksgiving, as had been
expected by the government, most of them were not interested.
In the beginning, government representatives selected "leaders"
from the Indians to contribute their thoughts and ideas on the
venture. Accord was never reached between our government
and the Indians. Due to that, and the lack of interest by the Indians,
most of the houses were never lived in and fell into ruin.

Foster with a better than average education, his father's status
in the Indian Nation, influence in politics because of his
foster families, and because the three Indian tribes trusted him,
had been chosen to be a leader. Figuratively though, like his
sister, he "went back to the blanket". Besides seeing him when he
came to Panaca with his tribe, Dad went through the reservation
fairly often to see him and thus remained in touch.

Leo said he doesn't remember Foster coming to Panaca after 1935.
He clarified that year with a ?, meaning he is not sure of the year.
I think Charlie had to have returned into the late 1930s as I have
vivid memories of him and his tribe together on the porch of the
Wadsworth store on several occasions. I remember how nice they
all were to me because I was James' daughter. I also have vivid
memories of playing with one of the little Indian girls who was my
age. If they quit coming in 1935, I would have only been four years
old and I don't think my memories would be so strong and clear.

Leo said Peter, Charlie's (Foster's) youngest son and he, were
good friends. After the tribe quit coming to Panaca, Leo said he
would see Peter once-in-a-while at horse race meets and rodeos.
He was always very friendly and happy to see Leo, but outside of
that, he didn't seem to want to socialize

Anther point of interest is that the second husband of our second
cousin Nell Wadsworth, was Charlie Foster's youngest son.
Leo said he had some good visits with him at Wadsworth and
Stewart reunions in the Las Vegas area where they lived. He
said he has often wondered why this man didn't keep track of the
Foster Charles family as that family meant so much to Uncle
Charles Foster.

I hope the Foster Charles/Charlie Foster references in this story
are not totally confusing to you. Our family always referred to him
as Charlie Foster rather than Foster Charles.

Charlie and his tribe were an important part of my childhood. I
loved it when they would assemble at the Wadsworth store. I
was fascinated with their gentle nature, the sound of their soft
conversation in their own language. I loved the vivid colors in
their clothes, the women's long dresses, the ribbons and beads
braided into the little girls hair, and the haircuts the men and
boys sported. I was enthralled with the papooses sleeping in
their beautiful cradle boards.

Thank you, Leo, for this wonderful information. I would love to
know where Charlie is buried. I am sure it is in the St. George
Santa Clara area. I am going to do some research on this.

I'm Back. . . .

I can't believe it has been six months since I last posted. The first
problem was an inability to post pictures. I didn't want to post my
stories without the pictures that go with them. I still haven't
solved the problem. We are working on it and hope to solve it
soon. For now, I will write stories that will not be posted with
pictures. The second problem is that I got sick. It has been a
longer recovery than I expected and I have not been able to
focus.


Thank you for your patience. I haven't forgotten all of my loyal
followers and I hope you haven't forgotten me.

About the "Something Borrowed" at my wedding. . . .

When writing about getting ready for my wedding. I related how

my mother put into my hand the beautiful white handkerchief with

the delicate crocheted edging that she carried when she and my

father were married. It was the same handkerchief that her mother

had carried on her wedding day. She told me it was the "something

borrowed" I would carry to my wedding and that I would carry

it again when George and I were sealed in the temple.

For many years, my sisters and I shared in the joy of collecting

dolls. It was more than a hobby to us. It was something we all

loved and could do together. I have often reflected on the happy

times we shared as we searched together for that "perfect doll",

the one that was our heart's desire, the one that we just had to

have. Searching for that doll gave us an excuse to be together. It

fueled our excited phone calls late at night or very early in the

morning. It gave us the joy of receiving or sending, a spontaneous

gift to a beloved sister. I remember searching in England and Germany the summer I traveled there, for a doll for each of my sisters. I remember several occasions when I opened a

package from a sister and found a doll nestled lovingly in tissue

paper and smiling up at me as I looked at her.

I have loved going to my sister's homes and looking at their dolls

and the way they are displayed. I have particularly enjoyed

looking at the dolls in the hutch in my sister Delores' home. She

is the sister closest to my age and we were childhood playmates.

We did everything together. We often dressed alike and shared

many of the same friends. In her hutch, she has some of the same

dolls that I have displayed in my home. They speak to us of a

Christmas from our childhood. When I see her Doc doll from Snow

White and the Seven Dwarfs smiling at those who look at him, I

smile, because at home my Doc smiles at me and reminds me of

a gift from our brother Leo who bought him for us on a joyful day

in Provo, Utah, when we were little girls. We have loved him

since our childhood.

Edna didn't feel that she had money to buy dolls for her sisters,

so she began buying paper dolls for us. Soon, we all were adding

to our paper doll collections. It was a race to see who could find

the latest Hallmark paper doll birthday card for their sisters.

We enjoyed buying the modern paper dolls and searching in

gift shops and antique stores for old ones. We were always

trying different ways to exhibit them. Edna spent many hours

cataloging hers and putting them into albuums. Mine are carefully sorted but they are not on display. I look at them often but few

see them.

Besides collecting dolls, we all tried our hand at making a rag,

bisque, or composition doll. Some were better at this than others. We all dressed a doll, or dolls, in clothes we designed and sewed. Martha and Theresa were the most talented at designing and making the clothes. The rest of us benefited from their talent as they helped us in our endeavors.

Theresa is the sister who excelled in making rag dolls and teddy bears. She helped me make my first Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls

for my little nieces, Marsha and Ann, and later for my own children.

We spent many happy evenings embroidering the faces, stuffing

the bodies, and making their clothes. Mother was an expert in rag

doll making. My children were the recipients of sock monkeys and

stuffed animals. She lovingly made beautiful rag dolls for Rhonda

and her other grandaughters. I am sure that is where Theresa got

her love for making such beautiful rag dolls.

I never tried to make a Teddy Bear. I have several adorable bears that Theresa made for me in all sizes, from tiny two inches to eighteen inches. She dressed some of them and others came with beautifully crafted assessories like the stick horse the cowboy teddy bear has.

Martha excelled in making bisque and composition dolls. She was meticulous in making sure that they were accurate in every detail. She researched the hair and clothes before finishing a doll. She searched for hours for the perfect wig. If she was creating a vintage "antique" doll, she shopped antique stores for material for the clothes and if she couldn't find a dress or coat pattern she liked, she created her own. At one time or another, together or alone, we all made a bisque doll and dressed it. I also took a class and made a doll with my daughter-in-law, Joanne.

The pictures I have posted with this story are of a doll Martha made from the mold of a French Bru. She made one for each of us. She found the material for the dress at an antique store that stocked old vintage material. What makes this doll so special is the collar and the beautiful lace trim on the dress. After mother's death, Martha was going through an old trunk mother kept in the closet of our little home in Panaca. She found the beautiful white handkerchief, the one that was the "something borrowed" I carried at my wedding. She also found the dress my father wore when he was blessed in 1887. The dress had deteriorated and turned yellow with age but the lace trim was beautiful and unblemished. Martha cut the handkerchief into two pieces. She fashioned them into collars for the dresses. She added the three delicate blue bead flowers and some lace from Dad's christening dress to finish them. She then trimmed the skirt of the dress with more of the lace. The finished doll is beautiful. I will forever cherish it because my sister made her for me and because her clothes are finished with a collar made from the handkerchief carried by my grandmother at her wedding. Namie then gave it to my mother who carried it when she and my father were married in the Salt Lake Temple.

The tradition was then carried on as Mother gave it to me to carry at my wedding and to full fill a promise she made to me, that I would carry it again when George and I were sealed in the temple.

I did carry it on June 21, 1958. On that beautiful day, George and I kneeled at the alter and were sealed as husband and wife. Then Paul and Rhonda were brought in and sealed to us and we became a family sealed together in love, for time and all eternity. I remember looking at my mother holding Rhonda in her arms with Paul at her side. Uncle Viv and Aunt Wanda and Delores and Pete were there. Thank you. Martha, for such a special gift. This doll is very special to me. I will cherish her as long as I live and hope that after I am gone, Rhonda will take her and love her as I have.

My Celluloid Carnival Doll. . . .

When we moved to Mesa from Descanso, California, in 1989, I

packed an old trunk with dolls and things related to dolls. The

trunk sat in our storage unit until just a few months ago when

George brought it to the house so I could go through it and

decide what I am going to do with the things that are in it.

I opened it this morning for the first time since I packed it all of

those years ago. I did it with feelings of dread that the hot Mesa

summers had ruined everything that was in it. Laying on top

was a small tissue wrapped item with a sticker reading "Celluloid

Carnival Doll - Utah State Fair - 1939".

I opened it and saw a cute little Kewpie celluloid doll smiling at

me. Her feathers were disintegrating but otherwise she was

still in remarkable condition considering she is 72 years old.

Feelings of nostalgia overwhelmed me as I was assailed by my

memories of a visit to the Utah State Fair those many years

ago. I was visiting Theresa and LeGrande. The fair had opened.

I had never been to a large fair and they thought it would be fun

for us to spend the day there. I was in heaven! The sights, sounds,

and smells were amazing. I had my very first ride on the huge

double Ferris Wheel. We went to the area where the animals were

on exhibit. They bought me a candy apple, ice cream, and pink

cotton candy as we strolled the midway. We played some games

and LeGrande won a prize for me throwing coins into ashtrays.

I had my choice of several prizes and after agonizing over making

a decision, I chose this little celluloid doll. Originally, she was

fastened on a bamboo cane. I don't know what happened to it.

We looked through many buildings housing different exhibits. It

was a magical day for a little girl from the tiny town of Panaca.

After I became an adult and began to spend time with Theresa,

not as her little sister but as a best friend, fellow doll lover and

collector, we often talked of that day. Theresa asked me if I

remembered the last thing I did at the fair. She was laughing as

she shared it with me. As she talked, I did remember most of

what she told me.

This is her account of what happened. It was almost time for us

to go home and Theresa wanted to see the displays in the Home

Arts Building. This building was where the sewing, embroidery,

crocheting, knitting, quilting, and other fancy handiwork was

displayed. Theresa made beautiful clothing. She quilted and her

embroideried pieces were absolutely beautiful.

LeGrande was not interested in walking through those displays.

He told Theresa to go and enjoy herself and he would take me to

some of the Midway shows. When we met her later, I began to

tell her about the show we saw where a huge woman was dressed

in a costume made from balloons and feathers of all colors and sizes.

She sat on a throne which was on an elevated stage. A carnival barker

asked people in the audience a question and if they answered it

correctly, they could pop a balloon. I don't remember when we left

the show, but I do remember a lot of balloons were popped before

we did. With each balloon that was popped, more of this huge woman

in her feathers, was revealed.

Theresa became more and more angry as I told this story. She

said to LeGrande, "What on earth were you thinking taking a

child to that show?" LeGrande was blushing a little, but he was

smiling as he answered, "Well Sugar (he always called her Sugar),

there were a lot of kids there and they were loving all of the

balloons popping. It was not anything to worry about because I

knew we could leave before too many of them were popped, and

we didn't pop any. And then, he sweetly asked, "Did you enjoy the

Home and Fine Arts displays?"

Now, Theresa was the one who told me all of the dialogue that

was exchanged between her and LeGrande. Theresa visited me

when we lived in El Cajon and on two occasions we went to the fair

at the Delmar Race Track and Fairgrounds. She and Edna visited

me in Mesa and we went to the Arizona State Fair. Each time, as

we were walking through the Home Arts Building, Theresa would

tell the story again and we would laugh until we cried and had to

sit down.

Through the years, this has remained one of my favorite stories.

My little Celluloid Carnival Doll is very special to me. It is not just

that she has survived for 72 years, but because of the wonderful

memorie she evokes.

Celluloid being as fragile as it is, I am surprised that I still have

her. She has lived most of her life in a trunk. She was in

Mother's trunk in her closet until after I married and began

collecting dolls. She was on display for a time in Descanso and

then once again put into a trunk where she lay for 21 years.

Even without all of her feathers, I love her.

A little history about celluloid:

Celluloid is one of the first synthetic plastics ever created. It is

made from wood products that include cellulose nitrate and

camphor. It is not the perfect plastic since it is flammable and

deteriorates easily if exposed to moisture. It also can be prone to

denting, cracking and yellowing.

Bisque and china dolls were breakable, fragile, and expensive,

so in the 1830s, doll and toy makers began experimenting with

celluloid. It was easily molded and was generally inexpensive.

Some fine dolls were created by major doll manufacturers from

celluloid and by the early 1900s were plentiful. In the late 1930s

and 1940s, Japan and a few companies in the United States and

Europe found a market for the inexpensive lesser quality celluloid

used to make carnival dolls and the other cheap toys and trinkets

that began showing up at carnivals and fairs. The celluloid Kewpie

Carnival Doll was one of the more popular items offered as a game

prize on the midways of these events. These little vintage dolls like

mine are now a sought after collectible coveted by doll and toy

collectors.

Our New Bedroom. . . .

We finally finished redoing our bedroom. I don't think we would have

been been able to accomplish this without Trey's help. He helped

George move the furniture and he removed the popcorn from the

ceiling, textured and painted it. He also did all of the high ladder

work such as removing and reinstalling the ceiling fan and the high

up painting.

Rhonda was my interior designer when it came to choosing colors

and the valance for the blind. To save money, we tried to use accent

pieces we had. We also decided to not replace the blind for the sliding

patio door. Since it was pink, I worried about that, but the colors

we chose and the valance Rhonda found, tied it together beautifully.

We used lamps we already had in our bedroom. George repainted

the design with colors to match the walls. You would think that I

chose colors to match the dolls, flower arrangement, and floral

picture. I didn't. I chose the colors I wanted and they just happened

to compliment my accent pieces. I was amazed and happy at how

they blended so perfectly with each other.

Years ago, Kathy painted each of Leo's sisters a floral picture

featuring our favorite colors. Over the years, her picture has hung

in several different homes we have had and it looks nicer on this

wall than any of the others.

Rhonda brought me the beautiful Furga doll from Italy years ago.

I had always admired my siter Theresa's Furga dolls and was

delighted when she brought her to me. She didn't know I had

always wanted a Furga lady doll. We kept Brinton while she

was in Italy. It was 1984. He was just a little guy, 15 months old.

The boy and girl C & R Dolls on the dresser, were a gift from

Theresa in the early 1980s. The flower arrangement was made

by Donna Sperry who is a dear friend and was Relief Society

President when George was Bishop of the Alpine Ward. She made

it for his office. The plaques are in recognition of the hours and

service I have rendered to the Phoenix Zoo since I became a

volunteer there in 1991.

The picture above the bed is a limited edition lithograph of a

painting done by Ruby, the Phoenix Zoo's painting elephant.

It is titled "Midnight". I have had it since just after Ruby died

and had never framed it to hang. This was the perfect time.

George hand tooled the leather picture of Ruby to hang by it.

It was done from a photo taken of Ruby just after she had

completed a painting. The raised trunk was always her

signal that the painting she was working on was finished.

Dick George was the Zoo's photographer at that time. He

wrote and illustrated a book about Ruby after her death.

So, our new bedroom is decorated with things that are near

and dear to my heart and make the room seem even more

special to me. I think it all blended together in a very

attractive way.

"My Worst Nightmare Come True!". . . .

When I started my blog and chose not to make it private, I have had
nightmares that someday someone would read it and be offended by
something I said, either about them or information I posted, that
they did not deem to be correct.

Two weeks ago, that nightmare came true. I went to my mailbox early
in the morning and found a small parcel there. I thought, "Hmmm, I
am not expecting anything, I wonder what this is?"

I looked at the return address and it said it was from Roscoe Wilkes.
My heart almost stopped and I broke out in a cold sweat wondering
what my long ago District Attorney would be sending me. When I
opened it, there was a letter and a book. Knowing that I had written
about Roscoe in at least two of my blog stories, my hands were
shaking so bad I could hardly focus to read the letter. I found myself
thinking, "Oh no, could Roscoe have someway found my blog and
did I say something to offend him."

It is a very gracious, very fun, letter. Never-the-less, I could not
wait to go to my blog and read the stories that included him, and my
heart was pumping big time. I couldn't imagine saying anything that
would offend him as I had nothing but the utmost admiration for him
and he taught me so much in the few times that I was called to his
office to assist him. Still worrying, I read and reread, what I said.

Finally George said to me, "Ina, quit worrying so, the things you said,
rather than offending Roscoe, probably made him feel good." So
Roscoe, if you read this, thank you for the letter. I loved it and I love
what you said about my family. I appreciate you taking the time to
write me. Do you think maybe it is the "Teddy Bear" side of you
that did this? I was immediately transported back to those days
when I was a wide eyed young girl working at my first important job
as a secretary to County Clerk, Esther Rollins and completely in
awe of Lincoln County District Attorney, Roscoe Wilkes.

Thank you for sending me your marvelous book. I have read it,
and some of the stories more than once. It is a very delightful
read. It is a wonderful bit of history of Pioche and Lincoln
County and I now have my own personally signed copy.

And now, being a glutton for punishment, I am going to push my
luck a bit farther and and include your letter in this post. That
is because it mentions members of mine and George's families in
a most positive way and will be a fun addition to the family history
I am attempting to write.

Roscoe's book is titled :

HIGH DESERT TALES
from the Not So Wild West

The cover features a wonderful picture of Pioche's No. 1 Mine.
To all of you who grew up in and loved a small town, and those
of you who just visit or read about them, I highly recommend this
book. It is a delightful, nostalgic read.

A letter to Ina Mae and George from Roscoe Wilkes:

Hi Ina Mae and George,

Browsing the internet, I discovered your writing about growing up
in a small town and enjoyed it, as I too experienced that privilege
in Pioche. One can even enjoy towns smaller than Pioche and
Panaca in story in the enclosed book.

Yes, I am the "Teddy Bear" who made little girls quake in their
boots then. And am also a "close" friend of brother Jim (Leo) and
an admirer, classmate and friend of sister Theresa, proud to have
her as our valedictorian, an honor won fair and square.

Count me as presumptuous in sending you the book, back cover by
daughter Karen, classmate of your cousin Terry, forward by sister
Kathryn. Son in Law did the cover and niece, Mary Duffin Stasak
typed it all, she is a first rate court reporter. So, it is a family affair.
Please, George and you read the stories then favor me with your
evaluation, good or bad.

I believe Art Wimsatt is George's younger brother, am I correct?
Art was star on my 8th grade basket ball team in the late 40s. I was
a Pioche teacher. Enclosed also is an "ad" and a "news article"
hopefully to appear in the Lincoln County Record on Aug 26 and
Sept 2, sent as information to you. Don't know if you have gone for
publication of a book, in my experience it entails more stress than an
old timer needs and costs a bundle.

At soon to be 93, with thanks to favorable genes and modern
medicine, I am still vertical, driving in heavy traffic if need be,
doing my own cooking and laundry (no enjoyment) and eyeing
lonesome widows, lost two wives, 30 years with each, both from
cancer. Now being pampered by two daughters and enjoying one
granddaughter one great grandson, a sister 91, and a loyal niece and
her husband.

Would love to hear from you.

My Best, Roscoe

And he signed his name in the beautiful script that I remember from
so very long ago. There is something in the distinctive flourish with
which these District Attorneys sign their name. I always love to see
my brother Leo's (Jim) signature on any correspondence I receive.

Words Of Wisdom From A Wise And Spiritual Man. . . .

Lois Stewart Wadsworth and James Allen Wadsworth

Last Sunday was Fast and Testimony meeting. As I sat listening

to the testimonies that were being borne, I couldn't help but reflect

that as people prioritize the things in their life that are of the most

importance, the things that make them the happiest, some of them

list the material things; possessions, trips taken, and events that

give them instant excitement and entertainment. I didn't share

my testimony and that is not a good thing, but I found myself

hoping that I would never lose sight of what a "true testimony"

really is.

I remembered something I had read a few months earlier that

my father wrote at the end of his life history. In this history, he

shared some of the things he had accomplished in his life that he

considered important enough to make a difference in the lives of

his fellow men. I am proud of these accomplishments, but it is

what my father said at the end that touched my heart. His

children, grand children, great grandchildren and great great

grandchildren need to read this. It is a beautiful legacy left by

a truly wise and spiritual man. It follows:

"Now at 77 years of age and my health not too good, I have been

compelled to give up most of my public work. I am not entirely

satisfied with what I have done. Yet I look back over my life's

work and feel that I have few regrets. I can still attend some

meetings and perhaps do a little talking and discussing, and in

this way still keep up with what is going on and still do some good.

I would not have you think that what I have related is what has

been best in my life. Far from it. The greatest thing in my life has

been my wife and our family; the joy, satisfaction, and happiness I

now have with my wife and family, which now gives me

great grandchildren. I am a thorough believer in God and in his

Son, Jesus Christ. I believe that God is the spirit Father of

every man born in this world, that Adam is the Father of all men

in mortality. We were taught and instructed in the Spirit World

by God the Father and Jesus Christ, his Son.

There is definitely a pattern and a purpose in life, which is to

serve God and keep his commandments, that we might grow

and become like Him. When God created Adam "in his own

image". and gave unto him an helpmate (woman Eve), that it

was for the purpose of bringing children "like unto God" into

this world, all of the spirit children of our Father and Mother,

which art in Heaven. The body and spirit perfected consti-

tute the soul of man. When Adam ate of the forbidden fruit

in the Garden of Eden, he became as God, "knowing good from

evil. His eyes were opened". But Adam had disobeyed,

knowing by the commandment of the Lord and sin came into

the world, the greatest of which is death. Up until Adam broke

the first commandment, everything was peace and serenity.

There was now enmity among all the creatures God had

created "to dwell upon the earth."

As men were born upon the earth, they were to do as Adam

did. They were to take unto themselves a wife and bring

children into the world, the greatest blessing, privilege, and

commandment ever given to man. Now, since these children

had been born into a sinful, ignorant, and cruel world, unless

something was done, man would be lost in sin forever. So,

the Father gave His only Begotten Son, "that whosoever

believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting

life." Jesus was crucified and took upon himself the sins of

all mankind; those now born, those who were born before

he came, and those yet to be born, even as many as there

were and are, spirits in heaven.

So, Christ was born, crucified, buried and resurrected so

that these wonderful things could come to us (men); a

resurrection, to come from the grave; to take our sins

away from us; to give us our agency, and to give us the

Gospel of Jesus Christ through which we might work out

our Salvation in his Kingdom.

Now, I firmly believe what I have written above and have

an abiding faith in these things. So, when I took my wife,

I understood what, at least to a certain degree, was my (our)

mission and purpose in this life; to bring children into this

world and to accept all the responsibility belonging thereto.

When I took my sweetheart to be my wife to love, cherish,

and protect, to be the better part of me, to be one with me

through love and sorrow and to furnish her a home filled

with love, to feed and clothe her and the children she gave

me, I entered upon the greatest career, responsibility and

commandment in all of the whole world. The greatest, the

grandest, of most importance in the church, the nation or

in the whole world. I put myself in a position to have more,

and do more, than it is possible to get in any job, position, or

way, to be had in the world."

Taken from "A brief history of James Allen Wadsworth,

son of Nephi John and Eliza Jane Terry Wadsworth"

In an article published in The Church News in August,

1982, celebrating 65 years of marriage for Lois Stewart

and James Allen Wadsworth, Dad said this, "We

respect each other rights, privileges, and ambitions. We

share each other's love, joys, and sorrows."

Dad died less than a year after this article was published

and three years later, Mom went to be with him. I miss

them so much and can not wait to see them again.

How thankful I am that my Father in Heaven loved me

enough to send me to earth to this wonderful couple to

be my earthly parents and that they loved me enough

to bring me into this mortal life, born under the

covenant, and sealed to them throughout eternity.