I'm not sure our current activity is an addiction, but it's pretty close. We're addicted to two television shows: The Generations Project hosted by BYUTV and Who Do You Think You Are on NBC. Both shows have, basically, the same theme; they're about roots, genealogy, ancestry. The NBC show features family origins of celebrities; BYU's stars are every day Joes, all of whom are seeking the answers to their own life puzzles through their family history. In both shows, the conclusion most often drawn is that we are each the sum of all of the generations of people who have gone before us! I, like so many inexperienced amateur genealogists, wanted to find a link that would show that we were related to famous people!! No such luck. I've found a moonshiner, a polygamist, a federal prisoner, and a ne'er-do-well Indian scout, but no blue blood! Tom's maternal line is filled to the brim with blue blood, however. I've begun more and more to link personalities, traits, hobbies, etc. of current family members to their ancestors.

Take, for instance, Tom's enjoyment and crafting of the rock wall around our home! It is a dry-stack wall which he's built around our property. Hours spent at the quarry selecting, loading, and hauling were hours of enjoyment for Tom! Of Tom's second great grand uncle, William Hamilton, it is said: "Mr. Hamilton was a lowland Scotsman...His stone residence was an eye-opener to his generation at East Lake [Nova Scotia] whilst his neat, skillful and enduring stone fences are subjects of commendatary remark to this day. His labours at the Lake, even at this distance of time, give evidence of care, skill, taste, neatness and intelligent industry."

Disgruntled with your nose, ears, frizzy hair, etc, etc? Instead of blaming your parents, you might want to look even further back--generations!! After a long search, I came across this fellow. His surname is Whitby; he lived in England, and he is not directly related to anyone in my Whitby line. Notice any resemblance to my dad, whose picture is in my previous post, or my grandson, TJ? The old saw, "He has his grandpa's chin could as well be said, "He has his tenth great-grandpa's this and that."

As well as looks and personality traits, our ancestors were products of their times as well as their environments. Our daughter, Marie, is an avid couponer and food storage buff. In every cabinet, under most beds in her house, everywhere there's any space, Marie has food stored for that inevitable rainy day. My mother was in a nursing home for several years before her death. As we cleared out her dresser, we found it full of empty canning jars. Her caregiver winked and said, "She said that when she got well enough, she needed to get started on her winter canning!"

This blog doesn't do justice to the thoughts I have about this subject. In a few days, I'll turn 60++++, and I'm definitely asking, "What have I done with my life? What must I still do?" I am the product of all generations who've gone before me, and, for good or bad, there will be parts of me in all generations who follow me. Sobering thought on this hot July morning. I yam what I yam, according to the Popeye philosophy, but I want to be the best of what I yam!! Genealogy and family history research is a fun, addictive, and relatively safe hobby that may answer for us that question: Who do You Think You Are?

Love to one and all!! Mom

On Fatherhood

I find it difficult to write about Father's Day and one's father without writing in cliches and over-writing a tribute. My father, Grant L. Whitby, has been gone for 24 years, almost to the day. He died alone in his grubby little apartment. I've always felt sad, and a bit guilty, when I think of the event because no family with him when he passed. He had been lonely for a long time. It's easy to say that his loneliness had been brought on by his own poor choices, but now that I'm older than he was when he died, and I'm living with some of my poor choices, health-wise, I have a different view of my dad's life. Daddy was a product of the Great Depression, of a hard-scrabble farm life in southern Idaho, of an elderly father, and a strict religious upbringing. I think of him as the epitome of the old war song: "How Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm (After They've Seen Paree)?" Leaving his home to work in the CCC's, Daddy returned very rarely usually to attend the funerals of his mother and brother. He was of a generation that sometimes thought a real man didn't cry nor publically embrace or show emotion to his children. He indulged in the kind of life he'd been forbidden: alcohol, tobacco, gambling, etc. He later paid the price of his indulgence: a divorce, a somewhat "uncomfortable" relationship with his children, bankruptcy, and alienation from some of his friends. The death of our brother, Joe, in Viet nam in 1965 was a pivotal time for Daddy. After floating around in the depths of despair, he finally got a grip!! He stopped drinking and joined AA, and he saved enough money to lease his own barber shop. Tragically, he suffered a debilitating stroke, and AA meetings and companionship with his friends from AA became his way of life. He drove an old, "beater" car one handed and thought nothing of heading out on icy roads to go to a meeting or to mentor an AA friend in need.


In spite of his frailties/weaknesses, he was a good father. From my dad, I learned the importance of an education. Not necessarily a college education, that was my mom's mantra, but being self-educated, a lifelong learner. My father never finished school, but he read constantly and loved to discuss/argue about almost any topic. He especially loved and devoured any college textbooks I brought home. I also gained my testimony of the truthfulness of the doctrinal teachings of the Mormon Church from my dad. He was what is called a Jack Mormon in church parlance. He believed in the church, had a strong testimony of its doctrine and principles but kept himself alienated from church attendance and participation because of his personal habits. He constantly challenged my testimony by asking me hard doctrinal questions and wanting "proof." In stubbornly seeking proof for my dad, through scripture study and fervent prayer, I gained my own strong testimony. My dad had some hobbies and interests which would show themselves occasionally. He kept our lawn beautifully mowed and manicured. When we moved into our home in about 1954, Daddy fought sagebrush and sand to put in a lawn, which he had to re-seed three times. My mother had a huge plant in the front yard which had overtaken the view from the window, so she wanted it taken down. Daddy attacked it with zest for weeks, finally having to use a small saw on the huge root. Years later, we found out that the plant was a poisonous variety called a castor bean plant. One winter, he was out of work for the winter and driving my mom crazy, so she taught him to crochet. He made a number of afghans, vests, and doilies. He also loved to play the banjo and the harmonica. Just recently, I received this wonderful picture of my grandson, following in his great-grandpa's footsteps! My dad would have been so thrilled. I appreciate, now, my father's life...knowing now that he had to work very, very hard to conquer his personal demons. Particularly, knowing that, in the end, he was able to do so. In all of the turmoil and chaos of my early years, I never doubted my father's love for me. He was very proud of his children. My brother served honorably and unselfishly in the Marine Corps, and my sister and I were school teachers, wives, mothers, of which he was very proud and would brag about to everyone.
This blog is intended to be a small tribute to my dad, but I can't really NOT comment, on Father's Day about the father of my children! My husband is, not at all, the kind of father I had. In trying to sum up what kind of father he is, I think it's safe to say that his mantra is: If the kids need this to help them grow and be happy and safe and secure, we'll sacrifice whatever we have to make it happen. In summing up what my children think of their father, I would repeat what is written on almost every letter, note, phone call, Tom receives: Throughout my life, you have always been there for me, Dad. DITTO FROM ME.


Love and hugs and warm thoughts on this cloudy summer morning.

WHO'D HAVE THOUGHT

The world wide web is filled with millions of commentaries and thoughts about marriage. But, truly, the loudest comment on marriage is longevity, so I think I have a right to make a few comments since I've been married forty years today. I fell in love with Tom the minute I saw him peek through my living room window as he rang my doorbell for the first time forty years ago. I'm not so sure that it was so much that I loved him; it was that he loved me, treated me as if I were the most important person in the world from our first meeting. I was 28 years old, and I hadn't had any man take me seriously, so I was in love with love!! Our first date was attendance at a BYU educational seminar in Tacoma, followed by a walk through Point Defiance Park in Tacoma, a movie, and root beer floats while we sat in Doug's T-bird convertible. We didn't discuss marriage; I don't even know what we discussed, but neither of us can remember the movie we saw. When he'd gone home, I called my best friend to share details and my conviction that we'd marry even though he hadn't asked. The next day, my "best" friend met Tom in the hallway of the church. I wasn't there. Knowing my comments on marriage were merely fantasies, she said, sweetly, "I understand congratulations are in order." Ugh...Tom, taken aback, thought to himself, "If it is within my power, I will never let another person hurt Julie again." And, he never has!!
I was lectured by friends at first; he had lots of strikes against him:

1. He was "older." 32 to be exact.

2. He'd been married before. To a strikingly beautiful woman

3. He had a son. An eight year old living with his mom in Texas.

4. He was broke. Boy was he broke!!

5. He was inactive in the church. He was working three jobs at the time but quit one so he could teach a Sunday School class.

I didn't care about any of that!! I was in love. I drove my mom and sister absolutely crazy with frequent phone calls extolling the virtues of this wonderful man. We met in March and were married in June. 40 years ago in the Idaho Falls temple of the Mormon Church.

I am still in love with love, and, coincidentally with this fine, upright, good man who

works every day to make sure that I will not be hurt. We're best friends, bosom buddies, soul mates...all the cliches in the book. We're so accustomed to each other that we complete one another's sentences, and, more than not, assume that what we like or think is what he/she likes or thinks. Here's to another forty years and on into eternity.

THORRY, MARIE

In my last post, I left out some of my children!! In defense of my blub, I was

trying too hard to get the blog done before church. So....I want, first and foremost, to correct that omission. We have a "daughter" and son-in-law who are very dear to us. They live in Saudi Arabia until Kevin's retirement which is soon; then they'll be in Arizona. Marie and her family are in Oxnard, California and are filling in their days until their Daddy returns from deployment.

My omission brought me a bit of teasing from Marie, it also brought back memories of the feelings that are so often brought to the surface when we are left out, ignored, or unappreciated. Most often, such incidents are not at all intentional, and some are hilarious to recall when we've recovered enough to accept them for what they really are, but they still leave an impression. Steve brought into the family an expression which makes the distinction between sins of commission--I meant to hurt you by my actions, and sins of omission--unintentional slights or slights meant to tease. He had been teasing Marie about a new boyfriend, and, when I demanded that he apologize, he said, "Thorry, Marie." Thorry is our code word for I'm only teasing or that wasn't intentional. On Mother's Day, I listened to a one-sided conversation between Tom and his mother. Grandma was gushing about a wonderful poem which our daughter, Susan, had written for her, sent in her card for Mother's Day. I can't describe the jealousy that pricked my heart, thinking that Susan had written a poem for her grandmother and not for me. Trying to hide my wounded pride, I wrote to Susan, asking for a copy of the poem. Susan's response was: "She must have read you the poem that was in the card. I didn't write it, but it was beautiful. It reminded me of the bonds between us women, that's why I chose the card for her." So much for feelings of anger. (PS. I hope no one will EVER tell Grandma Kennedy of this; she still thinks Susan wrote the poem in the card. Please, please don't ever tell her, even in jest!) On another occasion, years ago, a case of mistaken identity caused some consternation for one of my friends. She called to ask me for a private conversation, and I could tell that she was very upset. She explained how much she loved me, wouldn't hurt me for anything in the world, etc., etc. BUT, she could no longer live with the anger she was feeling towards me and wanted to get her animosity off her chest. I was dumbstruck!! What on earth was she talking about? They had been in the Tri-Cities...in a Costco store, and she'd seen me with....my new man!! After all I'd said about my deep and abiding love for Tom, how could I be carrying on an affair??!! You guessed it...she had seen my twin sister and her husband!! Oh the memories!!

Life is busy in our corner of the world. Tom is back in his element. He calls my sewing room my sanctuary, and his sanctuary is the yard, the woods, and his daily "stuff" outside. He's now free to roam in his sanctuary, and he couldn't be happier. Vale's days as an eighth grader are numbered: seven to be exact. This weekend, we celebrated Springfest, our community's local event. Notice Vale tooting his clarinet? He's the tallest kid in the band, which is a 5-8th grade group, and he's tallest in the school. He's helped his height along with some innersoles he found--two in each shoe--but who's telling? He was voted the Eighth Grader with the Best Hair!! Life isn't much fun if there aren't a few thorries to spice it up!! Love to All. Mom

I'll Try Again

I've neglected my blog for five months and haven't really missed the experience. Except that an inner voice has been nagging at me to do some writing and blogging. After all, my blogs and my daily emails to my twin sister are my journal. They are the written legacy that I'll leave behind for my posterity to peruse to get a glimpse of who I was/am. Neither my blogs nor my daily emails are great literature full of profound thoughts. Today's email topic, for instance, was a riveting account of the difficulty I'm having picking the colors for a lap quilt for my mother-in-law. So here goes...
I left the blogger world when Tom had arthroscopic surgery on his right shoulder in February. We're new to the world of illnesses and injuries, so we weren't quite prepared for all that recovery entails. Adding to the woe was an injury he suffered two days after surgery...a fall in which he landed on his left shoulder!! My most perilous times during the recovery revolved around the fact that I had to be the family chauffeur...in the snow...in Tom's beloved pickup....Ugh. The upside of this period is that it's over, and that Tom spent time to rest, read, and to work on his personal history. He also discovered two wonderful television series: Who Do You Think You Are and The Generations Project (BYU tv..Monday nights) which are about genealogy and tracing ones roots, so we're setting his computer up so he can do just that.

Vale's had a good winter. Besides his clarinet, Vale has taken up the acoustic and electric guitar and is participating in jazz band. Basketball was the highlight of his winter. I've forgotten now their team's win/loss record, but they did well. Low grades kept Vale out of track, but he's gearing up now for high school football. He will be staying with us for his high school years, which, seems to us, to be a good decision. A small school affords many more opportunities to participate in sports, music productions, and special classes. Vale's especially excited about a Robotics program at Columbia High.

I'm still doing what Vale calls "Grandma things." I've been quilting, doing genealogy, and working a small part-time job as a data entry operator. Spiritually, I think I've really re-inforced my belief in the value of constant, daily prayer, even in the most mundane aspects of my life. There's comfort in prayer, peace, calm. I'm a facebook addict, and I'm pleasantly surprised by the number of prayer requests made on facebook. I seem to have opportunities all day long to pray for someone else, a complete stranger, often a nameless person. It's nice to know that there are many, all over the globe, who believe in the power of a heartfelt prayer to a loving Heavenly Father.

A quilt for Kobe...Brenna's is underway.

We're grateful for our sweet family.

Mark and his daughters.

The new Darla after a 145 pound weight loss
















Susan's family is growing up.

Steve (upper left) doing manuvers

Tom on his way back to Maine to see his boys.

All is well here. The Columbia River is rising, but we're high and dry on Strawberry Mountain. Love to All, Mom

In one of my recent emails to my sister, I presented the truth that our life these days revolves around Vale's schedule--not ours. Vale is a fair student; he has all the smarts and talent to be a straight A student, but he has many other interests: video games, writing scripts and making movies for youtube, his electric guitar, and sports. Right now, the sport is basketball. He doesn't know all the intricacies of the game, but he can leap down the court in about four giant steps; he knows his position is under the basket, and he knows how to rebound. Vale hasn't played organized basketball since third grade, so he's on the Blended/JV team. They've had two games and skunked their opponents both times. In the last game, Vale had four baskets.

As to the rest of the family, we're aging at the appropriate rate and are still enjoying our senior citizen status. Tom fell on the ice a few months ago and hasn't been able to do all of his favorite projects. The fall stirred up something in his shoulder and ice packs, therapy, and strength-building three-times-a-day exercises haven't seemed to be effective, so this week, he gets to start the MRI/specialist routine to see what the next step will be. Tom, being the family worker bee, has voluntarily become our housekeeper and keeps the house neat as a pin. In addition to being Vale's chauffeur, homework monitor, housekeeper, cook, etc, etc, I have also become Darla's employee in her home medical billing business. I like being able to work at 3am in my pajamas and fuzzy slippers if I see fit, and I like the little nest egg I'm building for my old age. Astro is still chasing birds and squirrels, but they're all wise to him and don't take him too seriously.

Besides our immediate family, the other children seem to be doing well. The grandchildren and great-grandchildren are growing up in spite of our desires to keep them little and cute and innocent just a little longer. The adults have active busy lives. Grandma is hanging in there. All is well...all is well. Love to You All...Mom

We've lost Baby Jesus!! We've looked in every bin, tote, dilapidated box, and closet shelf, and He's nowhere to be found. It's not that we have no nativity sets; we have six or seven. Alas, the Baby Jesus we're looking for belongs to a large set that's to be our window display this year. The three kings kneel reverently, offering their gifts to...the floor. Mary and Joseph sit looking adoringly down at...empty space. Tom says it's a sign!! A poignant Christmas message..a parable.. about forgetting Christ in Christmas
It is a commentary that we feel such a loss. It's really just a plastic replica...a THING...after all. We have firm testimonies of the presence and reality of Christ in our lives. We try to emulate His teachings and practices. Yet, we're experiencing a rather traumatic vagueness about all of our other preparations. Our trees are up, but the other decorations are scattered here and there throughout the house, waiting to be arranged, polished, hung, USED. It's December 20, and I'm just now writing my Christmas letter. I HOPE I'll have my Christmas gift packages in the mail today...as long as there are 54 hours between now and the mailman's arrival at 5 I should make it.
Vale, our grandson, spent time helping me try to get my mojo on before he flew home to be with his mom for Christmas. We made lots of Christmas candy for the packages. We've made at least two broiler pan batches of fudge, which have already disappeared and not into Christmas boxes!!
We have a substitute! Since we thoughtlessly placed the Nativity set in the very spot our dog, Astro, calls his, we find that he has taken up a lonely vigil in Baby Jesus' spot. He's looking too!
Our year has been somewhat in keeping with the restlessness of our days without the Baby Jesus where he belongs!! We've had lots of ups and downs, highs and lows this year. Nothing specific, traumatic, or terrible...just life-changing. We'd settled into a retirement life of service, church and community, remodeling, genealogy, quilting, visiting. Nice, comfortable...Ho hum. Then, we received this subtle little email: Hey Mom. So, we just found out that the housing that we want to get in to...is pet free. No Astro. Of course Harmony is devastated. Christy can't take him because she already has 3 dogs. What would you guys think about taking him? I know Dad was at one point thinking about getting a dog. Anyway, no pressure, just let us know what you think ok? How could we resist?? A dog after all these years! He's a Corgi...a herd dog who herds Tom everywhere, including the bathroom. A few weeks later, our grandson, Vale, took up residence with us so he can spend his eighth grade year in White Salmon. My oh my!! We'd put homework, music practice time, video games, eighth grade angst, zits, sports, etc, etc completely out of our minds years ago. Now, they're back. We need that missing Baby where he belongs!!
We hope all is well with all of you!! We have loved and appreciated friends and family all year long through visits, emails, facebook entries, and phone calls. We're happy and reasonably healthy, and...at 3am this morning, while I was setting out our Christmas village, I found the little Nativity piece way down in the corner of a bin....Ahhh...I placed Him reverently and ceremoniously into His spot and remembered the phrase: Wise Men Still Seek Him. Oh that we'll be wise and always seek Christ's presence in our lives!! Love to All. Happy Holidays.