Voice of the Cowboys

As I completed high school, I remember that my life plan was to become a teacher and to come back to Grantsville and teach math and coach at the high school (this is essentially what my brother Scott did do). Life ended up taking me in a different direction and those plans never came to fruition. I did major in math in college, but never went into Math Education. About midway through my math degree, I discovered computer science, minored in that, and that has ended up being where I have spent my career.

While I did coach my boys a little bit as they were growing up, primarily in Junior Jazz, and all before we moved back to Grantsville, I have never become involved in coaching at the high school like I thought I might and like some of my brothers have (Scott has been involved with football at various points, including this year, and has also coached tennis and cross country and spent the last few years as the school's athletic director, Alan has helped coach football for several years, and Brent runs the clock for football and basketball. At one point, Brent had a rule that if there was a Cowboy athletic event within 45 miles of wherever he lived at the time, he would attend, and famously posted on Facebook when the Cowboys won a baseball state championship the same weekend his first child was born, that the Cowboys winning state was the best part of his weekend. He was kidding. I think). While I attend games when I can and definitely still enjoy supporting the Cowboys, I haven't had the same level of involvement that some of my other brothers have.

But when Scott opted to step down as athletic director to return to the classroom, Aaron Perkins, who had done the PA for football games the past few years, was hired as the new athletic director, which meant they needed a new PA announcer. Scott and Aaron discussed some possibilities and Scott said he would ask me. I got this text on May 24:

Scott (7:34 AM): With Aaron Perkins being the new AD would you have any interest in being the announcer at the football games?

Me (7:35 AM): I don't think so. I just don't want to commit to being at every game.

Scott (7:36 AM): I understand.

Me (7:37 AM): Sorry. I'm just not as committed as Brent.

Scott (7:38 AM): Haha. No worries. Aaron asked if I had any ideas and I told him I would ask you.

That would have been that. They would have found someone else and probably someone who would do a much better job than I would. But I talked it over with Jeanell, and she thought I should at least consider it. I thought more about it and texted Scott back the next evening, May 25:

Me (5:32 PM): So I've thought about it some more and talked to Jeanell and if you haven't already found someone else I'd be willing to give it a try. I don't know what the schedule is. I know I will be out of town September 20 and October 11. I'd only be able to do the varsity games.

Scott (5:33 PM): I don't have the schedule memorized I will send it to you and I will forward this information on to Aaron Perkins and I'll be in touch with you.

Me (5:33 PM): But if they've already got someone, that's great.

Scott responded to please plan on it and they'd make arrangements for the weekend I would be out of town.

Once I agreed to do it, I thought of the people I remembered that had announced games over the years. When I played, it was Teryl Hunsaker. I believe Jerry Hurst took over after Teryl and did it for several years. I remember Dave "Gumby" Gumucio and Don Wayne Nelson, and of course Aaron who had called the last few years. I'm sure there have been others I am missing. A great tradition that I would now have to try to not screw up.

I told my other brothers that I was planning to do it when we were gathered one Sunday evening. Kevin joked that I had a leg-up because I already knew how to pronounce "Mouritsen."

I was in touch with Aaron sporadically over the summer. We arranged for Taylor Schofield (who has helped in the past) and my brother Kevin (Glen) to help as spotters. Scott got me setup with an hour-long online PA announcing class that I watched. But beyond that I didn't really know what to do to prepare. And as the summer wore on, I started to get nervous about it. I was also going to be out of town for the Red/White scrimmage so my first opportunity to announce would be a real game.

That opportunity came about this past Friday when the Cowboys took on the San Juan Broncos (winners of 37 straight games and the last three 2A state championships). I had emailed San Juan's coach (Barkley Christensen) a few weeks ago for help with any pronunciations that I might find tricky. He graciously replied and in our email conversation, I learned that he was born the same year that San Juan ended my own football career when they defeated us in the state quarter finals 24-16 in 1994. If nothing else, this made me feel old.

(He also mentioned that his older brother was on the team that defeated my brother Alan and the rest of the Cowboys in the 1998 state semifinals).

I also told him how I had played in the 1A/2A vs 3A All-Star game that following summer, and that the coach our 1A/2A team was legendary San Juan coach Art Burtenshaw (Art's son Brad, who also went into coaching, was my teammate on that team).

I have to admit that I became quite nervous as game time approached. I printed out multiple copies of each team's roster that I could make notes on, and another sheet of things I needed to say during the course of the game. I arrived at the field an hour before kickoff, found Aaron, and he gave me a quick crash course on how to use the mic, when to make some of the announcements, and his suggestions on how to execute the announcing (always announce the offensive player first, then the defense).

I went over to the booth where the San Juan crew was setup for their broadcast and asked for some additional clarification on how to pronounce some names. I then did the same with Grantsville crew on the other side of the press box. Brent arrived to run the clock, and Kevin and Taylor showed up as well. We quickly came up with a system and decided that Kevin would spot the offense and Taylor would spot the defense. Time went quickly and before I knew it I was welcoming the fans and announcing the national anthem. The game got underway and of course San Juan came out in a no-huddle offense which made it hard to keep up with everything. I could tell I was pretty nervous and I believe the fans could tell that I was.

But as the game went on, I got more comfortable, and began to enjoy it. Kevin and Taylor did a great job of identifying the players involved with each play, and Brent, while doing a great job running the clock, was also a great help at calling out the penalties that occurred (and there were a few).

The game turned out to be a great one, with Grantsville prevailing 36-30, sealing the game with a late interception in their own end zone. (Amazingly, with 11 touchdowns scored, there was not a single successful post-touchdown conversion in the entire game. Both teams tried both kicking and two-point tries, but nothing was successful).

I don't know how I did, but I enjoyed it. The few people I talked to after the game all told me I did well, but what are they going to say? I was anonymously informed during the game that I needed to talk louder (we instead turned up the volume on the mic). But our only real snafu was when I turned off the mic after the game, without first muting the sound system, which caused loud static to blare from the speakers for a minute or so (both Scott and Aaron were trying to call me to tell me what to do to stop it, finally Scott got me to answer).

I don't know if this will be a long-term thing or not, but I had a lot of fun at the first game and am looking forward to the next one. Go Cowboys!

The Ranch

In the spring of 1989, I was twelve and was just finishing the 6th Grade when Sunnie Titmus offered me a job working on their ranch east of Grantsville. I had grown up knowing Sunnie and his wife Janae (the ranch and the sheep were actually owned by Janae's dad, Hatch Howard. Oil had been found on some of Hatch's land. He would quip, "If you want to make a fortune in the sheep business, strike oil" and "If you want to make a small fortune in the sheep business, start out with a large fortune"), as they were in our ward. But I don't remember any specific interactions that I had with them prior to going to work for them. (As I was typing that sentence, I had a memory of a trip we took to stay at the ranch in Evanston along with the Tripps and Chatwins, but I still don't remember a specific interaction with Sunnie or Janae. I do remember catching a whole bunch of frogs). But apparently I had made a good, or at least adequate, impression.

My parents were pretty happy I was being given this opportunity. My mom didn't work at the time and there were six kids (McKell wouldn't have been born yet) and at twelve, it was high time I started pulling my weight.

Shane Allred and Mike Larsen were four years older than me and both had already worked there for a few years. Sunnie was bringing me along as the next generation.

I remember going the first day, which I remember as being a Thursday (not sure if that's right, but that's what I'm remembering (I would see it felt like Thursday, but Thursday has no feel). I don't remember exactly what we did that day, but my guess would be that we moved sprinkler pipe. I do remember that I didn't like it...at all. It was hot and there were mosquitoes and gnats, and the pipes were heavy. Wasn't what I thought of as a good time.

I was supposed to go back the next day, but I believe when I got home from school, I threw myself onto my bed and started crying and basically refused to go. Later that night, after I had calmed down, I went with my parents to Sunnie and Janae's to talk with them about the job. I don't remember what was said, but I came back the next day and to the best I can recall, I never missed another day, at least not without permission.

Not that I suddenly became a stellar employee (I don't know that I was ever a stellar employee). I remember some struggles I had that first summer. I've detailed some of my driving mishaps elsewhere, but I also have a memory of doing something in Titmus' backyard with a wheelbarrow and they were gone and whatever I was doing was very hard, and tears were flowing again. Another time I was supposed to clean out the sheep pens (I was again on my own that day) and I had a hard time with the smell (and probably just with the work) and would frequently stop cleaning the stalls and go outside the barn to get some fresh air. At some point, Sunnie returned and I went out to talk to him. He asked if I was done. I had cleaned maybe four pens out of what seemed like 100. Sunnie said he'd take me home.

When I was moving sprinkler pipe, I always did better when I was with Mike and Shane (probably because they would do most of the work in that case). If I got dropped off to move a field myself, I would work extremely slowly, in hopes that Mike and Shane would finish what they were doing and come and help me finish. I also wasn't great at keeping the lines straight as I would move the pipe. You were supposed to pick a point that was straight from the riser and aim each pipe toward that, but I think I pretty much dropped the pipe as soon as I got it moved, without paying much attention to where it was pointing. I remember I was working on moving a line one day and Sunnie came out to me in the field. Mike and/or Shane wasn't there that day so he told me that no one was coming to help me. And then he said that I needed to keep the line straighter and we both looked back to see the pipe I'd already moved swerving every which way. Finally, he told me that he knew the pipe were heavy and I could take my time when carrying the pipe, but that when I walked back to get the next pipe, I needed to walk quickly. He didn't raise his voice at all or even speak angrily, just made it clear that I wasn't meeting expectations. (When I got older, I would run back to pick up the next pipe, not always an easy feat when the alfalfa was high).

I finished out the year (I made $1,359 dollars that year. My memory is that I was paid $4/hr, and typically I'd only work in the morning, helping to move the sprinklers, and then be done at noon. I remember the conversation I had with Sunnie and him asking me how many hours I was thinking I should work. I first asked him how long Mike and Shane were going to work, to which he replied, "from six in the morning until six in the evening." So I told Sunnie that I should probably work 6-8 hours a day, but he came back and said 4-6. We'd typically start at 8, and most days we'd just move the water in the morning and then I'd be done). But even though I'd made it through the year, I think neither Sunnie nor myself was sure if this was going to work out and if I would be back the next year.

The spring of 1990, Sunnie didn't reach out and neither did I until finally, I think at my dad's urging, I called and asked Sunnie if he was planning on me working for him again this year. I honestly don't know if he had been planning on it or not, but he said yes and we arranged a day for me to start work. That year went better and I don't remember there ever being a question again as to whether I would be back the next summer. I also don't remember if it was this summer or the next, when my buddy John joined me working on the ranch (Mike is John's brother and Shane is his cousin).

Some of the random things I remember about working on the ranch. Ten, two, and four was Dr. Pepper time. We'd take turns going to Jr Mart and buying donuts for everyone. Sunnie always saying "good enough for the girls we go out with" when talking about a job we'd finished. I also remember him sighing, "Awwwww heck." I also remember at the end of the day, when it was time to go home, he'd say "hasta manana." In the spring, during lambing season when the sheep and the shepherds were at the ranch, we'd eat breakfast and lunch in the bunk house. Before they eventually moved to ton bales, I remember stacking hay in the barn by hand and sending it to the top of the stack on the hay elevator.

It was working on the ranch that I learned about docking sheep and how it entailed castrating the males, by someone removing the testicles...with their teeth (and yes, I have done it, but only once). I remember that Mike and Shane would change out of their irrigation boots after we'd finished moving water into shoes that weren't so hot and heavy, but I was content to continue doing whatever else we were doing in my irrigation boots.

While there were plenty of times we screwed up or didn't do as good of a job as we should have, there was only once I remember that Sunnie got angry with us. Typically, we'd park whatever truck we were using at the edge of the field and mostly walk to move the sprinklers, but for whatever reason, on this occasion John and I were being lazy and drove his blue truck out into the field. We weren't careful enough and drove it into an area that was muddy from being watered and got the truck stuck. "No big deal," we thought. "We'll just go get the big tractor and pull the truck out." So we walked back to the ranch (which fortunately wasn't far) and got the big tractor and drove it back out to pull the truck out. I specifically remember saying to John while we were driving over, "There's no way we're getting this tractor stuck." But we did. I got out and was guiding John as he backed toward the truck, when suddenly one of the rear tires sunk deep into the mud. John quickly shifted and tried to pull forward, but the tire just spun and sank deeper. Our hearts sank as we realized this had now turned into something more serious.

We made our way over to the field where Sunnie was cutting or baling. Unknown to us, he had been watching the whole time. As we approached him, he said "Looks like you've been doing a good job over there," with an edge that we were not accustomed to. "Getting the truck unstuck is no big deal, but getting that tractor out is going to take some work." He then asked if we had got the water turned on in another field that we were supposed to be getting turned on. When we told him we hadn't, he said we'd better go do that.

After getting the water back on, we went and found Sunnie at his house, assuming we were going to be fired. (Another subtext of all this is that football had started and unlike later generations of kids who worked for Sunnie, we continued to work even during two-a-days. We'd go to practice in the morning, then go and move the water during the day, and then return for the evening practice. Because of everything that had gone on, we were getting close to needing to leave to get to football practice). Sunnie still wasn't happy but I remember him saying "I guess you guys will learn" and then after some further conversation, finally saying "hasta manana," confirming that we weren't fired after all. As I recall, John and I each quickly went home, changed clothes, and went immediately to football practice.

My buddy Aaron came to work with us on the ranch the next summer and on one of the first days, he got one of Sunnie's trucks stuck in another field (again we were being lazy and driving when we probably should have been walking). Probably having been told about the incident with the tractor, he became increasingly desperate to get the truck unstuck, and eventually removed his shirt and tried to shove it under a tire to get traction (it didn't work). On this occasion, Sunnie eventually came and pulled us out, without even a hint of irritation.

Another of my favorite memories of my time on the ranch was when I went and stayed for a week at the cabin in Evanston with just Julio (another long-time employee) to build a fence. It was just the two of us for the whole week. I stayed in the cabin and he stayed in his sheep camp. For the most part, there was nothing to do, but work. I remember on one of the days, we drove into town, and Julio bought me McDonald's. On another day, some cows had got out of where they were supposed to be and we had to go and herd them back into the right field. I had ridden a horse before, but not for years. I remember Julio telling me I needed to ride along this ridge "pretty fast" to get in front of the cows and turn them back the other way. I still distinctly remember the theme from "The Man from Snowy River" running through my head as I rode trying to head off the cows. We were able to get the cows back where they were supposed to be. I also remember there being a TV and a VCR in the cabin and there was a "Best of Johnny Carson" VHS there that I watched one of the nights.

Working on the ranch was a defining experience of my life and played a large part in the person I became. Sunnie, Janae, and Hatch were all huge influences in my life and have been lifelong friends. Before I went away to college, with my dad unable to at the time, Sunnie ordained me to be an elder. Hatch provided financial support for me when I went on my mission. And Sunnie, Janae, and Hatch all came and saw me in Mexico City while I was on my mission (they knew someone who was living at the Church-owned Benemerito and arranged for me and another missionary (Elder Fletcher) to go visit them and watch the BYU/Utah game with them).

Grateful for each of them and the positive influence they have had on my life.

Basketball

While ultimately I would end up being better at and having more success with football, basketball was my first love.

But sports in general were not of much interest to me when I was young. I believe my parents signed me up for soccer before we even moved to Grantsville. I don't remember any games or practices, but I do have a memory of my dad getting after me because my parents were looking all over the house for my cleats or shin guards or something while I sat on the couch and watched TV, apparently not too concerned whether I made it to the game or not.

Once we moved to Grantsville, I played a couple of years of t-ball. The first year I played, Danielle Estrada was my coach. I don't remember too much about that year, other than that to start the year, I was afraid of the ball, and therefore couldn't catch the ball. I played deep in the outfield. But then one weekend, we were at my Grandma Nalder's and I specifically remember my Uncle Carl playing catch with me and probably some others. And something clicked for me and I went from not being able to catch the ball at all to being pretty good at it. I went from deep in the outfield to playing pitcher and catcher. The other memory I have about that year was my neighbor Andrew Proctor, who was on my team (I think it was the same year, but maybe not), making an unassisted triple play. I think he was playing second and there were runners on first and second and he caught a line drive, tagged second to get the runner who had been on second, and then ran down and tagged the runner from first before they could get back. I mean, it was t-ball so the base-running could have been a little suspect, but still.

But oh yeah, basketball, I'm supposed to be talking about basketball. My first memory of basketball was my family and the Tripps being invited over to Matt and Lori Lawrence's for a barbecue not long after moving to Grantsville, and they had a basketball hoop in their backyard. I remember George and I shooting over and over, without any success. At some point, George informed me that he had already made one (I didn't see him make one, but whatever, I'm sure he did). Not wanting to be outdone, I lied and said that I had as well. Sometime later on that same evening, I did make one, and probably was a little too excited about it, especially since I had allegedly already made one.

Not too long after we moved to town, my dad put up a basketball hoop on our driveway. I wish I could remember who, but I'm pretty sure it was someone in town who made the standard. That driveway and that hoop would become somewhat of a sanctuary for me, particularly during my middle school years. 

I didn't start playing Junior Jazz until Fifth Grade (not sure if it was available to be played earlier than that or not at the time). I don't remember my coach's name (Dennis?), but he was married to Sherry Barrus at the time. I wasn't very good at getting the ball in the basket yet, but I could jump high and seemed to do alright that year. The following spring, the Jazz beat the Portland Trailblazers in the first round of the playoffs and then took on the mighty Lakers, who were trying to repeat as NBA Champions. The Jazz ultimately lost in a hard-fought seven-game series, but that is the point I fell completely in love with basketball. I rooted against the Lakers for the rest of the playoffs, and when they beat Detroit, I got so angry I ran to my room and ripped down a picture of Magic Johnson I had cut out of a magazine and taped to my wall. (The Lakers beat Dallas in seven games in the Conference Finals, and then Detroit in seven games in the finals. Three consecutive seven-game series, but they successfully repeated as champions).

That summer and into the fall I played basketball constantly, seemingly spending every spare minute shooting baskets in my driveway. (Where our house was on the corner of Main Street, anyone who drove past could see me out there shooting baskets. Janiece Snively once told my dad that whenever they were headed out of town they'd bet whether I would be out shooting baskets or not when they passed my house and that usually whoever bet that I would be out there would win). By the time basketball season rolled around again, I had improved immensely at being able to put the ball in the basket.

I don't remember if I played Junior Jazz the next year, but it was my first year playing Bantam basketball. Bantam was unique in that they had a draft and once you were on a team, you played on that team for all three years of Bantam basketball, and if you had any younger siblings that overlapped you, they would automatically be added to your team (this resulted in Mouritsens being on the Bulls for many years). I don't think Bantam is still around, at least not in the same form, but it was great at the time. I don't know if I can remember all the teams and coaches, but my recollections is that Steve Larson coached the Chaps, Brad Sutton coached the Stars, Jack Nelson and Kim Palmer coached the Bulls (the team I was drafted to), Kenny Nelson coached the Lakers, Roger Cowan coached the Celtics, and Jeff Hutchins and Loren Anderson coached the Bucks.

I only have a couple of memories of individual games. I think the way it worked, is that the first four minutes of the first and third quarters, the starters would play, and then there would be a timeout, and the younger kids would sub in for the last four minutes. My first game, our team got down in the first four minutes and I came in at that point and scored six straight points to get us back in the game, which we went on to win. I remember Josh Hill and Danny Andersen being on the team that year.

I don't remember much about my seventh grade year, but my eight grade year, I remember that Bob Silva was on my team and we were one of the best teams. My buddies Aaron, Dave, and Travis Tate were on the Lakers who were the other dominant team that year. My recollection is that we each went 9-1, with each of us winning one against each other. We lost the first game to the Lakers in a close one, sealed when we had too many players go into the game toward the end and got a technical foul. In the second game against them, it was tied as time was expiring. I drove to about the free-throw line area, elevated, and hit a shot over both Aaron and Dave as time expired to win by two. (I believe they both informed me that they could have blocked the shot, but were afraid they'd be called for a foul. Maybe). Definitely my single best basketball highlight to that point.

I do remember also playing Junior Jazz in seventh and eighth grade. In seventh grade, Roger Hunt coached us and it seems like we only had one Grantsville team and we mostly played other teams in the county. In eighth grade, I was coached by Gary Christley, and we cruised through the regular season, but were upset by Roger Cowan's team and his infamous Tiger Paw offense. Erich Christley, Spencer Parkinson, and Cass Bleazard are teammates I remember on that team, and Brent Cowan and Philip Ware were on Roger's team that beat us.

Going into high school, I definitely thought that basketball was going to be my thing, to such an extent that I chose not to play football as a freshman so that I could "get ready for basketball." (I'm sure the fact that I didn't like to get hit had nothing to do with it).

Our freshman year, we were coached by Roger Cowan and Don Wayne Nelson and had a great season. We only lost two games (at Millard and at Morgan). In the game at Millard, I not so subtly jumped on one of their player's back when he was down on the floor. Not one of my better moments. I don't remember a lot about specific games. I do remember that toward the end of the season, we had a one-on-one competition and a three-point competition and that I won both. Unfortunately, that year was probably when I peaked as a basketball player.

The next year, we were on the JV Team and would practice with the Varsity. Mark Hutchins was the head coach and Jeff and Mike Didericksen were his assistants. I don't remember too much about that year, other than that I was one of a couple of sophomores invited to dress for the varsity games, but I soon decided I would just as soon change and go watch the game with my friends. So I just stopped dressing without telling anyone. No one seemed to notice until the Varsity was winning big one game and Coach Hutchins went to put me in the game, only to find that I wasn't there.

Another JV memory I have was from our junior year. We had played at Manti earlier in the season and they had just destroyed us. On paper, they were definitely a more talented team, but when they came to Grantsville, we were motivated to redeem ourselves and came out and played the game of our lives. I remember leading by 25 midway through the third quarter. They made a bit of a run, but we still ended up winning by 12 or so. One of the most fun games I ever remember playing in.

That year, I would also play some varsity. We were playing South Summit at home and trailed by three late in the game, but had the ball. I don't remember who took the initial shot, but it missed badly, but someone on the team managed to corral the rebound. Several players collapsed on whoever got the rebound in the paint, and they pivoted to find me all alone (probably with good reason) angle right outside the three-point line. They threw it out to me, I took the shot, and nailed it, tying the game. When their last-second attempt missed, we went to overtime, where we prevailed.

My senior year, I don't remember a whole lot. I remember guaranteeing a win at Millard and following through on it. I remember losing a tight game at home to Morgan after John and me had both fouled out. I remember a close game against South Summit at home and thinking we had the game in hand when John was fouled and went to the line with only a second or two remaining, with us up by two. John missed the free-throw, a South Summit kid grabbed the rebound, heaved it the full length of the court, and banked it in, putting them ahead by one as time expired. But wait! The ball had bounced off the rafters in the ceiling mid-flight and was consequently waved off. We escaped!

We had a decent season, but lost to Juab on a last-second shot in the region tournament, which meant we didn’t go on to state. My high school career was over.

I didn't end up having as much success playing basketball as I maybe thought I would at one point. But I still love the game. And there's still nothing quite like playing basketball with your buddies.

(This ended up being longer than I thought, and I didn't even mention church basketball, or the Alumni Tournament, or basketball at the MTC. I know it was probably exhausting to read, but imagine what it was like to write).

Freshman year is my guess. Spandex!

Not sure what year this would have been, but more spandex!

Senior year against Millard.

Same game against Millard. Aaron and I boxing out as John blocks the shot.

Finding Grandpa Mouritsen

My Grandpa Mouritsen died in the spring of 2000, a little over a month before I married Jeanell. He had suffered a stroke many years before that, and so all of my memories of him also included the halting way that he spoke following the stroke.

Grandpa's life was hard. His own father died of appendicitis, exacerbated by being hit in the side by a baseball, before Grandpa was even born. Just before he turned four, his mother married a widower 18 years her senior (could have been worse, Jeanell), and they moved from Bennington, Idaho to Draper, Utah, which is where Grandpa would grow up, very poor, and with a stepfather who didn't treat him well.

As a teenager, he was famous locally for his dog Tip, whom he had taught a variety of tricks, and who went everywhere with him. In the summer of 1934, Grandpa and Tip were in Idaho, where Grandpa was working with the sheep. Tip ate some poisoned meat that a rancher had left out. Seeing that there was nothing he could do, Grandpa shot Tip and buried him at the origin of Pruse Creek and Crow Creek, northeast of Montpelier.

Several months ago, my cousin Stephen shared a newspaper snippet from with me, and asked if I was aware of the information the snippet revealed. I was not. The snippet was from the December 17, 1935 edition of the Salt Lake Tribune, and revealed that my grandpa had pleaded guilty to stealing a scarf.

Neither of us had heard this story, and initially it was nothing more than a curiosity, but as we looked at the dates and the information we had been told about Grandpa, we started to wonder if the version of events we had been told was not accurate.

We had had been told that Grandpa went to BYU on a football scholarship, but that the program was cutback after his freshman year, causing him to lose his scholarship, and since he did not have other means to pay for his schooling, he was forced to withdraw from school and work. Ultimately, he would only attend one quarter at BYU.

When we realized that the timing of the scarf theft matched up with what would have been the end of the one quarter he attended BYU, which was also when and where he first met my grandma, we wondered if he had instead been expelled due to the theft of the scarf. We imagined an alternate version of events where Grandpa had met Grandma, who grew up in better economic circumstances, and wanting to get her something for Christmas, but lacking the means to purchase anything, he resorted to stealing the scarf to give her, but was caught, and was expelled when the incident became public. As a result, he was never able to get a college education, and our fathers would also grow up very poor. This was our theory, but we needed to see if we could find some evidence for it.

I began to question whether he had played football at all, or if he had, if there had ever been a scholarship. I noticed that he had waited a year after graduating from high school before enrolling at BYU and that seemed odd to me, if he had in fact been given a football scholarship.

We started searching BYU's archives that were available online and found proof that Grandpa had in fact been a part of the football team as a halfback. And evidence that at least freshman football changed at the time in that they no longer competed against other schools. While no mention is made of the Depression being the cause of this change, it at least somewhat matches up with the story that football was cutback, causing him to lose his scholarship.

Still wanting to learn the truth about Grandpa's departure from BYU, I reached out to my friend Natalie (Tripp) Ipson, who works at BYU. She directed me to the university archivist, Cory Nimer, who I emailed, asking if he could direct me to any information about the end of my grandpa's time at BYU. Mr. Nimer was incredibly helpful and was able to find a letter my grandpa had written to Franklin S. Harris, who was the president of BYU at the time, as well as President Harris' response.

(Franklin Harris became the president of BYU in 1921, before he was even 40 years old. He was the first person with a PhD and the first monogamist to serve as BYU's president and is credited with transforming BYU from a glorified high school to a true university and his efforts to modernize BYU and promote academic freedom led to its finally being accredited in 1927).

The letters satisfied me that the theft of the scarf had nothing to do with Grandpa's departure from BYU. The story we've been told about the football program being cut and Grandpa losing his scholarship is probably the true one. Questions remain that we were unable to find the answers to. Did Grandpa pay the fine or did he spend time in jail? Did Grandma know about the theft of the scarf, and was the scarf to be a gift for her? And why did Grandpa sign his name "Glendale H. Mouritsen" (as far as I know, he does not have a middle name, and I have no idea what the H would stand for)? We may never know.

Researching Grandpa's life gave me a new appreciation for the trials he grew up with and the challenges he faced and helped me to know him in a way I didn't before.

Dating Jeanell (the high school years)

In the spring of 1993, Jeanell's relationship with my good friend Dave ended. They had been dating (or "going out") for more than a year. I don't remember exactly when or how it happened, but at some point over the next couple of months I became interested in her. It really hit home when I heard that she was interested in another friend and hearing that felt like a gut-punch. Fortunately, that relationship never materialized and at some point Jeanell and I became mutually interested. My one distinct memory from this time period was me taking a few friends home from school or some activity and strategically taking Jeanell home last. I don't remember much of what we talked about, but I'm pretty sure I said something like "I want to like someone, but there's just no one to like." (Mr. Subtlety here).

In the prior months, I had been kind of liking my friend and neighbor Ashley. I don't know that either of us felt that we were in a relationship, but we had been hanging out a little bit. That May was the series finale of Cheers, and as everyone knew that I was a huge fan of the show, Ashley had planned a Cheers. party to watch the series finale. But by the time the party rolled around, Jeanell and I were liking each other. I believe we did go to the party, but we didn't stay long.

In the early days of our relationship, we hung out with my friend Aaron and Jeanell's friend Amie, who had also recently started liking each other, mostly at Amie's house in the Old Church Subdivision. As school wound down, there was a Friday night that Aaron and I were supposed to meet up with Amie and Jeanell at Amie's house. But Steve Young was coming to Grantsville High School to make an appearance and Aaron and I were going to attend that first. But Steve ended up being very late and finally we left and at least to my recollection we never saw Steve. I've told this story before but this was the night that Aaron and I each told our parents that we were sleeping over at the other's house to give us some cover for a late night. We finally made it to Amie's, but Amie and Jeanell were not too happy with us because we were so much later than we planned. But ultimately they forgave us, and played for us the dedication they had done for us on the radio ("Turning to Journey now, and a dedication to Richard and Aaron, from Amie and Jeanell, it's 'Open Arms' on light FM100", I still have the recording).

We hung out for a while, but finally as it got later, Aaron said that we'd better go and we left (as it turns out, just in time), and headed to my house. As we pulled into my driveway, the headlights panned across our living room window to reveal my mom sitting in there, and knew something was up. Found out that someone (never found out who) called my house very late and asked if I was there, and my parents decided that meant I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be or at least not where I'd said I was, and my dad had gone to look for me. But things timed just right to where we were able to say we'd been at Aaron's and had just left to come to my house, and were going to sleep out on the trampoline.

Later that night, Jeanell and Amie sneaked over to my house and woke us up on the trampoline, and that's when Jeanell and I had our first kiss (I was later told it was too forceful, but I did eventually improve).

Our relationship went pretty well over the next month or so, although we were apart for at least a week of that as I went to football camp and Jeanell went to Alta (the improv theatre camp that some of the Esteem Team members attended). At the beginning of July, I went with Jeanell and her family as her brother Cam participated in the All-State football game, but by that point, Jeanell had cooled a bit on our relationship and shortly after that outing, she broke up with me.

At that time in Grantsville, we did a 24th of July program each year, and since Jeanell and I had been dating, we were partnered up for some of the dances. Now that word got out that we had broken up, the program directors wanted to make sure we still wanted to dance together. We both said that we did and ended up getting back together anyway just prior to the program. That night was also the first time I remember being aware of Brad's interest in Jeanell, as he sent his little sister Rachel up to Jeanell to say "My brother thinks you're gorgeous!" while I was standing right there next to her. (While I didn’t appreciate it at the time, I have to admit this was a baller move. What was I going to do?)

Jeanell and I remained together the rest of the summer. At one point, I went to a football seven-on-seven competition at Snow College and at some point while there the conversation turned to if we would let our girlfriends drive our cars. I remember Brad saying "I would let Jeanell drive my car..," and Brad's friend Dano, who is also Jeanell's cousin, trying to cover by saying "yeah, G'neil Givens" (who was a few years older than us). I was not fooled but have laughed about that several times over the years.

By the time school rolled around again, Jeanell was again not sure about our relationship and she broke up with me again right before school started. At this point, I was angry, and went out of my way to ignore her and/or make it clear I did not like her. She ended up checking into the same Seminary class as me and when she first walked into the classroom, I loudly declared "Ohhh, this used to be a good class." Later, I was walking down toward the football field for practice, and she ran and caught up to me and asked, "Why do you hate me?" to which I replied, "Oh, I know, I should just love you."

Not too long after school started, there was a back to school dance (I'm not sure when school started that year, but the first football game was August 27 and I'm guessing this dance was either that same night or the next night. I do remember it was at the tennis courts at the elementary school). Still upset about the breakup, I was determined to have a great time and I did, dancing up a storm. I had bought tickets to Cats and had planned to take Jeanell for her birthday, but since she broke up with me, I asked another girl if she'd like to go instead. I don't know if Jeanell was impressed by my dance moves or if she just decided she might still like me, but toward the end of the dance, she found me and asked if we could talk. We left the dance together and made up. The next Thursday, she rode to Gunnison with my parents for our next football game.

Since we were back together, I had to cancel the invitation to the other girl to go to Cats, which I cowardly did through another friend. Over the next few weeks and months, things were good. We went to Cats (and Village Inn!) on September 11, 1993, on what we consider our first official date. I went over to Jeanell's house and helped paint the kitchen while we listened to John Michael Montgomery sing "Life's a Dance" on repeat the entire time. Jeanell left a treat for me in our van during football practice and thought she'd lock one door to make me think I'd locked the keys in the van, not realizing that pushing the lock down on the driver's door would lock all of the doors. She could see the school parking lot from her house on Deseret Circle and looked out the window later that night to see my van sitting all alone in the parking lot. We watched the movies "Benny and Joon" ("500 Miles" from that movie is a song we consider as one of our songs, but our official song was "Please Forgive Me" by Bryan Adams) and "Pure Country" together. We'd get cheese fries at Nettie's and listen to country music on the radio in the Komfort Koach ("Chattahoochee" is another of our songs from this time). I went to a Soelberg family gathering at Mark and Lisa's place on Park Street following my record-setting rushing performance against Juab. We went to the Halloween dance together, albeit not in costume. Jeanell asked me to Morp (via the Soelberg's marquee. I answered by having Teryl Hunsaker, who announced the football games, call her out after or before a drill team performance and tell her that yes, I would go to Morp with her).

On November 6, 1993, we lost our final football game against Beaver. Later that night, Jeanell and I were watching Saturday Night Live at my house. Finally, it got close to when she needed to be home and I took her home (for whatever reason, we had my Grandma Nalder's white Ford Taurus at the time and that's what I drove her home in). We made out for a while in the car before she went in and things maybe went a bit too far. The next morning, I decided that we were getting too serious and this time, I broke up with Jeanell. The break-up was painful for both of us. I remember Jeanell bringing me a few of my items, along with a letter, and a mixed-tape (which I still have, Side A: Please Forgive Me and (Everything I Do) I Do It for You by Bryan Adams, In This Life and Let It Be Me by Colin Raye, Lately by Jodeci, Glory of Love by Peter Cetera, I Cross My Heart and Last In Love by George Strait, End of the Road by Boyz II Men Side B: I Love the Way You Love Me by John Michael Montgomery, Love Theme from St. Elmo's Fire by David Foster, When I Fall in Love by Celine Dion, I'll Be There by The Escape Club (also our Prom theme), Open Arms by Journey, Somebody by Depeche Mode, Love of a Lifetime by Firehouse, and Only Time Will Tell by Nelson) and sitting on my bed listening to the tape and reading the letter and just sobbing.

(As an aside, this is an area that I struggle with as I look back on it. Within the Church culture I had been raised in, I felt what I now consider to be an unreasonable amount of guilt over this. It's not that I think teenage kids should be having sex, but when it's talked about in the Book of Mormon as being "most abominable above all sins save it be the shedding of innocent blood or denying the Holy Ghost," that seems a little over the top. I also struggle with the need of such sexual sins needing to be confessed to priesthood authorities, particularly in the case of young women confessing to older men. I'm not up to speed on what the current rules are but I hope they've changed).

We were already planning on Morp, which was the next Saturday, and determined that we'd still go together. We doubled with George Tripp and Kim Stookey. We ate dinner in the conference room upstairs at the store. After the dance, we went and sat in the hot tub at Jeanell's Uncle Mark and Aunt Lisa's house. I'm not saying that things went a little too far again on this occasion, but I'm not not saying that.

So we continued, officially broken up, but effectively still interested in each other. Somewhere in this time period, Jeanell asked me to be here promenade partner and while Jeanell was gone on a family vacation to Disneyland, I sneaked into her house to both answer her for promenade and to ask her to Prom. To answer her, my mom made her a quilt (which we still have) and sewed some letters to spell out "YES." To ask her to Prom, I recorded myself singing my own lyrics to the tune of Adam Sandler's Thanksgiving Song. "Jeanell, I really like you a lot. If you were fry sauce, I'd be your tater tot." (I don't think I intended that to be sexual).

Jeanell returned and accepted my invitation to Prom, but as we got to Christmas, it was the beginning of the end. By that time, we were both officially and effectively broken up. I believe Jeanell had started hanging out with Brad again in the days after Christmas. While it seems that there were times that we were friends again over the next few months, it seems we also drifted further apart. At some point, Jeanell "unasked" me from promenading and asked someone else and so then I was asked by someone else to promenade. I decided I still wanted to take her to Prom, but our friendship had dried up and by the time Prom rolled around we hadn't spoken for some time and were both interested in other people.

Prom was a big deal, but not quite the extravaganza it has become. I went and took the ACT the morning of the Prom (as did several other Juniors). When I returned home, I decided I'd play a little joke and called Jeanell and told her I was sick. She understandably did not like the joke and hung up on me. I quickly called her back and apologized and said that I had been joking. Prom itself was pretty good. We went and ate at Five Alls on Foothill Boulevard. During the dance, my promenade partner asked if we could take a picture and while I was gone doing that, Brad asked Jeanell to dance and I returned to find them dancing, which didn't make me happy. But we made it through the evening and ended the night watching a movie together (can't remember what movie it was, maybe "Some Kind of Wonderful"). I gave Jeanell a hug goodnight, not knowing that would really be goodbye.

I had had some feelings rekindled and called her the next day, I think hoping maybe that our relationship could continue, but it was too late. Jeanell had moved on. By that fall, she was pregnant with Devin and in December, she married Brad.

That chapter of our life together was over.

Halloween Dance

Why yes, I will

Morp

Smiles all around when picking Jeanell up for Prom

More smiles

Final shot as we prepared to depart in the limo

The official Prom photo

Everyone having a great time

 

Dad

This past Thursday, July 11, 2024, my dad would have turned 75. On that occasion, his beloved wife and the majority of his posterity were able to gather at the home on Eastmoor Drive where we grew up, enjoy some pizza, cake, and ice cream, and reminisce about my dad.

My mom, Jeanell, and sisters- and brother-in-law recalled their first meetings with him and first impressions. About how he could sometimes be intimidating, but that the intimidation was balanced by his goofy sense of humor. My mom talked about meeting him at BYU when she attended a Sunday School class he was teaching and being impressed with his knowledge of the gospel. Jeanell recalled how he would bang on the wall if he had gone to bed and we were being too loud in the family room on the other side of that wall. Jeanell also remembered coming to our house after my youngest sister McKell was born and how my dad was so tender and protective of his long-awaited baby girl.

We talked about his numerous sayings: "Nice to see me," "Pardon the growth," "Drive safely, the life you save may vote Republican in [whatever the next election year was],"Patience is a virtue, possessed by few, especially when it comes to you," and "I've told you a million times not to exaggerate!"

We talked about his relentless optimism and enthusiasm. How he always was convinced that he lived in the best ward in the best stake in the best community and that his kids attended the best high school. He also believed that he worked at the best temple (the Salt Lake Temple) and we wondered if he ever would have been able to realign his loyalties to the Deseret Peak Temple. (My mom related how my dad had asked President Hales years ago if there would ever be a temple in the Tooele Valley, to which President Hales had responded, "Not in your lifetime." When a temple was announced for the Tooele Valley, my dad, who was still alive at the time, went back to President Hales and asked if he knew something my dad did not. Apparently he did).

Alan reflected on how my dad was very introspective and always seeking to improve himself. Alan's example was that he had seen my dad get physical with me (which I do not recall), and then felt bad about it and decided that would not be him and improved. I remember as a young child, one of my dad's expressions was "Good Godfrey!" until I pointed out that you couldn't say "Godfrey" without saying "God," at which point I never heard him use that expression again. My dad was one to make schedules and lists of goals or tasks he wished to accomplish. Right up until his death, he went to the gym five days a week.

(I don't ever remember my dad getting physical with me. The one related memory I do recall is when Scott and I were very young, before we even moved to Grantsville. We had been misbehaving to the point that we were both to receive "bare-bottomed" spankings. I remember sitting and awaiting our punishment, but when the time came, he just lightly tapped us both on the butt and that was the end of it).

My dad preferred teaching and quoting scripture to anger and yelling when correcting his kids. (There were exceptions. We all remember an occasion when he had asked us to mow the lawn before he left to work and when he returned to find the lawn still un-mowed, said in a very stern voice, "I am mad. I am damn mad." Since my dad rarely used the d-word (at least at that point of his life), that was enough that Scott had the lawnmower started and moving across the lawn within two minutes). Alan told a story at my dad's funeral of a time when a few of my brothers (certainly not me) had watched a movie my dad felt was inappropriate, but that rather than chewing them out, he turned to the scriptures, and the story of Joseph who was sold into Egypt and avoiding temptation.

We talked about some of our favorite memories. I remembered how as a young teenager, in a late night conversation with my dad about feeling frustrated that my basketball skills were not improving, he asked if I wanted to go shoot baskets right then, which we did, with him rebounding for me until well after 10 PM. My dad was also supportive of our own efforts at self-improvement and I remember many early mornings when he would take me to a church gym to shoot and work on my skills.

Brent recalled his favorite memory of my dad catching Brent and Kevin mooning each other, but was unable to contain his laughter, to the point that he had to go and get my mom to reprimand them.

My dad could begin laughing uncontrollably, sometimes at the most inopportune times. When my Uncle John blessed his youngest daughter Emma, he asked my dad to give a blessing on the food at the gathering afterward. But something struck my dad as funny and try as he might, he was unable to compose himself. My mom had to intercede and finish the prayer.

My dad could be tender-hearted and at different times was fairly easily moved to tears, but invariably, a few seconds after he would begin to cry, he would burst into laughter.

My dad had his flaws, but I do believe he was a force for good in this world. I believe he had a positive influence on many, many people and that his impact and legacy continue on.

I love you, Dad. Happy Birthday!

Eastmoor

My dad, who began his career as a teller at First Security Bank, accepted a job as the manager of the Zion's Bank branch in Tooele sometime in early 1983 and decided he wanted to move closer to his new employment. My dad's job was in Tooele and I believe my parents focused their search there, but never found anything they felt right about. So they expanded their search to Grantsville.

Toward the east end of Grantsville, there was a fairly new development, on a street that had been named Eastmoor Drive. The street ran south from Main Street, maybe a quarter mile east of where Main Street intersected with Highway 112 (the Tooele Turn-Off), which ran southeast to Tooele.

(Eastmoor lay in a section of Grantsville that had been known coloquially as Stringtown. There were few houses along Main Street on the east end of town in a "string." Stringtown ran from Willow Street east to the turn-off onto Erda Way, more or less. Matthews owned the land east from Willow Street to the Family Dollar. Alex Johnson owned everything south of Main from Family Dollar east to the turn-off to Erda. The Ratcliffes owned North of Main from the Booth Farm east to Vern Fawson's. And then Fawsons owned on the north side from Vern's east to Tooele Valley Meats).

The street was distinguished by the red brick walls that ran east to west along Main Street and then curved south around the corners of Eastmoor, terminating in large brick pillars with streetlights atop them. My parents found a red-brick house on the corner of Main and Eastmoor, on the east side of Eastmoor. It had originally been lived in by the Reber family, but they had moved and were selling it and my parents knew it was where they would raise their family.

(Eastmoor was developed on land owned by Verl Johnson, by his daughter Tanna and her husband, Bob Hicks. It was Tanna who chose the name Eastmoor. I don't ever remember seeing or knowing Bob, but it was a name we all knew. At some point one of the neighborhood kids was sitting on the wall bordering our property and my mom told them to get down, which they did. But then when my mom went back in the house he climbed back on the wall and told me defiantly that only Bob Hicks could tell him to get off of the wall).

When we moved to Granstville in June of 1983, there were only four homes on Eastmoor. The house my parents had just purchased on the northeast corner, Johansens (Christy, Rachel) next to us on the east, then Tripps (G.A. (at the time), Jake, Jeff) on the west side of the street across from Johansens, and Proctors (Teresa, Lori, Andrew) across the street from us on the northwest corner.

Behind us on Main Street lived the Youngs (Vicky, Bobbie, Danielle, Lucas - not long after we moved in, Danielle, who is around my age, was celebrating a birthday. I heard what sounded like a good time from my backyard and so climbed up on the wall to investigate. Mary, (Danielle's mom) saw me spying and invited me over to the party, such a kind gesture to the new kid that I remember to this day) and a couple houses east of them were the Henwoods (Chad, Bill, Angela). These are the houses that initially made up what I would call our neighborhood and the kids that I would play with throughout my childhood.

The street would grow over time, but looking back it was pretty gradual. Bolinders (Michelle, Aubrey) built a home south of Tripps (they would later move further south and to the east side of the street and Garry's mother Dorothy would move into the home south of Tripps). Johansens moved pretty early and Archers moved in south of us. Later Sandbergs (Ashley, Brock) would build a home south of Archers. Over the years, the Wells, the (Kendall) Sandbergs, the Lloyds, the Lees, Mary Toone, the Boulards (Nick, Rachel) would fill out at least a good portion of the street to what would become 130 South.

But initially it was mostly fields and dirt hills and there was a small grove of trees (known by us simply as "the trees") south and east of Eastmoor where we'd go and play and explore.

Riding bikes to Handy Corner was a common activity and I recall on one occasion riding there with Andrew Proctor. Along the way, we passed by a kid in his front yard along Main Street and for whatever reason the kid started yelling at us "f***ers!" I had never heard that word at the time, but could tell from the kid's tone that it was some kind of insult so I did what anyone else in such a situation would do and yelled it back at him. Andrew, who did know the word, and also knew that I shouldn't be saying it, immediately put his hand over his mouth in disbelief. But I continued shouting back and forth with this kid until we were out of sight.

I never had a BB or pellet gun, but I'd go to the trees with Chad and Bill and their guns and they'd shoot birds and we'd then go and find them and catch them and take them home in a box or something. I doubt that ever ended well for the birds. I also remember catching a muskrat and having it in a box and we'd take it up into the playhouse in Henwoods backyard and block off the door and then let the muskrat out and sit on the chairs and pull our feet up so it couldn't get our feet. Not sure what we were trying to accomplish, other than maybe a tetanus shot.

I have another memory of accompanying Chad, Bill, and Big Bill to hunt pheasants in the fields south and southeast of Eastmoor. My family were not hunters so it was a new activity for me and as we crept quietly through the fields, I started to whistle. After a few minutes, Big Bill turned around and asked, "Who's whistling?!" I guess that wasn't helping with the element of surprise.

(I didn't know this at the time, but Big Bill had initially been married to Jeanell's mom's cousin Kristine and they had a son, Craig, who was Jeanell's 2nd cousin. I would also later learn that Big Bill brought back the body of my friend Aaron's uncle Richard Craig (but known as Dude), who was killed in Vietnam).

Night games were a frequent occurrence on Eastmoor. Annie-I-Over, Kick-the-Can, and Capture the Flag are the three I remember most distinctly. And our house seemed to be the typical location where these games were played. I think these are pretty typical and established games, but for Capture the Flag, we'd run a hose across the middle of our backyard and a good part of the game would consist of extending your arm over the barrier and trying to get someone to grab your hand at which point you'd pull them across to your side so they'd then be in jail.

We would also play whiffle ball and football in our backyard with the neighborhood kids. I don't know at what point it started, but my dad and Al Chatwin would take a bunch of kids from the neighborhood as well as Al's sons Scott and Peter and go down to the city park where we would play tackle football. I don't remember anyone ever getting seriously hurt but on one occasion Sam Hulet wandered over from his house on Cherry Street to play with us and his glasses were broken somewhat quickly.

Pretty early on my dad added a basketball standard to our driveway, and though there was a slight slope, we would spend hours and hours both shooting baskets and playing basketball games. Epic games of Guts were also a common occurrence.

Justin Richardson, who was a few years older than I was and lived across Main Street, would come over and practice his bike tricks on Eastmoor. I never really learned many bike tricks like Justin could do, but I remember riding bikes on the street with him while he would ride and perform all kinds of tricks (standing up on the bike while it was going, bouncing on a single tire, etc.).

One year my parents got us a trampoline for Christmas. I still remember my dad getting emotional about it when they told us because I think it was a stretch for them financially. There was snow on the ground when we went outside to see it and under the trampoline you could see a large divot in the snow because my dad had done a "bummer" on the trampoline after getting it set up.

After that time, trampoline games were added to the neighborhood fun. We'd play crack-the-egg of course, but we also invented a game we called "The Blob" where one person would start out as The Blob and they had to stay on their knees and they would try to grab and pull the other kids down. If you got pulled down, you became a part of The Blob and joined in trying to pull people down. But the kids who were part of The Blob had to stay in contact with each other.

I think Bill broke his leg on the trampoline and I know I slammed my shins on the frame attempting a backflip, but given the number of kids and the amount of time that were spent on that trampoline, there were remarkably few injuries.

I'm so grateful my parents found that red-brick house on the corner. Eastmoor was a pretty great place to grow up.