On a More Serious Note:

Preface

When it comes to religion I am not an in-your-face kind of guy. For most of my life I have lived my religion quietly. I don’t put smarmy bumper/window stickers on my car with religious symbols or sayings to prove my devotion.

I accept the reality that there are those who choose to worship differently than I do. They are free to do so, not just because our constitution declares it, but also because it is a right and gift given to us by the very God we worship.

My way of worship does not include tearing down another’s religion or attacking one’s beliefs to prove my faith is truer. I do not see that as a Christ-like way to teach about Him. Unfortunately, my way of worship is constantly under assault by those who act just the opposite of my way. They feel “divinely” justified in ridiculing sacred beliefs and exposing “errors” (as they suppose them to be), in The Book of Mormon.

Refusing to use spiritual discernment to determine the correctness of the Book of Mormon (as Moroni promises in Moroni, 10:4-5), they instead rely on junk science, i.e., mal-applied DNA testing and interpretation, and presumed anachronisms in its text. Their hit-and-run tactics prove they have no interest in the truth, nor a fair explanation. Diatribes rather than dialogues are their preferred method of conversing. (I expect this blog may even bear this out).

My Declaration

To my posterity I solemnly declare the Book of Mormon is true. It is the word of God translated from ancient records maintained by descendants of the tribe of Joseph, which were translated by the gift and power of God through his latter-day prophet, Joseph Smith, Jr.

It is by the power of the Holy Ghost I know this to be the truth. While there may be archeological evidence in these latter days that support the Book of Mormon, my faith is sustained by the un-erring and ever-enduring witness of the Holy Ghost.

A testimony confirmed by the spirit is never provisional. It does not waiver with the opinions of science, or give temporary approval until “something better” comes along, or until ‘error’ is discovered, or doubt is cast by unbelievers. Instead an all omniscient God, seeing all that is to come to pass, quietly assures me of its truthfulness.

It is, therefore, a sequitur that if the Book of Mormon is true, Joseph Smith was a true prophet of God, and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is the divinely restored church of Him whose name it bears. For Christ declared, “Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit.” (3 Nephi 14:17)

Today Thomas S. Monson now stands as the Lord’s duly authorized mouthpiece; a prophet, seer, and revelator to declare the word of God as it is revealed to him. His counselors and the members of the Quorum of the Twelve are true apostles and prophets of God.

I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

How David and Olivia Didn’t Meet

How David and Olivia Didn’t Meet

As I said in “How I Met the Love of My Life” I logged a lot of miles on the western highway in Arizona and California while I was attending school in Tucson. Not too long after Tina and I were engaged, we made a trip to Tijuana, Mexico to meet her parents who were staying there with Tina’s sister, Olivia. It would be my first trip to Tijuana, Mexico in twenty years.

Olivia was working as a bookkeeper as I recall. We went directly there just as soon as we crossed the border. Olivia was delighted to meet me, and was genuinely happy for her little sister, Tina. She struck me as a very pleasant, attractive woman and it soon occurred to me she would be an ideal match for my uncle David.

We spent an hour or so with Olivia and then headed off to her apartment in a very nice ‘colonia’ on the edge of town where we were to meet her parents. There I met Ernestina and Jose Briones for the very first time. It was a pleasant meeting and I was un-expectedly comfortable the entire time, even though I was the only ‘gringo’ around.

I was genuinely impressed with my first encounter with south-of-the-border Mexican hospitality. Not sure how I would be received, I was a little un-settled. But, everyone went out of their way to make me feel welcome and comfortable. (I soon learned that was [is] the Mexican way). To be anything else was considered “mal educado” (bad up-bringing).

Mamá Briones soon had me at the dining table filling my hungry tummy with delightful, tasty Mexican soup and tortillas. I had never tasted any soup so savory, even though my mother was an excellent cook. She just never cooked Mexican food like that! My idea of a tortilla was pretty much of flour. Oh, we had corn tortillas, but back then they tasted like cardboard and were about as stiff and dry. The only thing they had in common with tortillas south of the border was that they were round and flat. After that the resemblance ended. Therefore, flour tortillas were preferable. But, not so that day! Fresh off the ‘placas’ from the local tortillería, these things were hot, supple, moist and oh-so flavorful! They were addicting! For me it was gourmet at its most basic and economical level. Do these people know how good they have it, I wondered? (Little did I know it was a preview of things to come).

Even though I was quite full, Mamá Briones kept insisting I had not eaten enough. She couldn’t understand how I could be full so quickly. Maybe it’s because I was not walking to town and back like they were used to doing. Those calories had to go somewhere! Anyway, it was another thing I soon learned- that when you accept an invitation from a Mexican to eat, be prepared to EAT! These people are not stingy, and will gladly share even their last tortilla with you.

After the meal, I napped while Tina brought Olivia up to date on our plans, and where I had to go before we could get married more than a year hence. Soon, we had to leave and just as we were crossing back over the border, I mentioned to Tina that my uncle David had just been divorced and I thought it was a good idea to introduce him to Olivia. Well, the idea didn’t fly. Unfortunately, according to Tina, Olivia had just been dumped by a boyfriend, and Tina didn’t think it was a good idea to give her false hopes since Olivia was still smarting from the break up. She was still emotionally unsettled and apparently had told Tina so in a previous conversation. I reluctantly let the matter drop.

About 3 months later when I was in Vietnam, Tina sent me a letter stating she thought it would be a good idea to introduce David to Olivia, and what did I think? I was floored! What happened between the time I mentioned it and now? I had to ask. What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Tina had never met David before I had proposed my idea. After she met him and saw his handsome chiseled features and his soft-spoken manner, she knew it would be a big mistake to let this ‘gringo’ get away!

This is as far as my involvement goes. Of course the story doesn't end here, but that part has to be filled in by two other women, and they are Herlinda and Tina. As soon as they make available to me there accounts, I will add them as part two of this title.

How I Met the Love of My Life

Not to long ago my oldest son asked my how I and his mother had met. I was a little taken aback since I thought I had told this story to them before. Nevertheless, it was worth repeating, and therefore worth writing down as I should have done years ago.

If you have been reading my writings in proper order, you will recall I joined the Air Force in 1967. Later that year I received orders transferring me to Japan. It was while I was serving in Japan I received an urgent letter from my sister Ellen asking me to come home to see if I could be helpful in saving our mom and dad’s marriage. I had been in Japan at that time well over a year and a half.

In late October of 1969 I flew home from Japan to see what was wrong at home. I had no idea that my parent’s marriage was in danger. It retrospect it was inevitable the way they fought like cats and dogs.

Upon arriving my dad and I went out to breakfast together, and he told me his side of the story. It was painful to hear, and I must admit I sort of leaned to his side. But that quickly changed. A waitress about my dad’s age had been waiting on us. Apparently she knew my dad as he was a regular customer, I soon learned. As she left the table with our order my dad floored me with a flirting glance at her, and commented, “I wouldn’t mind hooking up with her”. My whole perspective changed, and I realized I was there only as a spectator.

You might wonder why I am bothering to mention these things. Although embarrassing they may be, there is a lesson to be learned here, and I want my children to see it and learn it. It had a lot to do with my approach and attitude for the rest of my leave of duty, and it served as a lesson to me for my own future marriage.

While I was home on leave I decided to go to church and look up some old friends. Most of my closest friends were either in the navy or the air force, but Rick Smith was one who never had to join, so I found him in our old ward. When he learned I could speak a little Japanese, he asked me to help with a young Japanese student at the next YM/YW event. She was staying with an LDS family and could hardly speak English.

The next YM/YW (then called M-Men and Gleaners) activity was a Sadie Hawkins theme dance. It was held at Watkins House on the UCR campus in Riverside. By that time I had already visited this young Japanese girl (Sachiko) at the home she was staying in, where I dined on Japanese food prepared by her. I had also taken her to Disneyland for a day. We got acquainted, but that was the extent of it.

I took Sachiko to the dance, but since she didn’t dance, we sat most of the time.

Beside me were sitting to young ladies chatting away in Spanish. Fortunately, my Spanish was much better than my Japanese, but ever-so rusty. Both of the ladies were attractive, and very friendly. They were bowled over by my ability to speak Spanish. The one girl was named Maria Molina and was from Chile. The other was Tina Briones and was from Mexico.

Maria spoke Spanish at an incredible speed, and I struggled to keep up. Tina was a lot slower and her Spanish was more suited to my style. Unbeknownst to me, Tina had a marvelous revelation at the moment we began speaking in Spanish. She later told me she had come from Mexico in hopes of meeting a decent young man to marry. Fortunately for me, she relied on prayer to guide her thoughts and desires.

She distinctly heard a voice clearly speaking to her mind say, “This is the young man you are looking for!” I thank God to this day for her righteous desires and spiritual way of seeking a mate. Now, I could end the story here, because you really know all you have to know to figure out the rest, but what fun would that be?

The rest of the evening went somewhat oddly. Later, Tina asked me to dance with her. (Lady’s choice) To her complete embarrassment I turned her down! Please do not ask me why, I only know that I did. It was a cultural shock to her, as it was considered rude in her country and culture to deny a young lady a request to dance. Even though I had turned her down, I immediately added I would be more than happy to just sit and chat. Mind you, I was unaware of her revelation, and had no romantic intentions whatsoever. She just had an engaging personality and besides that, I was having fun showing off my linguistic abilities.

Before long Tina told me she needed a ride home after the dance, and who could deny that? However, there was a problem. I also had to take Sachiko home, too. Now this is where the story gets cuter. Sachiko lived farther away from the campus than did Tina. It would have been more practical for me to have taken Tina home first then Sachiko. But it was manipulated by guess-who to work out the other way. As we got into the car, I opened the door for Sachiko to get in and Tina slid in first, which allowed her to sit next to me. I wonder how that happened?

It just seemed to make sense that the one closest to the door would be the first out, so- it was Sachiko who got dropped off first. That left Tina sitting next to me for the balance of the time, and, I might add, she didn’t move over either when Sachiko got out.

Next stop was Tina’s home. Tina was staying with her sister Herlinda and brother-in-law Gary Bowen. They lived on the east side of Riverside on Thornton street quite a ways away from Sachiko’s which was out towards the Magnolia area. Of course this gave us time to talk more and Tina took advantage of it. By the time we arrived at her home I had a pretty good feeling about her. I gave her my APO address in Japan and told her to write.

Before my leave expired I had opportunity to see Tina again. She had mentioned she was enrolled in an English academy and had to walk all the way home when class was over. Gallantly I offered to take her home, since I had nothing better to do. I met her at the academy the next day and was introduced to her teacher Mrs. Reyes. We were then invited to come to her home ((Reyes) and have dinner with her that coming Saturday. For the first time since I was a toddler, I ate genuine Mexican food! Mrs. Reyes complimented me on my Spanish diction, which of course was very flattering.

Tina had to return to Mexico because her U.S. visitors pass was about to expire. While she was in Mexico she went back to the beauty shop where she had been employed since she was seventeen years old and informed the owner, Avilia Cerecer that she intended to quit and return to the United States. Tina was her top beautician and it really upset her. But Tina didn’t care. She was twenty-four years old and at last her life had a purpose and a new focus. Man, this girl was confident!

Two weeks after we parted, I arrived back in Misawa, Japan. On my first day back at the base I went to check my mail box at the base post office. It was stuffed with post cards and letters from Tina. In one letter she had included a very beautiful 3x5 portrait of herself. I put it up on my dorm wall. A couple of days later a young airman of Mexican descent saw the picture and asked, “who is that?” I responded, “Oh, that’s the woman I am going to marry!” I surprised myself when I had said that, because I had never before entertained any such thoughts.

Well, as luck would have it, I received orders to Vietnam the very moment I stepped off of the plane back from my leave. By now it was December in 1969. I went to the base HQ to get my travel orders and so forth, and found I had been diverted to Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson, AZ for something called SEA training. (SEA I found meant south-east Asia). I wondered what it could be the air force had in store for me. What on earth was SEA training all about, and why was I the only one in my group going? At any rate it was a 60-day school, and I just might get to see Tina. As a matter of fact, I made that my objective. So, in advance of the school starting date I took another leave, and left Japan for good in January, 1970.

While I was on leave, I visited Tina and she invited me over for dinner on Sunday after church. Each day I was feeling closer and closer to this attractive and vibrant young woman. It soon became obvious what was going to happen. On a beautiful Saturday morning Tina and I headed off together to spend the day at Disneyland. We had loads of fun running around hand in hand on the various rides and attractions. Afterwards we went to my home to see my parents for awhile. While things were still touchy, my mom and dad had, for the moment, made up and things seemed normal again.

After a short stay it was time to take Tina back home. It was on the way to her home she told me she loved me. Cupid’s arrow had found its mark!

Before I knew it, it was time to report for my schooling in Tucson. As I arrived at base HQ to check in for duty, I had to ask what this training was all about. It was then I was told the training was for those who had not yet worked or been trained on the F-4 Phantom II fighter jet. I just about laughed out loud! Are you kidding? I have been working on that plane for the last two years and am familiar with every weapon and munitions it carries, including nuclear weapons which I loaded many times in Korea! Even though the air force would never admit a mistake like that, or care to rectify it, I decided to keep silent about it, just in case someone would try to fast-track me on to Vietnam.

It took me a while to realize that something else was involved here. The inadvertent error had given Tina and me time to become more acquainted. In fact, it was during this time we became engaged to be married. On Friday’s school let out before lunch. I already had my car parked in the lot outside the school room door packed with whatever I would need for the week-end in Riverside. When dismissed, I jumped into the car and headed for the I-10. It was a 450-mile jaunt from Tucson to Riverside, and I could do it in less than 7 hours. Of course that meant I had to travel close to and average better than 75 mph. Actually, 80 was more like what I did!

During the week of February 14th, Sears was having a special on diamonds and rings. My mother let me charge to her Sears credit card a diamond ring I had found in the Tucson store. That weekend I officially asked Tina to be my bride. It was a humble ring, but it meant everything to her. We set a date for as soon as I came back from Vietnam, and of course, we wanted to be married in the Los Angeles Temple.

Our week-ends were jammed with fun things to do. We would go to the mountains, drag races, and church. After Sacrament meeting (then held in the evening), I would reluctantly mount up again in my car for the return trip to Tucson, arriving just in time to catch a couple of hours sleep before school. This went on for weeks. When I couldn’t afford the gasoline to California, I would pawn my camera lenses at the local pawn shop. Often, other airmen, who knew what I was doing, would ask to go along so they could catch a flight in LA and save on airfare to Washington where we shipped out for Vietnam. They bought the gasoline and I got to see Tina!

After my one-year tour in Vietnam, I returned home to my sweetheart and we were married April 8th, 1971 in the Los Angeles Temple. It was a really small and quiet occasion. Only Gary and Herlinda went with us to the temple that day. I remember the sealer had to go to the Celestial room to find us a second witness. A young man who was preparing to go on a Spanish-speaking mission had just taken out his own endowments. His name was Elder Diaz. Isn’t that funny? I’ll bet he never dreamed when he left home on that day that he would not only receive his own endowments, but witness a sealing as well!

Looking back it is easy to see the Lord’s hand in our lives. How was it I came to California all the way from Japan for that first meeting at the dance? And how was it at the same time she came all the way from Mexico just to visit her sister upon her invitation? Why did the air force screw up only my orders in Japan and send me to train on a plane I already knew? Too many things fell into place to believe it was chance, especially when my wife had that clear voice telling her the search was over.

Not enough people believe that God knows us personally and cares about us. But I testify to all and to my children He does know us and He can and will lead us to happiness if we just let Him and live our lives worthily to be so led.

Homes and Friends of My Youth Part II

Homes and Friends of My Youth-Part II

I left you way back in 2006 when I wrote we had to move to Riverside County. My father had found a job working for Northrop Aircraft at Ontario Airport.

It was a typical post war job during the Eisenhower administration which paid very little money. The country was not at war, and Northrop was not making any warplanes, so money was tight.

We lived in a rental home in a rural community called Mira Loma. Our house was on Troth street, just a few hundred feet from the crystal clear waters of the Santa Ana River. (Now, of course it isn’t so clear.) In the heat of the day we could traipse down to the river and cool ourselves off in the sandy dykes that held large pools of water and minnow fish.

Mira Loma was hot, sandy and scary. I was used to concrete curbs and gutters, and most of all, street lights that kept the moonless nights from closing in around you. Mira Loma had none of these. Worst of all, there was no Leon! I cannot remember having any friends in Mira Loma. My life was tragic.

Next door to us lived an elderly couple who were our landlords. Knute Anderson was the old man and he had a 17 year old son named Stanley. Stanley had a terminal disease, and died sometime after we moved away. I remember going to the funeral.

About all I can remember about that home was my aunt Delores staying with us for a time, but I am not sure why. Aunt Del was very sweet to me, and she was very beautiful.

One day while I was walking home from school, I saw my two uncles who had loaned a car to my Dad speeding away from the house. As I can best remember we had an old 1946 Mercury Sedan that had to have the engine rebuilt. My uncle Harold loaned him his car while the Merc was down. Anyway, they went roaring down the street passing by me all the while shaking their fist at my Dad and calling him very bad names I cannot repeat here. My dad would never tell me what it was all about.

I later learned at my dad’s funeral from one of the two uncles that there was a dispute over how my dad had failed to take proper care of the car. I think the radiator was low on water, or something like that. Evenso, the behavior was unwarranted, and my dad never seemed to get along with them after that.

The uncle who confessed this to me was telling me in a moment of contrition, admitting he had felt bad about this and other incidents as well. I was touched by his tender feelings as I had always believed they never much cared for my dad. I know the feeling was mutual on my dad’s part. He had a temper, too, which often led to clashes with the uncles.

Be that as it may, I feel I must hasten to add that in time of need in the later years, my uncles always pitched in to help my dad out with his recurring transportation problems. My uncles Kenneth and David in one single week-end rebuilt the automatic transmission in my dad's old '52 Pontiac station wagon. I can still remember it clearly. David was in a big hurry to get it finished and got the others snapping at him. Well, David had a date, could you blame him? Time was running out. They did it in the parking lot where they lived in Compton in a place called Victory Park. They lived on S. Coral.

Anyway, back to Miral Loma…. In the summer of that year (1953?) my mom and dad found a small two-bedroom home on Avon street in a neighboring community called Glen Avon. It had a half-acre of land with it and we soon settled down into raising chickens, goats, rabbits, and even a pig. I would help my dad butcher the rabbits and chickens and we stored the meat in a rented freezer locker in Rubidoux. We ate rabbit meat for years and drank goats milk. Oh, and the pig was butchered for us and we ate that pig for months!

It turns out our house was an old army dormitory that had been brought in from somewhere in the county and converted to a house. Most everything in it was handmade by either my dad or uncle Orson. I remember my uncle bringing over his table saw and in one weekend he and dad knocked out an entire set of kitchen cabinets and hung them in the kitchen. I was so proud of my dad and those cabinets. My dad suspended shiny chains from our living room ceiling and hung bookshelves on them on a trapeze-like system.

We always had septic tank problems, so to alleviate the problems my dad dug drainage trenches throughout the yard. You could hardly get away with doing something like that these days, and truthfully I am not sure how we did then.

Anyway, these trenches were always wet with grey water, and had mosquito larvae or whatever wiggling around in them. It was gross! One day my cousin Dennis was staying with us, and he went out into the backyard to play. He wasn’t more than three or four years old as I recall. He approached one of these nasty ditches which was about two feet deep to peer into it and see what it was. Suddenly our billy goat lunged at him from behind and butted him squarely into the ditch. Poor Dennis came up crying, sputtering and spewing that nasty stuff out of his mouth! I nearly puked at the smell and sight and thought of it all.

About the time my parents bought this house, my grandparents bought a farm on Mission Blvd just about a mile or so away from us. That meant, of course, Leon was nearby and life was grand again! The farm was a child’s paradise. Not only did it have cows and pigs and tractors and electric fences, it had huge granite rocks to play on and a large pond in which we would go swimming. The pond was next to a long row of huge eucalyptus trees from which was suspended a long thick rope that you could swing on way out over the water in the pond. It was exhilarating, and terrifying all at once!

In the pond were crawdads we would capture and do mean things to them or with them. Once we let one clamp its pincers to the wire on the electric fence and laughed hysterically when the electrical jolt knocked the ugly critter off the fence. Another time we put one on the end of a pigs nose. The poor thing squealed with pain and the crawdad had enough strength to cut into the flesh on the poor pig’s snout. Yeah..we were brats!

Leon and I one day thought it would be fun to see the chickens fly. We grabbed a few and tossed them as high into the air as high as we could, whereupon they furiously beat their wings to save themselves from utter disaster. I am pretty sure this shenanigan netted us another tanning to our backsides. We didn’t know at first how they had known what we had done until we noticed at least one layer hobbling around on a broken leg. We deserved every lick of that belting!

Leon, it seems kept at his shenanigans when I was not around. He did not need me to get into trouble. One day he decided the cat’s kittens needed to be laundered. So he grabbed grandma’s washboard and stuck it in a briny water solution sitting in a recently used wooden ice-cream maker. He dutifully dunked each kitten into the solution and proceed to scrub the life out of them, literally. He rinsed them, again and again in that briny solution until he pronounced them clean. (And dead). Do you think these furry and feathered little critters will be there to witness against us in the next life?

We lived in that house on Avon street until 1959. My best friend lived up the street. His name was Jimmy Wyly. We were very close friends until high school. I lost track of him afterwards.

Jimmy was a Catholic boy of Irish decent. Both his mother and father had a disgusting habit of being heavy smokers, and they both cursed loudly taking the Lord's name in vain. His father was a hunter and it seemed he was gone all the time hunting. Jimmy’s mother, Dorothy, would later die from a terrible disease called liver cancer. He also had several brothers and at least two sisters who all slept in one huge bedroom which was once their garage. They totaled ten kids in all. (I said they were Catholics!)

Jimmy and I were in the same school classes in grammar school until about the fifth grade when they began to separate us according to level of achievement. I ended up with the high achievers, and Jimmy was with the lesser ones. I couldn’t care less about that, he was still my good bud for years. His weakness, as I recall was reading. I excelled at reading, and of course that made all the difference in my education.

Behind our house on Avon street lived the Morrison boys whom I played with a lot, or when Jimmy wasn’t around. The Morrison boys had a deaf father and a short, shy Mexican mother who looked worn out from the boys antics. They grew up to be delinquents.

Like I said, we hung together for a few years until the boys began their catechism lessons. Then they began to berate me for being Mormon. My mom called an end to all that and I never played with them after that. The last time I saw them a police car was in pursuit of a stolen vehicle they were driving.

Across the street lived two little toe heads named Charlotte and Elaine Braun. Mr. Braun owned a dairy down the street and around the corner. I think the girls were German or Swedes and I thought they were the cutest things around. I had a crush on Elaine. So, I played with them for quite some time. We would often go down to the dairy and play in the mucky pond water capturing pollywogs.They never went to our school. Papa had money so he sent them to the local Catholic school. Bummer!

While we lived on Avon street, my second sister Claudia was born in 1957. Around that time my grandfather Baguley was diagnosed with colon cancer. After failed attempts to rid himself of it holistically, he finally agreed to go under the knife at the City of Hope Hospital in L.A. He convalesced in our home for several weeks, and it was really special to me. I think that was one of the highlights of my mother’s relationship with her father.

Speaking of grandparents, I was always closest to my grandparents Baguley in my early youth, mainly because they were always around.

My grandparents Harrington, however, lived in Spokane, Washington, and I got to see them only on rare occasion. Then, one day my dad told us they were coming to live with us. In a week or so a huge tow truck showed up in front of our house with a trailer behind it. It was my grandparent’s trailer, and it was going to be parked in our backyard! I don’t remember how long they lived back there, but it was sure neat to go visit my grandparents in their trailer. Later they moved just down the road to a mobile home park that was just built on the corner of Pyrite and Mission Blvd. right next to my school!

I don’t quite remember what was the reason, but in 1959 my parents decided they needed a bigger house, and an elderly couple in our church needed to get rid of theirs quickly because the old man was too sick to care for it. We went to look at it, and I thought we had stepped out of the Podunk side of town and entered the real world.

The homes were in a recently-built tract near Highway 60. It had raised hardwood floors, hardwood cabinets, a separate dining room and real stucco exterior! Best of all it had three bedrooms and one and half baths. To top it off, it had an attached two-car garage! All the surrounding homes were similar in construction, with neatly manicured lawns and real paved driveways. It was like a dream to me! The kids playing in their yards did not look like poor little waifs. I could hardly wait to make the move. All was needed was the financing.

To Be Continued in Part III