"Decoration Day"

"We went up home on Decoration Day and put flowers on the graves,"my Aunt Edith would write in her letter. I never understood why she called it "Decoration Day." It was "Memorial Day" to me.

As I've gotten older, and moved closer to where my ancestors are buried, I now understand "Decoration Day." This year as I went "home" and drove my parents to the cemeteries to decorate the graves, I realized that before long it would be my responsibility to ensure the graves of my grandparents, great-grandparents, and other relatives had flowers on their headstones just in time for Memorial Day. I'd buy bright yellow mums and make sure I had enough metal hangers from the dry cleaners to ensure that I could fashion hooks to anchor the pots to the ground so when the wind blew they wouldn't tip over. And I'd hope that it hadn't rained recently so the roads were drivable up to the Porterville Cemetery.

I've spent the last three years immersed in doing family history research. So when I visit graves for Decoration Day, I have a greater sense of respect and awe for these people. Decorating their graves once a year is a simple sign of our admiration and love.

Croydon Cemetery

However, the last Monday in May will always be "Memorial Day" to me. Memorial Day conjures up memories of going up Crystal Creek to have a Thackeray family picnic. We had a long black grill with a honeycomb grate on top. You would crank the handle and it would lift up so you could fill it with briquettes. On it we would cook our hamburgers. We would eat them along with the other yummy food that the aunts would fix, including Aunt Barbara's taco salad. Afterwards we would play a game of softball in the clearing. The men would sit around talking "ranch." It would drive my dad crazy. Couldn't we get together and talk about something besides work?

Early Thackeray Women

I asked my Mom when picnics at Crystal Creek started. She said she didn't know-- but before she and my dad arrived in the late 60's. It was Thackeray family tradition. Memorial Day and Labor Day at Crystal Creek and the 4th of July at Aunt Jane's. I don't think we realized how good we had it. Our own campground, on our own property, nestled among the pine trees. we even had our own rock that the cousins painted a large white "T" on as a landmark and . You could see it from the highway. It was heaven on earth.

Not our campground, but close; ours was more beautiful :)

The best part of all is the memories we made and the family ties that bind us together. We still enjoy each others company on Memorial Day.

The Family Who Works Together, Stays Together

I've heard that "the family who plays together stays together," and "the family who prays together stays together." I like to think that "the family who works together stays together."

For the second time in a year, my fabulous cousins and brother have showed up to help me lay sod. The first time was last September to do the backyard.

This past Saturday, most all of them showed up again and helped lay sod in my front yard. This time it was only 2 1/2 pallets so it went fairly quickly. My brother and I had prepped the lawn the weekend before. The morning of we moved five sprinkler heads. One head I knew had problems because the water would puddle when that line was turned on. We thought we had solved the problem. Unfortunately, no. There was a geyser back at the original location, indicating a leak in the main line. The sod was to arrive in 15 minutes. I left the checkbook with my brother to pay for the sod and I headed to Sprinkler World to get supplies. I was hoping that the customer service was better than when we were there the day before. It was only marginally better, but was faster than going to Lowes or Home Depot.

I arrived back just as the sod was being unloaded and all the help was arriving. We started laying sod while my brother fixed the main line. It didn't take long with that many hands. They were more than half-way finished and I headed off to Kneaders to get sandwiches for lunch. When I came back I was pleasantly surprised that my calculations for sod were right on and I didn't have any left over (unlike in September).

Of course we play and eat together a lot too. And we truly enjoy being together.

Love these guys!

Family is the best!

Miracles Never Cease

A couple of weeks ago Mr J was on his way to lunch when he missed a stair, fell, and sprained his ankle. He doesn't have peripheral vision (probably due to his brain tumor 9 years ago) so missing a step isn't something unusual.

He has been wearing a brace and using crutches, but he wasn't getting better. On Friday his Science teacher called and said that Mr J shouldn't go on the trip to Yellowstone this week. Of course this was devastating. This trip was supposed to be a fun, educational trip as a reward for good grades and positive citizenship.

Over the weekend his leg continued to swell and the pain increased. Sunday afternoon my sister wondered if this could possibly be a blood clot. I thought so. And so did my brother and my brother-in-law's sister, both who have had a blood clot in their leg.

This morning my sister took Mr J to "insta-care" which she says is an oxymoron. They said that it would be an 82 minute wait. But then the nurse "had a feeling" that she shouldn't send them back to the waiting room. She red-flagged his record and went to find a doctor.

A consult and x-ray revealed that Mr J indeed has a blood clot. Very unusual for a 14- year- old. He is on a blood thinner. They are running tests to see if this is genetic. My dad and brother have both needed blood thinners. And as I mentioned, his other aunt has also had a blood clot.

But for now, we are acknowledging that God is mindful of each of us, even a 14-year-old boy in a small town in northern Utah. Imagine if Mr J was in Yellowstone and the blood clot dislodged. I hate to even think of the possibilities.

I think Mr J has a great destiny and mission in life. In his short 14 years there have been too many miracles that have spared his life.

Life is good.

Who Do You Think You Are?

My favorite television show (besides anything on the Food Network) is “Who do you Think You Are.” The show follows celebrities who as they trace their family history. I find their stories fascinating and I learn tips for doing my own family history research.

I think I should be on that show. I have a great story and know most of the details--- but I want to travel to Norway to see where the story began. However, I’m not a celebrity and so nobody would want to watch that episode. But, here is Reader’s Digests version of my story. There are so many miracles that have happened along the way.

When my friend’s father dad died in the summer of 2008, I told him that instead of sending flowers my gift would be a few hours helping him do his family history. A few months later he approached me and said that he knew little about his great-grandfather Adolph Langeland and anything I could find would be appreciated. Thus began my love of Adolph Langeland, his wife Annie Thompson, their descendants, their ancestors, and family history work.

For three years and a half years I have searched for clues to Adolph Langeland’s past. I have looked on ancestry.com, visited the Family History Library in SLC, searched several other on-line databases, and got really good at reading the Norwegian Digital Archives. It was a dead end in trying to find out where Adolph came from.

I knew Adolph was born in Norway in February 1849, immigrated to the United States in 1873, arriving in the port of New York. He married Annie Thompson in either 1879 or 1881. I found Adolph’s naturalization records, but couldn’t find any immigration records. I concluded that he must have jumped on a ship without paying for passage and made his way to America. I learned about this strategy while researching about emigration and immigration patterns.

I knew that his name probably wasn’t really Langeland because it didn’t follow the patronymic naming of Scandinavian countries. His last name should have ended in “sen” or “son.” I also knew that people often changed their name, taking their farm name, or the name of a bird, tree, flower, etc. That’s how my maternal line from Sweden started as Anderson and became Rose.

On night in late December, while waiting for some laundry to finish, I searched within the database—“Wisconsin Marriages 1836-1930.” I typed “Annie Thompson” into the search bar. The result was a record indicating Anna Tomson married February 5, 1881 to Adolf Pedersen. Her parents were Helge Tomson and Sigri. His parents were listed as Abraham Pedersen and Anna. After three years of searching, in less than 35 minutes on a Friday night in late December, I had found my answer. I knew this was Annie because her parents, who both had unique names, matched. And I wasn’t worried about the spelling of the last name because I knew Thompson had gone through several iterations since they left Norway in the 1840s, from Tovsen to Tomson and eventually Thompson.

So Adolph P. Langeland was really Adolph Pedersen Langeland. Now I knew his parents name, I could possibly find a birth record. I did another search on Family Search and found a birth record of Andreas Adolf Abrahamsen on February 23, 1849 in Vest-Agder, Norway with parents listed as Abraham Pedersen and Anniken Leonardsdatter. They were living on the Langeland farm. No wonder I could never find him-- I was looking for Langeland and not Pedersen or Abrahamsen.

I still wondered how and when Adolph arrived in America. Today I found my answer on the New York Passenger lists on ancestry.com. Adolph arrived in America on 18 April 1873 as a passenger on the Ship St. Olaf. He was listed as Andreas A. Abrahamsen, his name given at birth. The record also shows that he came “steerage” which is the least expensive way to travel (usually for the poor) and uncomfortable conditions. From the Norway-Heritage website I read the following “S/S St. Olav, March 30. 
In Christiania [Olso, Norway] the steamship Sanct Olaf, Captain Hille, anchored at Fæstningsbryggen to unload a lot of goods from Newcastle, England. In Christiania she loaded some goods and about 60 emigrants for New York. She arrived safely in New York, April 17.”

By the 1880 US Census Adolph was living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and going by Adolph Pedersen (his middle name and dad’s last name). This is who he was when he married Annie Tomson also in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in February 1881. At some point, he changes his name to Adolph (his middle name) P. (initial of his father’s last name) Langeland (farm where he lived in Norway). Adolph and Annie’s first daughter is born in January 1882. If I could find a birth certificate for her, it would give me some indication of when, perhaps, the Pedersens became the Langelands.

But for now, my story is complete. I know who Adolph really is and where he came from. Yet I do wonder why he came to America and left all his family in Norway. Was it because he wasn’t the oldest son, so would never inherit the farm? I heard about that on a recent Who do You Think You Are episode. Or did he have a sense of wanderlust. Or did he just want to make a better life for himself? I will never know, but it is fun to imagine the possibilities.

A Year in Pictures with the Cousins

I'm trying to learn my new computer, so I made the slideshow. It had music, but apparently that violates copyright laws. So, something I need to learn is how to add music. Nevertheless, this is a fun way to reminisce about the time we've spent together this year.

Reflections on Women's Conference

I spent a glorious three days with my sister last week. We attended BYU Women's Conference on Thursday and Friday. On Saturday when she got a text from her 10-year old daughter that read "I miss you a lot. I can't wait until you can prepare us a real meal," I knew it was time for her to go home. I almost cried after she left.

I missed serving on the Women's Conference committee (and all the associated perks) but still thoroughly enjoyed the sessions, more so after 3:00 on Thursday. I was so nervous to speak. Usually when I stand up and start speaking the nerves go away, but not this time. I was less nervous to speak in the Marriott Center at a campus-wide devotional in 2010.

My assigned topic was "I Can do Hard Things" based on a scripture from Jeremiah. I prayed, pondered, agonized, wrote, and re-wrote. Finally the afternoon before, about 4:15 p.m., it all came together.

I shared the story of a former student, Lora, who died in 2008 from neurofibromatosis. This is a genetic disorder where tumors grow on the nervous system. She was, and is, an inspiration to me. Today I found out that one of the young women I taught in church a few years ago also has this disorder. I didn't make the connection before, though now I really wish I would have because Katie is an amazing woman who also does hard things. I could have talked about her.

In late December I had a dream that I was asked to speak at Women's Conference. I woke up thinking-- "well that is strange. I'd never be asked to speak. I just served on the committee for two years and I spoke as recently as 2010." But a few days later the letter came in the mail.

So for whatever reason, I feel like I was supposed to give this talk. Truthfully, I don't think that this was one of my best talks. But I think the talk was for me and not anyone else. It was a reminder to me that I can do this hard thing called "Relief Society President."

At the conclusion of Women's Conference I made the following comment to my sister-- the answer to all of life's challenge is the same-- whether it is doing hard things, balancing the roles we have, talking to our kids about uncomfortable topics, developing a better relationship with your spouse, having patience with yourself, and so forth, the answer is the same. It all comes down to having a relationship with God. You must know that He is mindful of you and will hear and answer your prayers. You must also have a confirmation that your life path is okay with Him. So doing the daily prayer and scripture study and keeping the commandments is really important and everything else will fall in to place. It's putting those large rocks in the jar first and then fill in with the pebbles and sand.

Life is good.

Justice and Mercy

I tend to see the world as black and white. If there are rules, you follow the rules. If there are guidelines, you follow the guidelines. If not, what is the purpose for having rules and guidelines? Life just seems so much less complicated if you just get in line and follow along.

And then I became a teacher. Students are always wanting exceptions to the rules. I've tried to learn how to be more merciful and kind, realizing that sometimes life happens.

And then my niece became a student at BYU. I'm starting to see the world through her eyes as she is dealing with professors and she is hoping for some Mercy. It has made me re-think my approach as a professor. I think I've been a little more merciful this year.

It is hard to know how much Mercy to have. What constitutes a situation for which I should show Mercy? Where does Justice come in to play?

• My family is going to Italy for a week on vacation.
• Spring football practice kept me from studying. I know classes have been over for a week, but is there anything I can do for extra credit to help my grade?
• I couldn't get a hold of the agency, even though I know I had all semester to work on this project. So I don't know if I'll make the deadline for completing the project.
• I have pink spots and can't go to the testing center to take the test.
• My boyfriend got hurt in a rugby game and I was at the hospital with him. I know I've had 3 days to take the test, but I'm not going to make it to the testing center before it closes.
• You gave us the option to take our score for exam #1 as the score for exam #2. I'm sorry that I didn't respond, but can I still choose that option? I know the exam is over, you've already graded the exam and given it back.
• Could you review some of these survey questions for my project? And could you do that today?

What's the balance between Justice and Mercy? Between being flexible and accommodating, but not being taken advantage of? I don't have the answer, but I'm working on it.

I really liked this statement made by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland in his recent General Conference talk (he was quoting someone else) "surely the thing God enjoys most about being God is the thrill of being merciful especially to those who don’t expect it and often feel they don’t deserve it." 

I want to be more merciful. 

"What Think Ye of Christ"

On Easter I taught the Relief Society lesson in our ward. I based my lesson on Matthew 22:41 where the Savior asks the Pharisees, "What think ye of Christ."

This is what I shared as my testimony.

Because of Christ:

...I can return to my Heavenly Father and receive all that He hath-- thrones, kingdoms, principalities, powers. He has promised it all to us if we live worthy. (See Isaiah 64:4; 1 Corinthians 2:9; Doctrine and Covenants 132:19; Doctrine and Covenants 84:38)

...I can be forgiven of my sins.

...I can have the strength to do hard things that would otherwise be beyond my mortal capacity. See the talk by Elder Bednar published in this month's Ensign magazine. It's my all time favorite talk.

...There will be a resurrection. I will be able to meet ancestors whom I do not know. I look forward to thanking them for accepting the gospel of Jesus Christ and sacrificing all that they had, including leaving their native land, to join with the Saints in Zion.

...The power of the priesthood is upon the earth. This means that the priests can officiate at the sacrament table each week and I can renew my baptismal covenants.

...Also because of the priesthood, there are temples and ordinances. I can go to the temple and receive peace, power, and strength to face the challenges of life.

...Life is worth living. Otherwise this mortal experience would, at times, be too hard and too painful. My life has meaning, purpose and direction because of the Savior, His life, the atonement, and the resurrection.

Waffles, Frites, and Diamonds

On Saturday I took my nieces to SLC to visit the new City Creek Center. This is a huge, upscale shopping mall located in downtown.

Our first stop was at Bruges Waffles and Frites. I've wanted to visit this place since I saw Belgian waffles featured on the FoodNetwork. One of the secret ingredients is the pearled sugar. It was a beautiful sunny day outside and Bruges space is "tiny" so we opted to be friendly and asked a guy on the street if we could share his table. Somehow sitting in the sunshine makes everything taste better!

The waffles were decadent. Niece #1 and mine were filled with two bars of Belgian Chocolate. Niece #2 had strawberries and cream. The only thing I would change is the cream; less would be more. They are divine without the extra sweetness.


We also tried their "frites." I am not a fry connoisseur, but my niece #1 is. These were good. I think they are double fried, which adds to their tastiness, but we won't mention the extra calories. They come with one packet of custom dipping sauce, which is more than enough. You could eat the frites without any sauce at all. It was a good balance to the SWEET waffles.

Then we headed to City Creek. It was mobbed with adults and numerous little kids who were not being attended by said parents. Mayhem. We made the best of it.

The favorite store for niece #2 was Harmons grocery store. If I lived in downtown SLC, I would shop here often! Niece #1 liked Papyrus. She wanted to go to the Disney Store, but the line was too long to wait. We also visited Lush. Unfortunately the store was a huge disappointment after shopping at the Lush stores in Seattle and Vancouver which are much larger and had a greater variety of products.

My favorite store was Tiffany and Co. I like fine things. I just don't have the pocketbook to go with my tastes. I did find me a ring at Tiffany & Co. Why not buy myself a diamond ring? I found one that is diamond and sapphire. BEAUTIFUL. I decided that if I start saving now, I can buy this for myself when I get promoted to full professor. The blue and white colors seem very appropriate :)

"My Mama Had a Dancing Heart"

"My mama had a dancing heart and she shared that heart with me"

A few weeks ago at our stake Relief Society conference, a woman shared one of her favorite books "My Mama Had a Dancing Heart." She encouraged us to read it with someone and talk about the things that we love because your mother loved it first.

Last weekend while visiting my sister, I read it with my 10-year-old niece. When I asked her what she loved because her mom loves it, she said "cooking."

I would agree. I like to cook too-- and I usually prepare too much when company comes over, because that is what my mother does :) I also love flowers because my mom loves flowers too. I just didn't inherit her green thumb. Good music is also something both mom and I love. And all the festivities associated with the Christmas holiday, particularly Christmas music and Christmas trees, are another shared loved.

What do you love because your mama loved it first?

"Though I'd never be a mother, I felt like one"

There is a song on the Forgotten Carols soundtrack called "Mary Let Me Hold her Baby." The lyrics include the phrase, "Though I'd never be a mother, I felt like one"

That's kind of how I've felt this week.

I had a student from last semester stop by my office. In the course of our conversation, I came to the realization that her mother was just a year older than me and that we went to high school together. I suddenly felt OLD! REALLY OLD! I couldn't possibly be old enough to be her mother. But I am.

Maybe I don't feel old enough because I haven't had milestone events with my own children to mark the passage of time. So even though the years tick by and birthdays come and go, I don't feel as old as what the years indicate.

But this week I kind of felt like a mom, or rather felt the feelings a mom might have. This year my niece has been a freshman at BYU. Yes, technically, I am old enough to be her mother. However, she feels more like a counterpart and friend than a daughter. Having her here has been the greatest blessing in my life. It has filled my heart with joy and given meaning to my life.



We go to devotional each Tuesday at 11:00 and to dinner one night a week. As we talk, she has told me about the events of school, adjusting to roommates, learning from professors, applying for jobs, staying up late, and so forth. I find myself hoping that everything turns out perfect for her. I know it won't, because that is how life is-- "life is not fair" as my mother told me. But I still want it to be perfect for her; to save her from disappointments and heartaches and make sure she gets the best of everything BYU has to offer. When she feels hurt I am sad; when she is happy, I am ecstatic too.

Aunt Donna, who really wasn't my aunt but my mom's best friend from her college days, once told me that she had a good life, but she wouldn't want me to have it. She had never married, yet had been the influence for good in the lives of so many people, including our family. She encouraged me to be social and do what I could to have the opportunity for marriage. At the time, I didn't quite understand what she meant. But now I do. I guess these feelings from Aunt Donna and Me are part of the nurturing, mother heart in each of us regardless of our station in life.

So, Though I'd never be a mother, this week, I've felt like one.

What I Learned from My Dad

Today in Relief Society, our lesson was from this General Conference talk by Elaine S. Dalton

It made me reflect on what I learned from my dad. In some ways, it is hard to separate what I learned from my dad from what I learned from my mom, because they are a team.

1) I learned from my dad to love the scriptures. This photo is how I remember my dad most evenings during my childhood (o.k., so the shirt wasn't purple, but I'm trying to be modest and respectful- see #6). In California he taught early morning seminary and every night after the chores were done and our supper eaten, we could find him in the "front room" studying the scriptures. He earned a small stipend from teaching seminary but that money always went back to throwing a party for the students. He would serve them ice cream and corn flakes for breakfast! They loved it and those students till talk about it.
My mother once wrote me the following advice about choosing a spouse, "If you will choose someone who is as dedicated to the Church as he is, then you will be happy." Someone who has a testimony and loves the Lord is at the top of my future husband list!



2) I learned from my dad to be generous. My parents never had a lot of the world's wealth, but they were always willing to give. We would invite the widows and the orphans for Thanksgiving dinner. The missionaries always went home with a bag full of cookies (that Mom made). Even today, dad is always giving something to someone-- for instance bags of Malt o Meal cereal from my brother's work to the neighbor boys. My parents have also given money to help missionaries from their ward who didn't have the financial family support to go on a mission.

3) I learned that marriage can be good. I have never heard my dad speak ill of my mother. Once when my older brother was sassing my mother, dad responded, in a firm tone, "You will not talk to my wife that way." What an indelible impression that left on him, and a lesson for all of us. My parents enjoy spending time together. They have more shared interests than they do individual. My dad supports my mom's hobbies and vice versa.




4) I learned from my dad to love entertaining. When my parents were first married they hosted a lot of parties at their house. This is just one picture of a holiday party with my dad's siblings and his parents. It is in the dining room of our house in California. My parents also catered several wedding receptions. My dad loves a good party!


5) I learned from my dad to love antiques! My dad has always been an antique collector and it rubbed off on me. He taught me the signs to look for to tell if a piece of glassware was real or a reproduction. When I was living in ATL and would go antique shopping and find a great deal, I couldn't wait to call and tell him all about it. One of the first antique glassware pieces my parents gave me was a "spoon dish." It is now turning a pretty shade of purple-- one sign of an old piece of glass.

6) I learned from my dad to be modest. When I was in junior high I was a cheerleader for the basketball team. It was tradition on game day to wear our cheerleading outfits (i.e., short skirts) to school. My dad did not think that was appropriate. So I didn't wear it. It was painful to go against what the rest of the squad was wearing, but I respected my dad. We also didn't wear short gym shorts around the house. A few years later while in college, my roommates father and two of her brothers came over. I was in our living room wearing a pair of purple shorts; short-shorts. I felt uncomfortable and went and changed in to long pants. They were surprised at my response to their presence. Now both of these examples don't have much of eternal consequence, but my dad taught me that modesty was important.
These are just six things I learned from my dad. I love him!