The proposal

Jennie said yes.  I can hardly believe it.  We have set the date for June 24th.  I had to ask permission from her eldest brother, David.  Of course he rehearsed to me the speech which her father might have given had he been alive!  He very emphatically let me know that she was her father's favorite, his pet if you will.  

I tried to remain calm during his dissertation. He insisted I tell him a little bit about "my people".

I recited the following, "
My father, Hyrum Franklin Stoddard was serving as a bishop when he passed away. They say it was the small pox.  My mother was five months shy of giving birth to me.  My grandfather was  Charles Stoddard.  His parents joined the church and then joined the Saints in Illinois where I was born."

 Of course, he reminded me that I was boy who worked on the rail and Jennie of course was the youngest daughter of prominent Logan citizen and pioneer, Thomas X. Smith. "Jennie has been to college," he said. Finally, he shook my hand an offered me his congratulations.

  I smiled and   thanked him wholeheartedly and then ran to find my soon to be bride.   

A Forever Spring

It is March and spring in Idaho. My thoughts drift often to Jennie as I am here in Pocatello on a rail run.  There are so many daffodils.  I imagine her twirling endlessly. 

 It would be nice to come home on nights like this and have a nice warm supper and a cheerful rosy cheeked little wife welcoming me. I see pictures of Jennie in my head- they are beautiful.  I imagine a future with her.  

"We are sitting down to supper alone.  We start talking about the "little ones" who will add to our happiness.  We smile and exchange glances. 

"What happiness lies a head for us Jennie." I say.  

She smiles and nods. Her beautiful blue eyes lock on mine."  

A future such as my day dream- I can only hope. I can hardly believe a city girl like Jennie has fallen for a "railway man" like me.  

Return to the Rail

After our first date to the Blue Bird, Jennie was all I could think of... I was reprimanded a few times on the job for having my head in the clouds.

I found it difficult to concentrate on my life on the rail. All that kept me going were the letters we exchanged.

Pocatello Idaho
March 2, 1914
My Dear Jennie,
While I sat thin this evening of you, I decided to write my thought to you such as they are.

I am very tired this evening having just arrived from Huntington Oregon at eight p.m. and dear as my thoughts are of you always.  I I sincerely wish you were near me all the time.

Perhaps you can realize what it is to want for something especially someone who is most dear to you and can not go to her.

Well dear, I live in hopes that I will get my little friend someday and dear the sooner the better as I know I will be better off and as I can keep someone I want you, just you.

Isn't it the most glorious thing this love one gets for another.  It appears most heavenly it its mission, and dear I enjoy it more and more every day.And it is getting almost unbearable.  Can't you come, won't you come dear, as you have stolen into my life it appears that you have become a part of it, to leave as silently as you entered it would nearly break my heart. I do believe.

I will try and bear it until the spring dear, and won't you come to me as I have before stated you are the missing link of the chain to my happiness.

Love,
Ed 

Wednesday Write- Bargains with God

  The blossoms are breathtaking and the blades of grass are beginning to shoot up through the barren ground.  Spring is coming.... feels so refreshing as winter seems to have zapped joy and gladness.  Love the daffodils and Tulips as they dance and giggle and spread gladness.   

Although I love winter and its incredible beauty, I am always ready for spring.  I wonder if we bargained with God and said "we would take winter, but please don't make us miss the spring."  

I think we may have said the same thing about tragedy and adversity,  "We will take them Heavenly Father, but please remember to send the blessings and  the tender mercies- the joy."

  Monday, I was able to attend the court proceedings of the adoption finalization of my cousin's twin baby girls. 

I was overwhelmed with emotion as I sat in the courtroom and witnessed the event.  No longer were they baby girl one and two- they had names on the records of the court- Bellamy and Dempsey.  

Even the judge became emotional.  I am certain for him with all the "winter" he sees, witnessing "spring" is a rare and beautiful blessing.

The adoption was joyful, but my cousin, and her husband have experienced more than their fair share of "winter."  This day they stood strong.  They don't take parenthood for granted and they are totally a team.  

I was so grateful to witness the strength that stood behind them in the courtroom- brothers, sisters, grandparents, great grandparents, cousins, friends. The feeling in the air was palpable.  What a joy to see them all enjoy a little bit of spring as "winter" has been hard this year.

When the barren branches of winter are sprinkled with snow dust next year, I will draw upon the strength of this day and its dancing daffodils and laughing tulips.  It will allow me to see the goodness of the white winter world.  

First Date at the Blue Bird

I looked for the daffodils on 100 East as I approached the Smith home.  Taking the daughter of the late Thomas X. Smith on a date was a little more than intimidating.  

My thoughts drifted,
"What on earth is a poor railway boy from Uintah doing taking out the daughter of one of Logan's Finest citizens?"

My rail stop in Logan wasn't  long, but long enough to grab an ice cream at the Blue Bird.

Jennie bounced out her front door giving a slight wave of the hand to me and then eagerly hooked her arm in mine.  It felt so right having her by my side.  We chatted a bit as we walked to the Blue Bird.  I was a bit of the quiet type, but she made up for the both of us. She told me a little bit about her family, Fannie, David, Eugene, Mabel, Patience, and her favorite, Marie. And then of course she sighed,

"Then there are the other wives and my 17 other siblings." she giggled, "Poor Annie (her mother)!"

This was so different than my upbringing.  I had only Margaret and Hyrum as siblings. Of course,  My father passed away before I was born and my mother remarried so I had a half sister Hazel. But there was no polygamy.


I could feel the sunshine on our backs. I smiled as we opened the door to the Blue Bird.

Jennie's eyes

Note- I am working on a writing project. This story is based on my great grandparents Edwin and Jennie, but circumstances of their meeting is fictitious.


I saw the girl dancing with the daffodils tonight.  My buddy Art convinced me to check out the Dansante Dance Hall in Logan on one of my rail runs- best decision I ever made- she was there.
She was a "stand out" among the "stand outs."

It was late April and beautiful. The frigid winter temperatures in Logan had delayed the spring blossoms, but tonight the scent of the tulips and daffodils lingered. I loved the smell and the scenery of the evening was even more promising.  She was wearing blue.  I spied her from across the dance floor.  The color of her dress matched her piercing blue eyes.  I was mesmerized.

Silently thinking, "I wish Art were here to dare me to ask her to trade a dance with me."

Suddenly, I decided to dare myself and before I had a second thought I was making my way across the dance floor.  She was in the circle of a group of friends.  Their laughter shook the dance floor.  I directed my gaze to her as the band paused before beginning their next number,
" May I have this dance?"
She responded, "yes, but your name please?"
"Edwin Cleveland Stoddard... and you- you are the girls who dances with the daffodils."
"I thought I recognized you," she replied.
Her bright eyes teased me and suddenly I felt my face grow red.

Adventures in Motherhood- Prom 2017

While there are many adventures I have on my bucket list, I never seem to get to them. Because as a mother of five great kids, I don't need to make a list of adventures- they just seem to happen.

Yesterday, I ended up in Snow Canyon State Park with Emma on a field trip.  Little did I know that I was going to be in charge of 17 of students. Yep, they handed me a map and 17 of the best kids ever and said we'll see you at the campground for lunch.  Little did they know that I get lost in a parking lot (Rigby is my compass).  But we had a great adventure and lots of laughs- not to mention I wasn't the only one to get their group lost- yep four other groups did too!

 Then today,  Rigby and I had a date planned for this evening- a steak at Milt's sounded so yummy-just the two of us.  But it seems Stockton's group didn't quite have their plans together, so Rigby and I ended hosting dinner- salad, artichokes, asparagus, homemade rolls, chicken, ribeye, mashed potatoes, and cheesecake.  We shopped, cooked, and cleaned most of the day, and even had some fun- baseball with Emma and Maleck and an early morning tropical smoothie.

 You know what, this adventure turned out pretty great- the six couples were a lot of fun- gorgeous girls, great guys and the best part was I spent most of the day with my  Rigby- I even let him boss me around. Twenty-six years ago he took me to our junior prom- looked how great that turned out.

Thanks for letting us be a part of your day Stockton and congrats on being in the Prom Royalty! #2ndattendant #onehandsomedude

Edwin's sunshine

The first time I saw Jennie she was literally dancing with the daffodils.  It was spring in Logan and I had a few minutes before I had to get back on the rail and load baggage, so I decided to take a short walk.

Just off 5th and North street is where I found the daffodils and Jennie. Her home was surrounded by a beautiful garden, and she was right in the middle of it. I had to stop myself from staring. I could tell from her surroundings that she was out of my league.  After all, I worked on the rail.

All I could think about that day was
"I love daffodils!"

Dancing Daffodils

I tried planting  my own daffodils in mother's garden.  I wanted to have a real life  reminder of my dad Ed.  I worked all day in the warm autumn sunshine trying to get the soil just right.  I even went down to the neighbor's corral and got some manure for fertilizer and then soaked the ground before I planted the bulbs. 

I woke up early the next day to check on my little "forget me not," and it was gone. 

Mother said, "It must have been a dog."

My lips quivered and I turned away quickly.  
I softly muttered, "we never have dogs come into our yard."

The weather soon turned and I didn't get another bulb planted.  I wanted daffodils for spring- I wanted to see them dance.

Wednesday Wander- Little Jamaica

 I always feel better after a wander.  A short break from the routine of a life raising 5 children warrants one every now and again.  Before Madsen's baseball games Saturday morning we packed the other three in the "burb" and went searching for Little Jamaica.

 I was somewhat dumbfounded by the oasis in the desert we found.  Rigby was kind enough to guide us on the adventure.  Little Jamaica is part warm springs, part man made pool, part river.

 I only wished we had more time and a picnic to thoroughly enjoy the experience, but now a days, we will take what we can get.  

 But this hidden gem proves to me once again just how amazing the southwest is!

 Info on how to get here - credit Jordan Abel- Dixie Sun News

 To get to Little Jamaica, drive south through the Virgin River Gorge and take Desert Springs Exit 9 in Arizona. Then, take a right off the freeway exit and an immediate left. Next, go under the overpass and take a right onto a dirt road and find one of three paths that lead to the parking area. If you have a four-wheel drive vehicle, feel free to go straight. If not, test out the second or third paths.

From this point, go through the break in the gate toward the west and follow the path until you can see and hear the water. Follow the water until you find the pool.

To take a four-wheel drive vehicle down by the river, follow Fleet Street around until it becomes Anderson Lane. Take the next left and find a dirt road on your right that should take you down by the river.

 Just another reason I love to wander- CARPE DIEM!

Love our Youngers!

Mystery Monday- Anna Marie

Anna, Cleve and Ruth

Anna Marie came home from the hospital with mom on a Monday.  I was 12 and Cleve was 13.  I was overjoyed with this mysterious bundle. Cleve not so much.

Mom said, "Her name is Anna Marie."

I smiled when mom handed her to me. She smelled absolutely wonderful.  Her tiny pink hands and feet, dark curly hair, bright eyes- she was perfect.

I whispered softly, "I'm your big sister, and I love you."

Cleve grunted, "It'll never be the same now that they have their own baby."

"shush," I said.

I turned back to Anna Marie, "Don't mind him.  He's just a boy."

I was instantly in love with Anna.  And of course my parents at 39 and 40 years of age would need my help.  They may not be the perfect age to be the parents of a new born, but I was the perfect age to be a big sister.

Oh brother

You would think Cleve and I  would be super close, with our mother dying when we were so young, our father Edwin remarrying,  and our aunt and uncle raising us,  but that's not the case.  In fact, Cleve and I have one photo of the two of us together- one photo.

Cleve pulled me from my bed and bundled me up nice and warm. I rubbed my tired eyes and asked him what was going on.  He shushed me,
"Don't wake baby sister."
"I am taking you to see the daffodils,"  he said.

Cleve and I were so different and each of us had our own battles to fight.  I wish we could have fought them together.

Cleve joined the Naval Academy when he was 18 and that was it.  He left me, our little town nestled in the mountains, and our faith.  I wondered if he ever looked back.

I thought of him often and wondered, "Did he ever think of me?""

My long name

The questions began in first grade when Mrs. Haight gave us our penmanship assignment.

"Students, please write your name 10 times, first, last- and middle if you would like."

I sighed and muttered, "Which last name should I write?"

So, I wrote the whole thing.

Ruth Mabel Stoddard (Kimball) Weaver- 20 times.

I knew the question was coming even before Timmy next to me asked in his squeaky little voice,

"Wow, that's a long name and what are those funny half circles?"

I hate this part.  But I did it anyway repeating my rehearsed answer,

" My birth mother Jennie Smith Stoddard and my birth father, Edwin Smith were the parents of my brother Edwin Cleveland Stoddard and me.  Our mother Jennie died during the flu epidemic in 1918.  Because my father Edwin could not care for a nine month old baby and a two and half year old child, we went to live with my mother's sister, Marie Smith Kimball and her husband Leo Kimball who didn't have any children of their own. 

Timmy had already lost interest before I was half through with my answer so I went back to my penmanship assignment. 

"Only five more to go- I hate these parentheses!"

I found this photo on family search- I have never seen my grandmother sign her name this way....

Daffodils in December?

My eyes, they say I have my father Edwin's eyes-sparkling blue and piercing.  But my mom, Marie, always said I acted like my mother, her sister Jennie.

It is so strange to me that while I never really knew either one of my birth parents, I have always felt this strange closeness to them.  My mom, Marie, said that Jennie was the angel watching over me. Somehow, that was my bridge to heaven and to Jennie.

Daffodils.  Somehow, my father Edwin always managed to have daffodils delivered to me on my birthday.  Strange because there are no daffodils in December.

I remember my mom Marie muttering once,

"The days we buried your mother.  He brought daffodils."

And that was it. That was the only day she ever spoke about my mother's funeral.

Mom was the type of woman who spoke her mind and that mind didn't often change.  She was straightforward, but also loving and caring.  

I didn't dare ask her anything else so I trudged to the Logan library and looked up Daffodils. I found my answer inside a very worn and tattered green book.

"Daffodils symbolize "rebirth" and "new beginnings. "  Given in bunches they mean "Joy and Happiness."  

"I wonder if my father, Edwin, ever gave my mother, Jennie, daffodils?"

Letters read by Ruthie

Letters, that's all I have is letters- remnants of a love story that has become somewhat mythical to me.  These are the only tangible objects that remain of my mother and father's love. My mother, Jennie Stoddard never grew  old. 

The railroad in Utah’s North brought Edwin and Jennie together… it is this great steam horse which tore them a part. Nestled in the mouth of Ogden Canyon where the tracks meet is where my father Edwin grew up.  It was only natural that Edwin became a railway man.  The tracks connected Uintah to Logan, and thus Jennie and Edwin on the Bamberger Railroad.

The two fell in love on the brink of World War I. They married June 24, 1914- four days prior to the assassination of Franz Ferdinand of Austria.  This bullet triggered World War I.   The Great War shaped their lives and the lives of their future generations- in ways unimaginable to these two young hearts.

These letters were penned by their young hands and their hopeful hearts.  They are but etchings- a mere echo of Jennie’s short-lived life.

On March 2, 1914 Edwin wrote from Pocatello Idaho Depot (The Oregon Short Line and Utah Northern Railway Railway):

My Dear Jennie,

“…Isn’t it the most glorious thing this love one gets for another.  It appears most heavenly in its mission, and dear I enjoy it more and more every day.  And it is getting most unbearable.  Can’t you come, won’t you come dear, as you have stolen into my life and it appears that you have become a part of it, to leave as silently as you entered would nearly break my heart, I do believe.

I will try and bear it until the spring dear, and then won’t you come to me, as I have stated you are the missing link of the chain, to my happiness…”

Jennie, the daughter of prominent Logan citizen, Thomas X. Smith, was her father’s darling.  As the youngest child of a large polygamous family, she was the pet.  Uncommon in her day and especially for women, she was also a scholar having received two years of college education. 

Jennie and Edwin’s letters continue but were few.  Jennie fell for this eloquent railway man as they communicated via letters through their courtship, early days of marriage, and the birth of two children, Cleve and Ruth.  While the war drew to a close in Europe, another disaster struck as the Great Flu Epidemic of 1918 raged hitting Edwin on the railway.  The story goes that “Ed” returned for a short visit and unknowingly infected Jennie.  He returned to the railway and fell ill.

The last letter of communication between the two shares the tale of their “almost happily ever after.” 

The letter was post dated October 14, 1918, 2 pm Salt Lake City Utah:

Mr. E.C. Stoddard

C/O Columbia Hospital

Butte, Montana

Salt Lake City, Utah

October 13, 1918

My Dear Bug,

“No one can tell how I felt when I heard you were ill.  I would give anything if you were here and I could care for you.  O. Bug!  Why did you go? I’m just heart sick.  Ever since you left I’ve been so depressed and felt as if something would happen.  If you were only home…”

The letter is signed, “with bushels of Love and Kisses

From Babes and myself,

Jen

 Grandma Annie was with my mom at this time during the worst it.  She went  out to get more medicine for Jennie and returned to find her near death. Edwin received word of Jennie’s imminent death while he lay in a hospital in Butte, Montana.  He arrived in Salt Lake City on a stretcher stricken with the flu himself.

My mother Jennie made one last request on her deathbed to Edwin- The promise that her children would not be raised by a stepmother. 

 Echoes from canons of the Great War halted on November 11, 1918.  Eleven Days later on November 22, 1918 my father Edwin lost his sweetheart and later Cleve and I. (mother's  sister Marie and husband Leo Kimball raised Edwin and myself). My mother, Jennie, died at 26 years of age- she never lived to grow old.

The Great Depression in Utah's Cache County #writer'schallengeday7

Dad was enraged the night we left.  I had never seen him act this way.  Times had been tough. He had to close his store. He had extended so much credit that he couldn't stay in business anymore. Unfortunately, the eggs, a jugs of milk, fresh vegetable, and bread he received as payment for goods, didn't count for much at the bank for the mortgage. Everywhere, I went people talked of "The Great Depression."  And then the drought that hit our valley in 1931, didn't help much either.

There was a permeating silence in our small home that night.  Mother tried to maintain her composure, but I could tell it was wafting.  There seemed to a loss of hope. I heard them speaking in muffled whispers.  

"The children, how will we feed the children?" 
"Maybe Ed could help?" mother replied
"After all, he is their father."

I was in the other room, but these words stung.  Had I stayed longer, I would of heard my dad's response,
" No, Marie, I am their father, " he replied quiet and stern.

That's when I bundled Ruthie up and we left the only place we had ever called home.

Uncle Cleve

"Edwin,"  Principal Bates shouted!  "Are you here again?"
I could tell Principal Bates' patience was coming to an end. Let's just say I was a frequent visitor to his office, and they weren't pleasure visits.  Nope, school came a little to easy for me and I seemed to find trouble faster than I found the cookie jar.

My parents, Leo and Marie were charmed by my intelligence, but my common sense well that was another story.  Dad tried his best, but ever since the depression hit and he lost the market on canal street, our relationship was never quite the same.

The older Ruthie and I got the less frequent our visits to our father Ed in Ogden were. Of course, he always sent daffodils to Ruthie on her birthday.  I am not sure how he managed daffodils in December.

 Ruthie admired my intelligence but tired of my teasing, so when I mentioned the opportunity that Principal Bates extended to me take the competitive  examinations to attend the United State Naval Academy in Anapolis, Maryland she was immediately elated.

My little black steam engine

"Choo, Choo,"  I loved playing with the little black steam engine my father "Ed" gave to when I was just a little boy.  In fact, I carried it for years.  I never let Ruthie play with it.  I wanted just one thing to keep all to myself to remind me that my dad really loved me. He worked for the railway express as a train messenger and baggage man.  In fact, it was the railway that brought he and Jennie, my mother, together.  It was also the railway which kept them a part.  

As I grew older my memories of my father, "Ed" began to fade.  I worked at my dad, Leo's grocery store, Canal Market, on west Center Street, in Logan.  I delivered groceries and cleaned up the store.  Making deliveries was cold, but I enjoyed the work and spending time with my dad... slowly the memories of Edwin began to fade too, but I still played with the little black engine-- choo, choo!

Who am I? Edwin Cleveland Stoddard (Kimball)

Edwin (3) Ruth (18 months)

I carry an old photo around of Ruthie and I.  It was taken not long after our mother Jennie died.  We look so happy for two small children who just buried their mother.  I often wonder,
 "Was I there the day they lowered her casket into the ground?" 
 Late November in Cache County's Logan must have been freezing.  
Ruthie was to little to even grasp that our mama was gone, but me if I close my eyes tightly, I still can hear the melody of her lullaby.  I can't even make out the the words, but I can  feel the melody.

I am Edwin Cleveland Stoddard Jr.  The Jr. to the man I never really knew.  Sure there were summer trips to his new home in Ogden with Edna, but  who am I really?  The boy who hums a lullaby and carries a name with a parentheses (Kimball) or (Stoddard)?

I guess it depends who is writing the name.

The decision

I remember mother sitting Ruthie and I down just once to tell us how we came to live with she and pops.  

"It was the flu that snatched your mother Jennie from us.  It was raging everywhere.    The two of you were so small.  She died while you were in the bassinet next to her bed, Ruthie.  Our mother Annie had gone out to get her medicine, but did not make it back in time."

"Jennie was our father's favorite.  We were a well thought of family. Our father was prominent Logan citizen, Thomas X. Smith. Everyone knew Jennie was his favorite daughter.  After we buried Jennie that cold November day, the six of us gathered to determine who should be the ones to raise the two of you. Fannie, David, Eugene, Mabel, patience and I were all there. Your father Leo and and I had not been able to have children yet, so we seemed like the likely choice." her voice trickled to a whisper as she muttered something about daffodils.

Mother never once said a word about our real father , Edwin. I always wondered  if he simply did he not want us.

Daffodils for Ruthie- day 2 writer's challenge

I remember he brought Ruthie daffodils when he came for us.  Marie and Leo did not open the screen door.
"we've filled for adoption, Ed."  was Marie's blunt greeting.
"we told you we would if you ever tried to come for them."
Edwin replied, "But Edna and I are married."
"She will be around to care for them while I am on the rail."
Leo who had stood silent for so long quietly shook his head no whispering,
"They are ours now Ed."
I remember the twinkle in my father Ed's eye disappearing and the blue color fading to gray.  Suddenly, my once tall father seemed a mere shadow of himself. Then all was silent.

He left the daffodils on the doorstep, and I quickly pretended I had not seen or heard anything from the den where Ruthie and I were playing.

Writer's Challenge- day one

Writer's challenge:  This next month I am taking the challenge to write 100 words a day... join the challenge or follow along and  meet some people and places that I love both real and imagined.  Photos of the barns were taken in Manti, Utah on one of my adventures some of which  appeared in the Southwest magazine, Etched.

 Challenge Day one: It's cold outside as we  seek shelter from the storm inside the old barn. The darkness of the night evaporates as we stir the embers of the fire.  Surely, no one would find us on a night like this.  How long had we been running?   I had lost track.  Days, weeks?  It was a mystery.  I heard Ruthie's stomach growling as I looked up to see her tired eyes.  There was no smile tonight.  she looked so fragile and frail.  A mere shadow of the girl she was a year ago.  

But then I was different too.  We wanted to find him.  Our father, the man we were told abandoned us after our mother's death.  Or so that is what our aunt and uncle told us.  But something just didn't feel right.