Dean H Hansen

DEAN H HANSEN
by
Dean Hansen

Birth Date 16 June 1921
Birth Place Hatch, Idaho
Father’s Name Charles (Carl) Glen Hansen
Mother’s Name Rachel Higginson Hansen

I was born in my Grandparents home in the big red house on the hill above Hatch to the north. The house has been moved down into the community of Hatch between the forks of the road. According to Aunt Beth, dad brought my mother there in a buckboard buggy from ten mile pass where they were living at the time. When I was born they handed me to my 14 year old Aunt (Beth). I was fresh in this world and she still talks about it. Mother used to hide me under the covers because I was a blue baby, whatever that was.

My early years that I can remember about were spent in Central at the old family homestead, carrying wood into the kitchen stove, and getting in the middle of dad’s harnesses repairing. At the age of six I was riding the derrick horse putting up hay in the barn, and driving a team and wagon load of grain to the Talmage Mill or elevator following dad with his load.

In the winter the snow got deep and you couldn’t even see the fence posts and I can remember driving our cows down the road to Uncle Charlie Rosedale to water because he had a windmill and the cows couldn’t get away because they couldn’t get off the road the snow was piled along both sides.

DEAN H HANSEN
by
Dean Hansen

Dean H Hansen was born June 16, 1921 at Hatch, Idaho the 2nd child of Charles Glenn Hansen and Rachel Higginson.

I was born at the home of William Y and Sophia Higginson, father and mother of my mother. Grandmother served as mid wife for many babies born in the community traveling by horse and buggy. The old house at Hatch still stands, but in a different location. Dad and mother lived in Central at this time on the old Hansen homestead where we lived until my mothers death in April 1928 by complication of childbirth. There were six children by this time, Donnetta, Dean, Beth, Willis, Vear and Marcene. Marcene was raised by mother’s sister at Bancroft after her birth and the death of my mother.


In recalling childhood events that I can remember and have been told by my dad. He claimed I was in the middle of everything he did. Harness repairing in the winter he didn’t have a minute that I wasn’t trying to do his job. Work in the fields started when I was five years old. He had me driving three head of horses on a riding plow following my mother and her three horses around an 80 acre piece of land, while he worked it down. One time I can remember he was breaking colts and he would catch me every so often and the horses would be breathing down my neck, which I didn’t like and I took my hat off and smacked them, nearly causing a run away which wasn’t appreciated in the lease.

The summer I was five found me riding the derrick horse day after day, and I also drove a team and wagon hauling grain to Talamage Elevators east of Bancroft. There was one hill I was afraid to drive down and in later years looking at the same hill, it didn’t seem like any hill at all.

Dad broke many a horse on the front set of Bobs out in the snow where they could run if they wanted to. Speaking of sleighs, I can still hear the runners squeaking in the snow as they came from the canyons hauling wood.

Dad bought a pinto pony, which was spoiled for me when I was about five. One day he sat me on it and it threw its head in the air striking me in the mouth knocking all my front teeth loose. Mother straitened them up and they grew back solid.

It was a sad day in our lives when we lost our mother who died in the hospital at Soda Springs, Idaho. I was six years old almost seven. It’s hard to believe that I went to the barn, harnessed old Punk and Barney, hitched them to the wagon and drove to the neighbors to get one of their girls to come and stay with us five children. Marcene was only a day or two old and she went to an aunt unexpected to live. Aunt Pearl raised her on goats milk and lots of love.

Dad mentioned in later years that this was the worst thing he ever did, was to give this little girl up, but he wouldn’t let them adopt her, so she is still know as Marcene Hansen on the church records, but Suzie Lewis to her friends and aunts. At the present she is with her husband Lou Alder and he is Mission President of the England, Manchester Mission.
After mother passed away and was buried in Central, Willis and I went to Logan, Utah to live with Grandma Hansen. Donnetta and Beth came to Boise, Idaho and stayed with mother’s brother, Bill Higginson and family and Vear stayed with Grandma Higginson at Bancroft.

During the next year dad married Clara Ellen Plant in the Logan Temple and rented a place in Star, Idaho, west of Boise and we all moved back together again. Every Sunday we would drive in to Boise to the old 2nd ward church. It’s hard to realize that the highways and roads were all gravel or sanded in those days when you look at them now.


Our step-mother was good to her new family and after growing up and realizing the responsibilities I don’t know how she put up with us. She and dad had two children, Norman and Iris, making us 4 boys and 4 girls, which was a joyous bunch knowing many hours of fun and frolics.

Boyhood days in Boise were spent going to church, school and nearly every night horseback riding around the town and in the foot hills around Boise with a group of 5 to 10 boys and girls.

During my High School years I stated buying cattle along with my dad. Before this I would have chickens or rabbits, pigeons or what ever I could get to trade with the boys who I hung around the sales yards with and it was always a great day. Can you imagine five calves for 25 cents or a big hereford cow and her spring calf or $10 per pair or steers fat for 2 and 3 cents a pound. Cattle business and owning a cow ranch was always my
dream or goal which I intended to have some day. Dean Hansen


One of the first big bunches of cattle I bought was at Prairie, Idaho. The fellow called dad and asked if it was alright to sell to me being under the age of twenty-one. His answer was if you beat him more power to you. Not bringing any trucks, hauling cattle those day I hauled the fifty head home in the pickup and trailer a hundred miles each day and made approximately $50 a load. I was really doing great.

During the year I was 20 in 1941, I was buying horses and shipping them to Salt Lake City trading them off and selling the ones I would get for fox feed.

World War II was a big change in our lives. I went to work for the Forest Service back in the Primitive Area on the Salmon River, cleaning trails after 3 month stretch at Boeing Aircraft in Seattle. Maybe I would have stayed, but I couldn’t stand giving the union some of my pay for the privilege of working. While in Seattle, I lived with my sister Donnetta and her husband George DeVoe.

A LETTER WRITTEN HOME DURING WORLD WAR II
by
Dean Hansen

Sept. 21 1942
Platoon #828
Dear Dad,


We just finished holding a testimonial meeting and if any one ever had their testimony of the Gospel strengthened, I did. We started by singing “We Thank Thee Oh God For A Prophet”, then prayer was given. Some of the missionaries started by baring their testimonies. Then others followed. The closing song was “Come, Come, Ye Saints” and then the closing prayer was given. The meeting lasted about an hour and a half and was held in our tent area.

I have many things to be thankful for, first my Heritage and for the Priesthood which I hold, for my Father and the wonderful step Mother that he provided for me, the sweetest person in the world, I know. I will always remember you in my prayers. We have prayer in our tent every night and it really is inspiring. Gives you something to think about. I hope that next time I am home that I will have a testimony so strong that I will be able to stand and bare it to you and the people of the ward. Today during meeting, tears ran down from most everybody. Today I feel more home sick than any other day that I have been here. I guess it is because I would Dean Hansen
have been here. I guess it is because I would have liked
to have been home so I could have attended church and seen my friends. Dad pray not that the Lord spare me from Death, but pray that I might return as pure and clean as when I left. May the Lord bless all of you who remain at home.

Walton feels pretty blue today and he says to tell you hello and that he would write to you soon.


Love and best wishes.

Your son,

Dean

P.S. Dad write and tell me what’s happening at home. The corporal says that we are the best platoon he has ever had. It really makes us feel good. He told a higher officer that we were and the higher officer told us. Pretty good don’t you think. Send me some candy and nuts. . . . . . them here.



WESTERN UNION MESSAGE SENT WHEN DEAN HANSEN WAS WOUNDED


PRA172 79 GOVT=WASHINGTON DC 13 534P
MR CHARLES G HANSEN=
:ROUTE 3 BOISE:
=DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON PRIVATE FIRST CLASS DEAN H HANSEN USMCR WAS WOUNDED IN ACTION 27 JULY 1944 IN THE PERFORMANCE OF HIS DUTY AND SERVICE OF HIS COUNTRY. I REALIZE YOUR GREAT ANXIETY BUT NATURE OF WOUNDS NOT REPORTED AND DELAY IN RECEIPT OF DETAILS MUST BE EXPECTED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY FURNISHED ANY ADDITIONAL INFORMATION RECEIVED TO PREVENT POSSIBLE AID TO OUR ENEMIES DO NO DIVULGE THE NAME OF HIS SHIP OR STATION=
A VANDEGRAFT LIEUT GENERAL USMC COMMANDANT OF THE MARINE CORPS. 27 1944.
Unknown sailor, and Dean Hansen

ARTICLE WRITTEN FOR THE WARD NEWSLETTER
by
Dean Hansen--July-August 1988

Brothers and Sisters:


There comes a time in everyone’s life when we should stop and count our blessings. Thank our Heavenly Father for all our worldly goods, our health, our families, and our love for the Gospel of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I am especially thankful for the priesthood and the power it gives to act in the name of the Lord.

When I received the Holy Ghost, I thought little of it until I was a young man going into the service of our country. It was then I felt the real meaning of prayer, and why I had received the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands by the priesthood. Praying to our Heavenly Father with faith brings the Holy Ghost to action by prompting you. You then know what to do whether it be for protection of decisions you need to make in life.

It is by prayer and faith that I feel I am here today. By listening to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I was told to move while being pinned down by machine gun fire during World War II on Bouganville in the Solomon Islands. Later on in Guam I was told to move, this time I did, but was wounded by a grenade in eighty places. However, my life was spared for greater things to come.

We visited with President Grant before leaving with the Third Mormon Battalion, her told us to pray often and our life would be protected. We followed his counsel.

I have a testimony of the Gospel. I am thankful for the privilege of serving the Parma Ward as ward clerk for the fast nearly eighteen year. We love all of you and those who have called me and my family to serve.

DEAN H HANSEN
by
Deanne Hansen Jefferies

Dad was born June 16, 1921 in Hatch, Idaho to Charles (Carl) and Rachel Higginson Hansen. He was born in his Mother’s parent’s home. The house is still standing but has been moved down into the community of Hatch. Dad’s Grandmother, Sophia Higginson, served as midwife for her daughter when he was born. Dad said that he was born a “blue baby” but he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. One of his cousins told him that his Mother kept him hidden under a blanket because of this.

Dad wrote of a few childhood memories that he had, or things that he had been told by his Dad. I’ll quote from his history.

“Dad claimed I was in the middle of everything he did. Harness repairing in the winter, he didn’t have a minute that I wasn’t trying to do his job. Work in the field started when I was five years old. Dad had me driving three head of horses on a riding plow following my Mother and her three horses around ab 80 acre piece of land, while he worked it down.


The summer I was five found me riding the derrick horse day after day, and I also drove a team and wagon hauling grain to the Talmage Elevators east of Bancroft. There was one hill I was afraid to drive down, and in later years looking at the same hill, it didn’t seem like any hill at all.

Dad broke many a horse on the front set of bobsleds out in the snow where they could run if they wanted to. Speaking of sleighs, I can still her the runners squeaking in the snow as they came from the canyons hauling wood.

Dad bought a pinto pony for me when I was about five. One day he sat me on it and it threw it’s head in the air striking me in the mouth knocking all my front teeth loose. Mother straightened them up and they grew back solid.

It was a sad day in our lives when we lost our mother who died in the hospital at Soda Springs, Idaho. I was six years old, almost seven. It’s hard to believe that I went to the barn, harnessed old Punk and Barney, hitched them to the wagon and drove to the neighbors to get one of their girls to come and stay with us.” End of quote.

Dad had two brothers, Willis and Vear, and three sisters Donnetta, Beth and Marcene, when his mother died. His father farmed out the children to different relatives for about a year. After his father married Clara Plant, the family got back together and moved to Star, Idaho. They then had two more children, Norman and Iris.

Dad always expressed great love and appreciation for his stepmother, Mother Hansen. He said that after growing up and realizing the responsibilities she assumed, he didn’t know how she put up with them. In a letter to his father, Dad called her a “wonderful stepmother. . .the sweetest person in the world.”

While growing up, Dad attended school in Boise and almost every evening went horseback riding in town and in the foothills with a group of friends. During his high school years, he started buying cattle with his dad. His big dream was to be involved in the cattle business and own a big cattle ranch some day. Dad graduated from Boise High School in 1939.

World War II brought big changes into Dad’s life. He enlisted in the United States Marine Corps on September 16, 1942 at the age of 21. He attended boot camp at Camp Pendleton and then shipped out to the Pacific Campaign. He fought in battles on Guadalcanal, Bougainville, and Guam. He was part of a special weapons platoon.


In a letter written to his father he said, “Pray not that the Lord spare me from death, but pray that I might return as pure and clean as when I left.” His experiences on the Marine Corps and the war not only strengthened his love of country but also strengthened his testimony of the gospel. In 1988, Dad wrote in an article in the Parma Ward Newsletter, “When I received the Holy Ghost, I thought little of it until I was young man going into the service of our country. It was then I felt the real meaning of prayer and why I had received the Holy Ghost. . . .By listening to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I was told to move while being pinned down by machine gun fire on Bougainville. In Guam I was prompted to move and as I did, I was wounded by a grenade but my life was spared for greater things to come.”

The first thing Dad said when he was wounded was “I’m going home!” As a result of his wounds, Dad earned the Purple Heart and was honorably discharged from the service.


Dad met Ruth Nelson on a blind date shortly after he had enlisted in the Marines. Grandpa Nelson was reluctant to let his only daughter go on a date with a marine but said OK when he found out that Dad’s father was a bishop. When Dad picked Mom up for the date he handed Grandpa Nelson a girlie book that exploded when he opened it. Then when Mom got into the car, Dad had strategically placed a whoopee cushion for her to sit on. They somehow survived this blind date and were married in the Salt Lake temple on May 16, 1945.

They made their home in Boise and ranched in the Dry Creek area where five of their children, Ronald, Ellen, Donna, Deanne and Debra were born.

In June of 1957, they moved to Parma where Annette and Charles were born. Dad and his brother Willis operated the Hansen Livestock Company. I remember going with Dad on several cattle buying trips to Duck Valley Indian Reservation in Nevada. When his truck would pull up Ruth Mae Nelson many of the Indians would bring their cattle to sell to Dad. They always knew that Dad would give them a fair price. He was known for his honesty in all his business dealings.

Dad was called to be the Parma Ward Clerk in February 1971. He served faithfully in that calling for over 20 years under the direction of five different Bishops, Mel Nielsen, Leonard Weber, Jim smith, Paul Robinson, and Dan Rohrbacher. Anyone who knew Dad, knows how much he loved this calling. When he was released, it was very difficult for him. Dean Hansen on his horse at Parma



Dad’s life-long dream of owning a cattle ranch was realized in 1966 when he purchased the Lazy R Ranch near Sweet, Idaho. He loved cattle drives, fixing fences and just being a cowboy on the ranch. For many years he put on the Parma Ward 24th of July celebration at the ranch. Many of you remember how much fun these were. Dad loved them and worked very hard to make them successful.

On June 29, 1997, Dad’s eternal companion passed away. Mom had suffered many years with diabetes and at the end of her life was diagnosed with cancer. Dad told me many times in the last few months that he just never realized how hard it was going to be to lose Mom. In Mom’s journal that we found after she passed away she had wrote a personal note to each member of her family. Her message to Dad is as follows: “Dean---Love you too. You made all theses precious children possible. I appreciate the things you do to help even though I probably only tell you of the things you don’t do. You are still my special someone. I love you.”

Mom also wrote in her journal that Dad had tears of joy in his eyes when he was ordained a High Priest. Her final entry says, “he is a great man and has good sound judgment and I hope his children will listen to him. I hope he will realize how much influence he has with his family.”

Dad suffered many trials after Mom passed away. . .loneliness, depression, surgery, illness but the ultimate trial came when he lost his dear sweet daughter, Ellen, to cancer. This was really more than he could bear. Dad’s doctor at the VA hospital even feels that he died of a broken heart.

After Ellen passed away I was privileged to spend a week with Dad. It was a wonderful week, just the two of us. We went out to dinner, went grocery shopping, played dominos, cleaned out a few cupboards, but by favorite activity was watching movies for several hours every night. We would just sit on the couch together and I would rub lotion on his feet. Most of the movies we watched together were John Wayne movies. These are the ones Dad loved to watch the most. . .maybe because he was once called “The Duke” (a nickname of John Wayne) of Parma Ward.

Thank you, Dad, for the legacy you left us, your family. We will miss you. I love you.

DEAN H HANSEN
by
Duane G. Woodward

Dean Hansen, I am proud to say is (I won’t say was) my best friend. I never did understand the father-in-law jokes. For me it was leave off the in-law because he was really just a father to me. Dean had a special talent of making everyone feel like they were the special one in his life.

Father, grandfather, patriarch, uncle, husband, brother, carpenter, farmer, furniture builder, practical joker, clown, wagon builder, skilled in leather repair, strong testimony of the gospel, antique collector, dispenser of pink candy horse pills, rides on his horse--Big Red, fisherman, hunter, black licorice, dominos player, horseman, John Wayne movies, World War II veteran, proud Marine, strong moral convictions, patriotic, pillar of strength, always ready to help, great grandfather, generous, security, great vacations, provider, 24th of July Rodeo, friend and cowboy, honest, without guile.


Dean was truly a man without guile. In all my twenty-seven plus years of knowing Dean, I never heard him speak ill of anyone. This was true even when he felt frustrated or bad about something. Dean was a man of integrity.

I Peter 3:10 “From he that loves life and see good day, let him refrain his tongue from evil and his lips that they speak no guile”.

From the first time I net Dean and shock his leather tough hand, I could feel the goodness he had within him.

Dean could be humorous, serious and spiritual. He did everything from putting a note on the sweet rolls in his truck, which read, “I spit on these”, so they wouldn’t be eaten, to a special time I spent with him and my son Shane, when he gave a prayer on the Avenue of Tears at the Mississippi Rivers edge in Nauvoo. He testified that Joseph was a true prophet, that he had to be or all the things that the saints accomplished would never have happened. Then later as we stood at the grave of Joseph, Dean shed tears.

Dean loved history and antiques. Dean and Ruth went on several trips with us and we stopped at every roadside marker and antique shop. We spent as much time turning around and going back to these places as we did going to where we were headed. Kimberly remember her grandpa buying little metal pencil sharpeners on many of these trips. Dean was always thrilled at each site on the Mormon Trail and the journey Chief Joseph took.

Dean use to call me every time he found a new antique from a farm sale. He enjoyed the vacation and trip to Alaska, but most of all he loved Idaho. He sang the song, “And Here We Have Idaho” as we traveled. As we were returning from Alaska, the closer we got to home, the bigger his smile and as we came down the last hill to his home, he shouted “Ya-Hoo”.

The happiest times of my life were when we were on a trip with Dean and Ruth. Dean was on my right and both of us slurping on a 42 ounce drink of Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi with a piece of Beef jerky in our other hand.

Dean loved ginger snaps and his grand daughter Anna learned to love them as much as her grandpa. One time he bought a sack of them just for her. Her sister Rebecca remembers a dollar he slipped to her once in awhile before returning home to Arizona.

Dean was good natured about any situation. Weston remembers that when going to the ranch with his grandpa that all they had to eat was bread and sandwich spread. Grandpa thought that was great that they had that and so they lived on it for 2 or 3 days.


Many of us have fond memories of the ranch, the Crockchank and the Lazy R. Scott Jefferies remembers Dean taking a port-a-potty one night out behind a tree, but he went further around the tree than he thought and placed the pot in plain view so that everyone had a good view of it in daylight. The next morning Scott got up to do his “morning constitutional” and seeing that the port-a potty was in plain view called all his boys to stand around him to keep him from view. Grandpa was just waiting for this opportunity and as soon as Scott settle in, stuck his head out the door and hollered, “Hey, you guys, get over here!” Of course they all scatter at that and left Scott exposed.

Charles remembers going to the ranch with his dad and he said that dad always drove about 20-30 miles per hour, until he hit the gravel roads and then he went about 50-60 miles per hour. Charles also remembers fishing with Dean. Dean taught him how to fish and then never could out fish him.

Even before the ranch, Dean was making trips up to Long Valley in the area of the ranch. One time he was with Donna coming home to the Boise area when she was about five years old, when the brakes with out on the cattle truck. Donna said, “Dad had me stand on the seat beside him and he wrapped his arm around me and said the we may have to jump, so hold on tight. Dad pray all the way down the canyon and we made it down the hill safely”.

Dean was always trading cows and going to the sale yard, sometimes he took me with him. Debbie also remembers her dad taking her to the sale so she wouldn’t have to do housework at home and then letting her walk over to the Kings store in downtown, Caldwell.

I think Dean could buy twenty head of cattle and you wouldn’t even know he was awake.

Dean also put his cattle watering troth to good use for Angela and his other grandchildren remember that sometimes he would fill it with water so they could swim in it.

Dean was not only skilled at buying cows, but Reta claims that he picked her out for Ron. She says, “Grandpa had good taste and I am still amazed to this day how good of a job her did at picking me out!”

The road to Duck Valley, Nevada was well used by Dean, and Deanne remembers going with her dad many time. She says there was always pop and candy and that they would eat at a real cafe. She remembers learning from her dad how to drive through cattle without honking the horn and sleeping in the cattle truck on their trips to the Indian Reservation.

What is a cowboy? It’s being different than anything else. It’s not the dress, it’s not the boots or the hat or the Levis’, it was that special spirit that lived with Dean. Most of all I remember Dean as a cowboy doing what he always wanted. I admire Dean for sticking to his dream and being able to make a good living doing what he enjoyed.

Dean, thank you for being my friend and for the great memories.

DEAN H HANSEN
Compiled by Donna Hansen Woodward

I remember my dad as an unusually great man. Dad was able to do twice as much work as most men and had a good attitude in doing all that he did. Dad particularly liked to help other people and was known for doing kind deeds, but he never really talked about what he did, you’d find out usually from someone else.

My first real memory of my dad was of him helping me fix my dolls hair. I just couldn’t get it to look right and I remember dad holding me and the doll on his lap as he re-combed the ringlets back into place that I had combed out. I also remember it being my birthday one year and climbing on his lap as he told me he had a surprise for me. The surprise was a package of black licorice! Dad always loved black licorice and he use to buy big bags of it and then would bring it home to us kids to devour.


I remember one year in Dry Creek, the day before Christmas, that dad was gone all day. Several times Dean Hansen during the day, I asked mom when daddy would be home. She explained to me that dad had gone by horse back up to Stack Rock, above Boise, to get us a Christmas tree. That was a long day for me, we waited all day and when evening came, daddy still wasn’t home. We went to bed that night not knowing if we would have a Christmas tree or not. Dad and mom didn’t have the money that year to purchase a tree and thus the trip to Stack Rock was made to supply us with a tree. The next morning to the wonder of all of us kids there w as a huge and beautifully trimmed tree that dad and mom had stayed up the night before to decorate for us, just for Christmas morning.

As a child my dad took me on several of his cattle trading trips. When I was seven and under, while we lived in the Dry Creek area, I remember going on several trips to Long Valley, which is north of Boise. We had to travel through some mountain passes coming and going. There were
always treats of pop, candy and sometime comic books. One trip that we made to Long Valley found us with no brakes in the cattle truck when we started down the last, long canyon of winding roads. I remember dad telling me to stand up on the set beside him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he wrapped his arm around me and told me that we may have to jump out of the truck if a car came or if we couldn’t make the winding corners of the road. Dad prayed all the way down the hill and we made it without any mishaps. I’m sure dad’s heart was really racing, but I was calm because I knew my dad would take care of me.


Dad spent many hours coming and going to the Duck Valley, Nevada Indian Reservation to trade cattle. There were very few white men that the Indians trusted, but those they trusted they did a lot of business with. Dad became a friend to many of these Indians and was invited to stay in their homes when he had business in their small community. One year they invited our whole family to come to the Indians 4th of July celebration. Not many whites were ever invited to their special celebrations and so it was a real honor to go. They had many activities going through the day, including foot races for the children. Us kids won every race we ran in that day. In the evening all the older Indians played “Bones”, some kind of game, while other Indians beat the drums or an old log late into the night. One year the Indian Reservation’s only store caught fire and was burned to the ground. I remember after this tragedy that dad collected toys, crates of eggs and garden vegetables to take down to his Indian friends, and as soon as he was in town the word was out that Dean was in town and many of the Indians came to see him. They knew Dean Hansen was a fair and honest man and that he cared about them.

Dad once told me about marching down over the mountains of Bougainvillaea during World War II as a young marine, he witnessed one of the most sad and humbling moments of his life as he viewed the flag of the United States of America flying over the military cemetery of his dead comrades. He said these were young men who had given up their hopes and dreams with their life for freedoms sake. I am grateful that my father was one of those young marines and that he has instilled in me the love of my country with it’s symbol of freedom, the flag, to honor each time I see it flying.

Dad had many war experiences, many that he never told us. Dad never talked about the war to us until we were teens. I guess it took that longer to get over all the horror of it. Dad said that one day while they were moving in on the enemy that he came to a clearing and he heard in his mind to “Stop”. He listened and waited just long enough for another young man to run through the clearing and step on a land mine, which kill him. Dad was very grateful that he was listening to the promptings of the spirit. Another night while his battalion was pinned down under machine gun fire, in a fox hole, he could hear the men next to them fighting and screaming through the night. No one dared raise their heads for fear of losing their life. The next morning when it was safe, they found that their comrades had, had a six foot lizard climb into the fox hole with them and they had killed it.


As a young girl, after moving from Boise to Parma to a A-frame basement house, dad added on to the basement by tearing off the A-frame and building around the original basement. Dad found out that the government owed him some money from being wounded while he was in the military and he decide to use the money to increase the size of our house, which consisted of two small bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom and a laundry room. There were five kids sleeping in one small bedroom at the time with a coal stove to warm the house. It took several years before we actually moved in because dad wanted to wait until everything was finished. He took so long to get to the finishing work, that mom finally moved in one day while he was gone. He said he knew she had moved in when he came home because he could see through the window that every cupboard door was open and every light in the house was on. Dad wasn’t very happy with mom. He said he’d never finish the house since she had moved in before she was ready. Needless to say, it was several years after that he finally put the door knobs on the bedroom doors. I have fond memories of living with unfinished sheet-rock rooms as dad built our house, and to this day an unfinished room brings back the best of feelings. There was a lot of love, sweat and tears put into building such a large home.

After getting married and having all of my children, Duane and I started inviting dad and mom to go with us on a vacation each summer. We met several times in south eastern Idaho and drove to Jackson Hole and the Yellowstone area. Dad and Duane always loved this area. Our first big trip together was when we went back to Nauvoo, Illinois. We took a twelve passenger van with a tent and everything else tied on top. It was quite a circus every night to get everything off and set up. Dad maintained that the load on the top got bigger every day. We had a great time that trip with lots of laughs and good company. We enjoyed Nauvoo and looked up where mom’s and Duane’s passed family members had live while the saints were there. Dad and mom seemed to enjoy every minute of it. There were many other vacations that we shared together. We went to Mount Rushmore, Custer’s Battlefield and Mesa Verte. One year we went to Montana and dug crystals. Dad and mom weren’t sure when we went to dig the crystals whether they wanted to do that or not, but they walked up the trail to see what was going on. The end of the story was that we couldn’t get them to stop digging because they were having such a good time. I think we packed half the mountain of crystals back to Idaho and Utah that year. The year before mom died, we took dad to Alaska with us. Mom had to stay home because of her dialysis’. Dad had always wanted to go to Alaska, but never realized just how far it really was. He said several times, “I never knew it was so many miles to Alaska!” He had a great time while he was there, but couldn’t stop grinning once we headed home. The closer we got to Parma, the happier he was. You know the old saying, “There’s no place like home!” We kidded him many a time on trips about him missing his cows, but this time I think he missed mom. I’m sure that was the longest time they had ever been apart and needless to say, mom was happy to have dad home again.

Dad enjoyed repairing old harness and wagons in his later years and spent many hours restoring these things with great pride. After he restored many of these items, he would sell them to whoever was interested in having them and usually he never made any profit except for the enjoyment he received in working on them.

At dad’s funeral the Marine Corp. came to the cemetery and gave dad a twenty-one gun salute and played taps before removing the flag of the United States of America and presenting it to the family with the shells from the salute being tucked into the flag as a remembrance.