A Spoonful of Sugar

A few weeks ago, Dave (my other dad) dropped by unexpectedly with a gift. (I can't speak for others who benefit from his generosity, but speaking only for myself, this happens much more often than I deserve). In this instance, he had purchased some running shoes for Lila, Jeanell, and myself. He had just picked shoes out for us, but gave us the receipt in case we needed to exchange. In my case, I need a wide shoe, and so knew that I probably would need to go the Salt Lake Running Company in Centerville to make the exchange.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. Jeanell and I had been wanting to go and see "Michael" and Lila was working so we planned a little date night to go see it. Usually we would go to one of the Salt Lake area theatres, but remembering that I needed to exchange those shoes decided  we could kill two birds with one stone (sorry PETA) and go see the movie in Davis County, exchanging the shoes beforehand.

Most of the time, I go to the Megaplex website to find a theatre, and if I had on this occasion, I would have discovered that there was a Megaplex theatre less than a mile from the running store we needed to visit. But for whatever reason, this time I went to the Cinemark website, saw that "Michael" was playing at the one in Farmington, and purchased tickets for the 6:25 show.

We left Grantsville at about 5, which didn't leave us a ton of time to make the shoe exchange. I had seen the Megaplex theatre when we got off the freeway and even though I'd already bought tickets at the theatre in Farmington, thought again about buying tickets for the 7:00 show at the Megaplex just to give us a little more time, but Jeanell said we'd be fine.

We went to the running store and made our exchanges, which took a minute because they ultimately couldn't order the shoes I needed through their vendors. We left for Farmington a little later than planned but still in time to take the movie.

Of course, when we arrived in Farmington we wanted some snacks, and pizzas, but the pizzas had to be cooked, which took a few minutes. We didn't end up getting into the theatre until after the scheduled start time, but with all of the previews, were there in plenty of time to see the movie.

The movie was good and we both enjoyed it. I have some conflicting thoughts about the topic in general and how appropriate it is to have a celebratory movie about a person credibly accused of the things that Michael was, but that's a topic for another time. For now, we just enjoyed the movie and the music.

Following the movie, we still had some pizza and popcorn that we were planning to take home, but each needed to use the restroom so we took turns. While Jeanell was in the restroom, I had the popcorn bag balancing on top of the pizza box, but took a misstep and tipped the box, spilling almost all of the popcorn onto the floor. A woman and her granddaughter had walked past me just as I spilled the popcorn and I hear the granddaughter ask her grandma if it had been their fault as they walked away. It was not.

Jeanell came out of the restroom, looked at me, looked at the mostly empty popcorn bag, looked at the popcorn strewn all over the floor, then back at me. Our eyes met and we both burst out laughing. When I came out of the restroom, a theatre employee was in the hall sweeping up the popcorn. I felt bad.

Finally, we headed outside and back to our car, but as we walked past P. F. Chang's, I saw one of my good friends, Shelly Anderson Neilson, who had just left the restaurant.

I mentioned Shelly in my post about my friend George back in 2024. We first met at Engineering State up at USU between our Junior and Senior years of high school (summer of 1994). We were friends all through college. Shelly was a dynamo who knew everyone and was involved in everything. While I was in Mexico City on my mission, she was elected as USU's student-body president. We were great friends but hadn't seen each other in person (at least that I recall) since my and Jeanell's wedding in May of 2000.

I met Shelly's husband Reid, whom I had never met. We talked briefly about Ed and Cindy Cole serving in their mission while Reid and Shelly served as mission presidents. We talked about Shelly trying to attend my farewell back in 1996, but getting lost and missing it. I told Shelly and Reid about helping a friend find a talk given at BYU, which turned out to have been given by Reid, who quoted extensively from a message Shelly had given while they served as mission presidents (tl;dr: this is exactly what you signed up for, Shelly can get you a sticker). We talked about my recent mishap in the produce department at Soelbergs.

Jeanell knows Shelly as well. When Jeanell and I first started dating, we went to USU's homecoming with a group that included Shelly. We only talked for a few minutes, but it was fun to run into her and visit, albeit briefly. And then we both went on our way.

As I think back on that night, it was quite a sequence of events that put Jeanell and I passing by P. F.  Chang's just as Shelly and Reid were exiting. Some people believe that there are no coincidences, that everything happens for a reason. I, on the other hand, very much believe in coincidences.

But that doesn't make them any less fun.

Cars (Part 2)

I don't quite remember the exact sequence of events, but at some point Carl and Rachel generously gifted us their red 2003 Oldsmobile Alero (which we still own) and we traded in the Caravan for a tan Dodge Durango. And for a while, those were our two vehicles. I believe Jeanell primarily drove the Alero and I drove the Durango.

My least favorite memory of the Durango was an occasion where we had traveled to Salt Lake for the Tabernacle Choir's annual Christmas concert and were staying overnight. I assume we were headed back to our hotel after the concert but I'm not completely certain. What I do know is that the Durango died at a busy intersection downtown. A Good Samaritan got out of his vehicle and helped us get it pushed out of the way and we were able to call a tow truck to come and get it and eventually got it fixed. But having it die at that intersection was not a fun experience.

I also remember spinning out in the Durango on Rocket Road in Tremonton, but fortunately (undoubtedly due to righteous living), it spun right into a little driveway and came to a stop. I just pulled back onto the road and continued my trip, perhaps a bit more cautiously.

The Durango eventually began to leak oil. I remember I would take it to get the oil changed at Walmart and every time they'd make me sign something because the initial oil level was too low.

We decided the Durango had run its course and that we should probably just get another car since we were both commuting and weren't driving with all seven of us much because the boys had moved down to Grantsville to live with their dad.

So I drove over to Hansen Motors one weekday in 2011, told them I wanted to trade in the Durango, and that I didn't really care what car I got. I just wanted it to run and wanted to be able to pay it off fairly quickly. By some coincidence, Thurl Bailey was there when I went to do this and I got an autographed picture and took a pic with him.

And then I drove home in a 2006 Chevrolet Impala. And as seemed typical for the vehicles that I chose without Jeanell's input, Jeanell hated it. I do remember the water pump went out not long after I purchased it (which Hansen replaced and didn't charge me for it). But just as happened with the other car I brought home that Jeanell hated (the Camry), fate intervened.

I bought it in October. One morning before the end of that year, I had just dropped Lila off at her babysitter's home in Honeyville and was headed down Highway 38 to work in Brigham City. The roads were not good that morning and sure enough as I went around a gentle curve, I slid right off the rode, down a ravine, through a fence and into the middle of a field. Fortunately, I was unhurt. I called dispatch because I wasn't sure what to do. Since I didn't know exactly where I was, I had to call them back using 9-11 so they could locate me. While waiting in the field for the police to arrive, two other cars slid on the same curve where I had. I also remember the farmer who owned the field coming over to me and making sure I knew that I would have to pay for the fence. Then he asked me if I was okay.

The police came and after making a report, I was able to simply drive out of the field and continue on to work. But after filing a claim and beginning the repair process, the car was declared a total loss. After only a couple of months, Jeanell was once again free of a car she despised.

Once we got the insurance check and paid off the loan, we went back to Sherm's Store together and purchased a white 2004 Infiniti G35 with 83K miles on it. It was the first "higher-end" car that we had owned and we both really liked how it drove.

But not too long after we purchased it, we were headed out to Grantsville and while headed west on I-80, a cinder block appeared in front of me on the road. It happened pretty fast and I don't know if there were cars around me so I couldn't swerve around it or if I just thought I'd clear it, but I just tried to drive over it and with the low clearance of that car, it did not go well. It tore up the car pretty well and after another insurance claim and being without it for a good while, we got it repaired and back. We drove it another seven years and 90K miles or so before we donated it to the Kidney Foundation in 2019.

Just before we moved back to Grantsville for Elwood, we found a black 2003 Acura MDX being sold by a private seller. We bought it, fixed it up a little bit with some help from our friends and Archibald & Sons, and brought it out with us when we moved.

So we made the move to Grantsville with the Alero, the G35, and the Acura. And those would be the three cars we used for the next four and a half years.

In June of 2018, we decided it was time for another car. Jeanell and I looked around and decided on a 2017 Land Rover Discovery Support with about 6K miles on it. We drove that car for the next five years, got it paid off and other than it being somewhat of a magnet for rock chips, never had any real problems with it.

That changed shortly after we paid it off. The check-engine light came on and we took it in to the Land Rover dealership in Lehi to have it looked at and learned that the needed repairs would cost $10K. Around the same time, one of the tires failed and all four had to be replaced. But we loved the car and decided it should last us quite a while longer and we wouldn't have a car payment so we decided to make all the repairs.

Shortly after, Jeanell was stopped at the stoplight at Maverik headed east when she was rear-ended by a commercial truck for an HVAC business or something. Initially I don't think the company thought the damage was too extensive and wanted to cover it without going through insurance, but when a repair shop came back with the estimate, they decided we would need to go through insurance. And as luck would have it, it ended up being a total loss.

We looked for a bit to see if we could find a replacement that we could buy outright with the insurance check, but it soon became obvious we weren't going to find a car of the same quality. So we used the insurance check to pay ourselves back for the repair costs and went out and bought a 2023 Mercedes-Benz GLA.

So far, our luck has been pretty good with this car. We have had to replace the windshield twice already, but we opted for the windshield insurance so that's worked out.

So today, Jeanell primarily drives the Mercedes, I drive the Acura (now 20+ years old with nearly 230K miles), and Lila and Caleb more or less share the Alero (now 20+ years old with about 190K miles).

And there you have it, the history of the cars in my life to this point.

Cars (Part 1)

When I told Jeanell about this potential blog topic, her response was "Bo-ring!" And it probably will be. But I felt I/we had had enough adventures/misadventures with our various vehicles through the years that it was worth documenting.

I believe I've made some mention of some of the vehicles my family owned growing up. But the vehicles we had when I got my driver's license were a forest green Ford Taurus and a bluish-gray custom van that we called the Komfort Koach (or KK for short).

I have no idea the actual make and model of the Komfort Koach. I believe it actually had the words "Komfort Koach" somewhere on it. A couple of things I remember about the KK was 1) that its roof sloped upward from the rear of the vehicle and came to a point right behind the front seats (this became a problem when we drove it to Vegas to visit my dad and pulled it into a parking garage at Circus Circus) and 2) it had a very small television mounted in it. I remember sneaking out of church one time to watch the end of a Ute NCAA Tournament game (I'm thinking the Josh Grant years). The KK's other claim to fame was that it was the vehicle I was in when I was driving people home and took Jeanell home last shortly before our relationship started.

The Taurus was what I was driving when I was driving Jeanell and her then-boyfriend Dave around on New Year's Eve our sophomore year. My other memory of the Taurus came my senior year when I was driving to my friend Aaron's house and was blinded by some oncoming headlights and turned at the wrong spot and went right up over the curb at a pretty good clip. I didn't think too much of it, but the Junior Prom was shortly after that and even though I was a senior, I took a date and we went to Salt Lake in the Taurus. I noticed it wasn't driving quite right, but I didn't think too much of it. The next week my dad asked if I had hit anything (I think I told him I couldn't think of anything. I don't know if I ever fully came clean) and then went on to inform me that the alignment had been screwed up and all four tires ruined during my drive to Salt Lake. Oops.

My first two years of college I didn't own a car. Looking back I'm not sure how that worked. My friend and roommate George had a car and I'm sure that helped, but I guess I had to rely a lot on other people to get to the grocery store and whatnot. Seems like I still managed to get home nearly every weekend.

The summer before my junior year of college, I finally bought my first car. I don't recall the year, but it was a Mercury Sable that we bought from the owner somewhere in Tooele. That's the car that got me to and from Logan while dating Jeanell. After I got married, the car went to my brother Scott and he took over the payments on the loan. That didn't end up going too well for Scott. I don't remember all the problems it had, but I do recall Scott giving me a ride from Logan back to Grantsville at one point and the heater had stopped working. I remember Scott bundled in a big coat and these big winter gloves on. That was just how it went. I always said I'd buy him a car at some point to make up for having him take over the Sable. That hasn't happened yet.

When Jeanell and I got married, we used her vehicle, a Nissan Altima. It was a stick-shift and while I can/could drive a stick, it wasn't something I would claim I was particularly good at. Not too long after we moved up to Logan, we decided to upgrade our vehicle. We went and looked and found a Subaru Outback that Jeanell really liked. We decided to purchase it, but I was a little stressed about the payment, which was over $400/month. I have no idea what the interest rate or term was. I don't remember where the dealership where we purchased the vehicle but they had some kind of three-day return policy. We took the car home, but then I got cold feet and decided we needed something a little cheaper. So I took it back and got a Toyota Camry, a Toyota Camry whose previous owner was a smoker. But I didn't realize the smoke-smell when I test drove it so I signed the papers and took the Camry home.

Jeanell wasn't happy about the switch to begin with because she really liked the Outback, but when she got in and smelled the smoke, she was understandably even less happy. I decided I'd go get the car detailed and see if they could get rid of the smell. I found a place up in Logan and took it to get detailed and while I think the smell was a bit better, it still wasn't great.

Just after getting the car detailed, I got a call from the dealership and they asked me to come back in. I went back and I remember walking in and the salesman telling me, "I've gotta put you back in the Outback." I've never understood exactly what happened, but I guess in trying to work out the financing for the Camry, they noticed things like that Jeanell had put Soelberg's as her place of employment, but we lived 100 miles from Soelberg's. I didn't understand why that wouldn't impact the loan for the Outback, but I guess since it had already been approved, we could take the Outback. So we did. We exchanged the freshly-detailed Toyota Camry for the Outback, which is the car Jeanell wanted anyway.

We drove that car for a few months, but Jeanell became pregnant with Caleb and we realized that we would need something with six seat belts for our growing family. I believe it was New Year's Eve when we went to a Ken Garff dealership where Terry Baird and Bob Butler were working at the time and Bob sold us a forest green Dodge Grand Caravan (if I remember correctly, he said it was the first car he had sold). I don't know that I really understood it all at the time, but we were hopelessly upside down by that point (especially since we'd only driven the Outback for a few months) and I believe we were paying like 11.9% interest or something ungodly like that. Jeanell had never wanted to drive a minivan (and that was the only minivan we've ever owned) but it was the vehicle we needed at the time.

Time went on, Caleb was born, I finished school and got my first job and we moved to Ogden. Jeanell decided she wanted to work. She interviewed at the Walmart within a half mile of where we lived (we were in the Pinebrook Apartments at the time, but when we bought our first home in early 2002, we moved less than a mile, just to the other side of Washington Boulevard) and at the Old Navy in Layton. Both offered her a job, but Walmart offered $10/hour based on her experience in retail. Old Navy offered her $6.25/hour. She really wanted to take the Old Navy job, but between the difference in pay and the commute, she ultimately went to Walmart (she would work at Walmart for 12+ years and in three different stores before finally returning to work at Soelberg's).

Anyway, with Jeanell working we decided we needed and could afford a second vehicle, but we did not agree on what that car should be. I found a nice little Nissan Altima that had lower miles and would have been a lower payment. Jeanell found a blue-green Ford Expedition. I tried to convince her that we didn't need two vehicles that would hold 7+ people, but to no avail. She was going to pay for the new vehicle with her earnings so it was her choice. We went with the Expedition, the first of multiple cars that we would buy from Sherm's Store in Ogden, and the occasion of one of my most infamous photos (To be fair, I believe the Gilligan hat was given to us as part of the sale. The rest of the outfit is all me).

We drove the Expedition and Grand Caravan for a while, but at some point, Jeanell was perusing the Sherm's Store inventory online and a shiny red convertible Ford Mustang caught her eye. I don't remember if I was opposed to it or not and if so, to what extent, but suffice it to say, we traded in the Expedition and drove away in the shiny red Mustang.

My main memory of the Mustang was that it did not do well in the snow. We bought winter tires for it and put them on every winter, but I still had multiple slide-offs in that car. One night we left Grantsville fairly late to drive back home to Ogden and spun out on I-80 and ended up in the median, blowing out one of our tires. We finally made it back to Dave and Carol's about 1 AM.

Our garage in our Ogden home was not very deep and as it turned out, neither the Mustang nor the Grand Caravan would fit in the garage so we parked them in our driveway. We went out the morning of Devin's baptism to find that someone had smashed out both the front and rear driver's side windows of the Mustang. Since that happened we rarely lock our cars and just don't leave anything of value in them. Figure we'd just as soon someone open the door and find there's nothing in there and break the windows and find there's nothing in there.

The Mustang is the only car we sold to someone. I remember meeting the guy in the parking lot of the Brigham City Walmart to deliver it. And that he brought his brother (or friend) with him to pick it up and that as soon as I turned it over to them, they put the top down and drove off. Later, I realized we still had the winter tires for it in our garage. I texted the guy and asked if he wanted them. Never got a response.

I didn't intend this topic to extend to multiple posts, but this has turned out to be longer than I anticipated and I still have twenty plus years of cars to get through...stopping here for now. 

Great-Grandpa Mouritsen's Death

In what I would maybe describe as mildly ironic, I have become more interested in family history since leaving the Church than I ever was when I was fully-invested. While I'm not focused on making sure the temple work is done for my ancestors, I do find learning the details about their lives fascinating. Especially when there are different accounts, and the details vary enough to make you wonder what the real story is.

Growing up, I had often heard the story about how my Great-Grandpa Mouritsen was hit in the side during a baseball game, leading to appendicitis, and ultimately his untimely death, roughly two and a half months before his first child, my grandfather, was born. When I later read actual accounts, I learned that Grandpa had abdominal pain prior to being hit with the baseball and that the hit seemed to exacerbate, but didn't cause, the appendicitis.

A while ago, I got from my Aunt Kathy two documents that contained the story and I found it interesting the details that were different between these two accounts and also between those and the account with which I was more familiar in the Mouritsen Family History Book.

I am going to reproduce the three accounts I am familiar with here, along with some of my interpretation and commentary on the differences (in bold).

This is the account from the Mouritsen Family History Book (which I believe was written by my Uncle Stewart):

"On June 8, 1915 Glen purchased a resident fish and game license at Montpelier, Idaho. From this we get a better idea of what he looked like. On this license he affirmed that, 'I hereby certify that I am twenty-three years of age, am five feet and eleven inches tall (I'm 5'10 1/2", but sometimes I round up), weight two hundred pounds (I was 196 this morning), am light complexioned, have light hair and blue eyes, and that my residence is Bennington, County of Bear Lake, State of Idaho.'

Glen played on the Bennington baseball team as catcher. (His son Glen (my grandfather) still has his father’s catcher’s mitt. (This would have been true at the time this was written, but my grandpa passed away in 2000. I'm not sure who has the catcher's mitt currently)) One day in early July, the team had an important game to play in Fairview, Wyoming (I don't know how many people lived there in 1915, but as of 2020, Fairview, Wyoming was home to a whopping 277 people). When he left he had some stomach pains which he thought were from indigestion. During the game he was hit in the side with a fastball, and he immediately got much sicker. It was undoubtedly a long, painful ride back home. At the Montpelier Hospital it was determined that his appendix had ruptured. Dr. George F. Ashley did everything he could for him. It soon became apparent that Glen would not live. He signed a will dated July 10, 1915 which said that, 'In consideration of my love and affections for my wife, Nettie M. B. Crane Mouritsen (my Great-Grandma), I, Glen Mouritsen, give, grant, deed, and deliver all my property. The will was witnessed by L. T. H. Hottendorf, Susan E. W. Mouritsen (Great-Grandpa Mouritsen's mother, my 2x Great-Grandma), Lester Lindsay (Great-Grandpa Mouritsen's brother-in-law, husband of his older sister Vara), and James G. Crane (Great-Grandpa Mouritsen's father-in-law, my 2x Great-Grandpa). Glen asked his father-in-law if he would take Nettie back into his home, which James Crane consented to do.

Bertie Rich (Great-Grandpa Mouritsen's younger sister, who would have been 16 in 1915) recalls that:

'Nettie begged Dr. Ashley to let her go in and see Glendale. He said he would on the condition that she would not break down while in Glendale’s room. Nettie took some time to compose herself. She went in, picked up Glendale’s hand, and just stood and looked at him for a few minutes. She kissed him, said goodnight and turned to leave the room when Glendale said, "So-long Kid." They both knew that was good-bye.

'After Nettie left, Glendale turned to his father and asked him to pray for him to go. Mourits (Great-Grandpa Mouritsen's father, my 2x Great-Grandpa) cried and couldn’t talk. Then Glendale turned to Dr. Ashley and said, "Doctor, you’ve done everything you could to save my life. Now please pray for me to go." Lizzie said they all knelt down, and Dr. Ashley prayed that Glendale could be free from pain, and for God to please relieve him from his suffering and let him go. Mother said Dr. Ashley gave the most humble and beautiful prayer she had ever heard. After that, all the pain and misery stopped; and when they asked Glendale how he felt, he said, "I am not in one bit of pain anymore."

'Nettie had some relatives who lived just across the street from the hospital. She went there and sat by the window watching. Finally, she saw Mourits and another man leave the hospital and she knew they were coming to tell her Glendale was gone. Lizzie said Glendale was too perfect to live on this earth, and that God had a greater mission for him on the other side.'

Glen died July 12, 1915. He was buried in the Bennington Cemetery. Nettie was buried next to him when she died in 1960."

This account I was most familiar with growing up. It doesn't include a lot of dates, so my impression was that everything happened in pretty quick succession, the baseball game was one day, was in the hospital the next day, and died the day after that. But it does mention the will being signed on July 10. Since July 12 was a Monday, this is the first indication that Glendale was actually in the hospital for some time before he died. The final account makes that clear.

Here is my Aunt Kathy's account from her history of my grandpa and grandma:

"Nettie was expecting in early July (Great-Grandpa Glendale and Great-Grandma Nettie were married December 23 (Joseph Smith's birthday), 1914. My grandpa was born October 2, 1915. Not a lot of time was wasted. You do the math.) and the Bennington baseball team had an important game in Fairview, Wyoming. Glendale had a rig in which he made the forty-mile trip. It would take a day to get there and a day to return. When Glendale left for Wyoming, he had some stomach pains which he thought were from indigestion. During the game he was hit with a fastball and he immediately felt worse. Glendale began his trip home with a boy named Hall (Was this his first name or his last name? How old was this kid? And why did Great-Grandpa take him with him?). By the time they neared Montpelier, he was feeling much better (not sure if this is what happened here, but it seems that after your appendix bursts, there is some temporary relief from the pain) and, being concerned about Nettie, he drove to the Crane Ranch north of town instead of to the hospital (we'll see that this is different from what is said in the third account, which says that he didn't go to the hospital because it was closed on Sunday). Glendale felt very sick in the middle of the night. Nettie got George (George would have been 17 at the time), her youngest brother (George is not Nettie's youngest brother. That honor goes to Nathaniel. Nathaniel would have been just a few days short of four at the time), to ride to Montpelier to get the doctor. George rode Patty, thought to be the fastest horse in Bear Lake County (was there a county-wide race that Patty won?). The doctor came in a horse drawn buggy out to the ranch. When he saw Glendale his tone became urgent. 'He needs to go to the hospital immediately.' The doctor took Glendale in his buggy. The next day Nettie, her father and Glendale’s father and mother went to Montpelier to see Glendale (from this account, I am again assuming that Nettie went to see Glendale on Monday). At the hospital, the doctor determined Glendale’s appendix had ruptured. Dr. George F. Ashley did everything he could for him but it was soon apparent that Glendale would not live.

(I wonder about the timeline on the return trip. I guess we don't know what day the baseball game was on or what time but if it took a full day to make the trip home, seems that Glen wouldn't have made it back to the Bennington/Montpelier area until quite late on Saturday night. How many hours does it take to go 40 miles in a horse-drawn rig? What were the roads like?)

Glendale’s sister Bertie recalls:

'Nettie begged Dr. Ashley to let her go in and see Glendale. He said he would on the condition that she would not break down while in Glendale’s room. Nettie took some time to compose herself. She went in, picked up Glendale’s hand, and just stood and looked at him for a few minutes. She kissed him, said goodnight and turned to leave the room when Glendale said, "So-long Kid." They both knew that was good-bye.

'After Nettie left, Glendale turned to his father and asked him to pray for him to go. Mourits cried and couldn’t talk. Then Glendale turned to Dr. Ashley and said, "Doctor, you’ve done everything you could to save my life. Now please pray for me to go." Lizzie said they all knelt down, and Dr. Ashley prayed that Glendale could be free from pain, and for God to please relieve him from his suffering and let him go. Mother said Dr. Ashley gave the most humble and beautiful prayer she had ever heard. After that, all the pain and misery stopped; and when they asked Glendale how he felt, he said, "I am not in one bit of pain anymore."

'Nettie had some relatives who lived just across the street from the hospital. She went there and sat by the window watching. Finally, she saw Mourits and another man leave the hospital and she knew they were coming to tell her Glendale was gone. Lizzie said Glendale was too perfect to live on this earth, and that God had a greater mission for him on the other side.'

Glendale Mouritsen died July 12, 1915, and was buried in the Bennington Cemetery."

This account is also light on dates. Just from reading it, I would assume that the baseball game was on Saturday, Glendale went to the hospital on Sunday, and then died sometime on Monday.

And this is the account compiled by my grandpa's sister, Thelma, and her husband (technically, Thelma is my grandpa's half-sister, daughter of my Great-Grandma Nettie and her second husband, Roy Boulter. I find it sweet that she put forth the effort to compile this history of her brother's father):

"On June 8, 1915 he purchased a resident game and fish License at Montpelier, Idaho. Here he affirmed that, 'I hereby certify that I am 23 years of age, 5 ft. 11 in. tall. My weight is 200 lbs., light complexion, light hair and blue eyes and that my resident is Bennington, County of Bear Lake, State of Idaho.' (again, includes Great-Grandpa's self-description for his game and fish license. I guess photos were too cumbersome to include on these licenses at the time, so you'd instead describe what you looked like).

In early July there was an important ball game in Fairview or Afton, Wyoming. Glen played with the Bennington town team. When he left home he had stomach pains he thought was indigestion. During the game he was hit in the side by a fast ball and immediately became worse. The doctor diagnosed him with appendicitis and said since it was Sunday for him to go home and they would operate on Monday (This of course differs from the previous account which says he didn't go to the hospital because he felt better. I hope it wasn't truly the case that hospitals were closed on Sunday. I hate to think that my Great-Grandpa died because he got appendicitis on the wrong day of the week.) Nettie was six months pregnant and stayed with her parents while Glen was gone. They brought Glen back to the Crane ranch. That evening he was holding Cornelia (Cornelia was Nettie's youngest sister and was eight at the time) on his lap when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a 'Steely' marble that was his taw to play marbles (I don't know enough about marbles to know what a "taw" is.). He always carried it with him. He put it in her hand and told her he wanted her to have it in case he didn’t see her again (This seems a little out of place, where in this account the doctor told him to go home and they would operate on Monday, but he's giving his eight-year-old sister-in-law his marble in case he won't see her again). She says that was the last time she saw him. His Grandson, Seth (umm...Stewart), has the marble now. Alice (another of Nettie's younger sisters, 15 at the time) said he was always holding Cornelia on his lap. During the night, Glen’s appendix ruptured (damn those Sunday hospital closures!). Bill (In the previous account, it was George who road to town to get the doctor. In this account, it was another of Nettie's brothers, Bill (who I'm sure went by William later in life), who would have been ten at the time. Note also that instead of going into town to get the doctor, he went to get the horses and wagon to take Glen to the hospital. No mention of the fastest horse in the county.) said his father got him up and sent him to get the horses and wagon. He said they carried Glen on a mattress to the wagon. His father, mother and Nettie got in the wagon and went to the hospital. This was in the early hours of Monday, July 5, 1915 (Note that this was a full week before Glendale would die.). Bill said that was the last time he saw Glen. When his father came home Glen had sent a message to thank Bill for getting the horses.

Doctor Ashley confirmed [he had a] ruptured appendix and said it had gone too far to operate. As the peritonitis increased daily his body became more swollen. Alice said they wouldn’t let Nettie see him. In the Mouritsen Book his sister, Bertie, reported that Nettie begged to see him and Dr. Ashley agreed on one condition, that she would not break down while in Glen’s room. She took time to compose herself, then went in and picked up Glen’s hand and stood and looked at him for a few minutes, then kissed him and said, 'Goodnight' and turned to leave the room and Glen said, 'So long, kid.' (With the context that Glendale was in the hospital for a week before he died, I wonder at what point this final meeting took place. Was Nettie only able to visit him once the entire week he was in the hospital? Once the doctor determined it was too late to operate, were they just waiting for him to die, or were there still steps that could be taken to save him? There was an antibiotic, salvarsan, that was available after 1910. What that used in his treatment? I've researched a bit and a ruptured appendix is not necessarily a death sentence, though I'm sure survival rates then were lower than they are now)

In the Mouritsen book it states that when Nettie had gone, Glen turned to his Father and asked him to give him a blessing. His father was overcome with grief and felt that he couldn’t so Glen told Dr. Ashley that he knew that he had done everything he could and asked him to give him a blessing and ask the Lord to relieve him of his pain and let him go. Dr. Ashley did as requested and Glen then asked Nettie’s father if he would take her back into their home. Her father readily agreed.

Glen had written a will, properly witnessed. His son, Glen, has that will and also his father’s catcher’s mitt. (again, I'm not sure who now has the will and mitt, since Grandpa died in 2000. I have this vague memory that my dad had it at one point, but now I'm not sure).

Glen died Monday, July 12, 1915. He is buried in the Bennington Cemetery.

Mama died October 22, 1960 and was placed next to him. (Glendale and Nettie were married for less than seven months before Glendale died)"

Despite the discrepancies in the accounts, I find this story to be very poignant. I often wonder if it could have been prevented and how different Nettie and my grandpa's lives might have been, if not for Great-Grandpa Glendale's early death.

Glendale Mouritsen

Glendale is third from the left, holding the catcher's mask

Glendale Mouritsen

Looking Back

With last week's post, I achieved my goal of posting for 52 consecutive weeks. I also seemed to strike a chord with several as last week's post got more than twice as many views as any other post I wrote over the past year. I doubt I will surpass that any time soon.

When I began this writing journey a year ago, I didn't know exactly where it would take me. But I have to say that I have found the experience extremely rewarding. I've had people tell me that they feel like they know me so well now, through reading my blog. I've been gratified when people have reached out and let me know that a particular entry resonated with them. And I have been thrilled when people have messaged me excitedly about being mentioned.

When I started out on this endeavor, I put together a long list of various topics I could write about. I still have 17 of those potential topics I haven't written about. As of now, I plan to continue writing at least until I run out of topics.

But for today, I'm going to do what any decent sitcom would do after 52 episodes, and punt with a "clip show." In case you've missed any, here are my Top Ten most-read posts of the last year (in descending order, number of reads in parentheses. Incidentally, not many read about our cat, Callie):

10. Childhood Chaos (207)

9. Caleb (219)

8. Voice of the Cowboys (220)

7. Dave (224)

6. Meeting Jeanell (248)

5. The Mission (266)

4. The Church (269)

3. Dad Goes to Prison (310)

2. Dating Jeanell (the high school years) (346)

1. Leaving the Church (741)

Thanks for reading.

Leaving the Church

I want to start off with a disclaimer. If you're an active, believing member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, this might not be a post you want to read. While I don't intend to harp on anything specific or attack the Church, I do intend to explain some of the thoughts I had that ultimately led me to decide the Church wasn't true (and ultimately that there isn't a God, at least not a God that takes an active interest in the affairs of humankind).

As detailed in last week's post, I spent most of my life as an active, believing member of the Church. My first encounter with what I would consider to be anti-Mormon information came my first year of college, amid one of my first forays onto the Internet. I remember being in a computer lab at Utah State and opening a web browser (Internet Explorer, probably, but possibly Netscape) and being impressed that I could search for information on any topic, innocently typed "Mormons" into the search box (since Google didn't exist yet, must've been AltaVista).

I was initially shocked by some of the information I read that day. While I guess on some level I obviously was aware that not everyone believed in Mormonism, I don't recall ever having contemplated that people took exception or questioned specific claims that the Church made. Seems naïve to me now.

I remember returning to my apartment and just feeling sick. I didn't feel that I had ever had my faith questioned in this way and I wasn't ready for it. I even remember questioning if I would be able to serve a mission. But over time, and with scripture study and prayer, I overcame these doubts, and ultimately followed through with serving a mission, which I'd always thought I would.

To some extent during my mission and to a greater extent after I returned home, I became interested in apologetics. I spent time on the FAIR Mormon site and took comfort in seeing the scholars who would give necessary context to explain the claims made against the Church.

But as I became more educated, my faith was forced to evolve. When I was younger, I rejected evolution. But as I learned more, I adapted my views and decided that God used evolution to bring about the creation of the animals. When I was younger, I believed that the Prophets and Apostles talked directly to God as they would do another person, but as I got older, and looked at some of the mistakes made by church leaders, I adapted my view and decided that it was just as hard for Prophets and Apostles to receive revelation as it was for the rest of us. I would say that pattern continued for many years, with me continually learning new information and then me trying to fit that information into my belief system, adapting my beliefs in God and the Church to fit with the scientific information that I also believed to be true. I considered myself an informed member of the Church. I was familiar with many of the issues raised in the Gospel Topics Essays and had made my peace with them, and was able to continue living my faith.

Sometime in 2013, the doubts I had became more intense and I had a harder time reconciling my secular knowledge with my religious beliefs. While I had doubts about some specifics of Mormonism, my doubts were really broader than that. I found myself continually revising my concept of God, trying to make Him (or Her) and His attributes make sense with the realities in the world. So I imagined a God who had set these natural laws in place (or perhaps was subject to some natural laws) and for the most part allowed those to play out. That is why there was so much suffering and tragedy in the world. At certain times, he would intervene with the natural laws and cause something different to happen. Why or under what conditions he would intervene, only He knew.

But ultimately these explanations fell short of giving me peace of mind. This life seemed too chaotic and full of contradictions for me to believe that it was all the plan of an omnipotent, omniscient God. Under God's plan, why would it be most beneficial for some people to never hear the Gospel and spend their lives suffering while for others it would be better for them to hear the Gospel and live their lives in relative comfort. I became familiar with Occam's Razor (the simplest explanation is usually the correct one) and realized that a simpler explanation for the realities we observe in the world was that there was no God, rather than that there was a God, but He helped some people find their car keys while he allowed others to die of disease or starvation.

From there, I started thinking about Moses 1:39 "For behold, this is my work and my glory, to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man." If that was God's whole purpose, why did he create a universe and allow it to sit empty for billions of years before man even came on the scene. And if the universe hadn't really sit empty for billions of years, why did God try to make it appear that it did? Was he trying to deceive us? ("I'm going to make it look like everything happened naturally, but then if you decide not to believe in me, you're damned!") I also thought about 2 Nephi 2:25 - "Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy." If God wanted man to be happy and happiness came from living the Gospel, then why did God's plan result in the vast majority of humans who lived not ever even hearing about the Gospel. We're talking about a God who is omnipotent and omniscient and this is the best he could come up with?

Either there was a God who had this amazingly complex plan for the benefit of His children that only He could understand or there was no God. I ultimately decided that the universe and the world made more sense to me if there was no God than if there were a God.

I started having other doubts as well. I read part of Richard Bushman's biography of Joseph Smith, "Rough Stone Rolling." Bushman is an active Church member, but also a good historian. He would write the factual record, but then try to put a positive spin on it. For example, he talked about Joseph's treasure hunting and his family's spiritualism, but then opined that he needed to have those characteristics in order to be open to the experiences he would have. I found myself surprised by the facts and unconvinced by the spin.

Other items have bothered me. The Church's opposition to gay marriage. The priesthood ban. And I also began to question, if we are actually a Church of continuing revelation, why does it seem we are always on the trailing rather than leading edge of social change?

I also began to question the Church's epistemology (way of obtaining knowledge). We're taught that we can know if something is true by the Spirit, but ultimately we can only experience the Spirit through our mind. And being told we're supposed to feel a certain way in certain situations can have a powerful effect on our minds. I've certainly had experiences that I would describe as "feeling the Spirit," but have reached the conclusion that the emotions I might feel about something has very little to do with its veracity.

Despite deciding the Church wasn't true, I continued to participate in the Church. It was all I knew. I was the ward clerk in the bishopric in Elwood and then when we moved back to Grantsville and were living with Jefferies I again served as the ward clerk in the 5th ward. I started to pay less tithing and never attended the temple, but I still went to church every week.

It wasn't until we moved into Carriage Crossing and I met with then-President Collings and told him my feelings that I began to really step away from the Church. To his credit, he was somewhat supportive and suggested I tell my family how I felt (meaning my parents and siblings, my wife and children already knew where I was religiously, or at least Jeanell did). I met with Bishop Allred on multiple occasions and talked through what I felt with him. I taught a youth Sunday School class for a time. But we separated ourselves more and more. Lila chose not to be baptized, and we supported her in that decision. Tyler and Brayden both briefly flirted with the idea of going on missions, and Jeanell and I tried to support them while they considered it, but when they ultimately decided not to, everyone stopped attending but me. I only continued to attend because I still had a calling as a youth Sunday School teacher. I would go and teach my class and then leave for a while, but finally Bishop Allred released me in the summer of 2017 and I haven't been back (other than to support family when the occasion arises).

Having said all that, something that separates me from a lot of the fo-mos (my preferred term for those of us who have left the Church) I interact with is that I don't hate the Church. I'm not resentful of the money I paid in tithing. I don't regret having served a mission. I don't think the Church is a scam. I think even Joseph believed (or at least came to believe) in his own prophetic calling (Joseph is tough for me. I think there had to have been times when he knew he was deceiving people, but I also believe that on the whole, his life (and death) make more sense if he truly believed in his prophetic calling). I think Russell M. Nelson really believes the Church to be true. And I'd go as far as to say that even as an atheist, I think living a life that follows the principles of the Church is a perfectly valid way to spend mortality, especially if it provides purpose and makes you happy. Most of my extended family continues to participate in the Church and I don't try to dissuade them from doing so. If it makes them happy, I support them in that.

But I don't believe that living the Gospel is going to result in any reward in the hereafter (nor do I believe that there is a hereafter) so if participating in the Church is not how you want to spend your time, money, and energy, then I don't think you should. That can be tricky if different partners in a marriage have different feelings on the subject. (Jeanell and I were pretty much on the same page when we left). If Jeanell had wanted to continue in the Church, I would have tried to support her in that because ultimately my marriage and my family is more important to me than being in or out of the Church.

I feel like I'm basically the same person I've always been. I'm still happy. I still find purpose and meaning in my life. The people I loved when I was involved with the Church, I still love. And as far as I can tell, they still love me. I still try to be good and kind. I still have standards as far as what I consider to be right and wrong. I'm still just Rich(ard).

I guess if there's anything I hope to achieve by writing this, it's just that we should love and respect each other, regardless. In the Church or out of the Church shouldn't matter in our relationships. If someone decides to leave the Church, don't assume they are weak or that they have failed, and if someone decides to stay, don't assume they are uninformed. Ultimately, we're all just trying to figure life out and find happiness for ourselves and those that we love. Let's focus on helping each other do that.

And whether you've left the Church or you are still in and have someone you love who has left or you've left and are concerned about someone you love who is still in, just love and respect each other and I promise you it's going to be ok.

I love you all.

(I didn't have a good picture to accompany this post so I had Meta AI generate this image of me leaving a church building. I don't think I'm that tall. Don't zoom in on my eyes).

(Alternate image that my son Brayden created, using AI to merge my face with Ryan Reynolds').

 

The Church

For the majority of my time on this earth (up through at least 2013 and to some extent through 2017), a major focal point in my life, around which nearly everything else revolved, was my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As recently as 2011, I wrote a short bio for the "I'm a Mormon" campaign that was active at the time (unfortunately, the next President of the Church, Russell M. Nelson, declared that campaign (instituted by his predecessor Thomas S. Monson) to be a "victory for Satan" (he didn't say this explicitly. What he did say was "To remove the Lord's name from the Lord's Church is a major victory for Satan", followed by what I would describe a quite vigorous effort to remove the term "Mormon" from everything that was practical, so draw your own conclusions. I would have thought that if President Monson were actively helping Satan, God would have told him as much, or removed him from his position, which I guess he did eventually, when President Monson died in 2018...at the age of 90)).

Those who have read my blog frequently (or who live within my current ward boundaries) are aware that I no longer participate actively in the Church. I plan to write about my journey away from the Church next week, but today, to give some context to that forthcoming piece, I wanted to write about some of my memories, mostly, if not all, positive, that I have of growing up in the Church.

As the oldest child of parents who were active adherents to the faith, my instruction on all things related to the Church began at a very young age. I don't recall exactly how old I was, but do know that before I knew the alphabet or could count to a hundred, I could recite the names of all of the Prophets of this dispensation, in order, up to and including the Prophet at the time of my birth, Spencer W. Kimball.

In the house I grew up in, we followed the enhanced version of the Word of Wisdom, where we not only eschewed alcohol, tobacco, coffee, and tea, but caffeinated soda was also forbidden. Like most families, we weren't perfect, but we did strive to hold weekly Family Home Evenings and would read the scriptures every morning before school.

My social life in my young years, such as it was, was based very much on Primary activities and parties. I have a distinct memory of attending a Primary Halloween party one year and I had dressed up as PeeWee Herman. I was asked to give a prayer to start the activity and when the other kids failed to quiet down and I stood ready to pray, I paraphrased one of PeeWee's lines from the movie and said "Shhhh! I'm trying to say the prayer!"

One of my fondest memories when I was young was attending my dad's church softball games. I can't remember where they played (I want to say Erda, but can't picture where that field was in present-day Erda. Maybe it was Pine Canyon? I know it wasn't in Grantsville). Our ward had a good team in those days and I can still remember most of the men who played on those teams. Arlo Fawson, who was the bishop of the ward, the Grantsville 2nd, when we moved to Grantsville, was the pitcher. Bishop Fawson was a terrific horseshoes player, and that talent served him well in softball. He had a high-arching, spinning pitch that was difficult to hit but always seemed to find the mat behind home plate to indicate a strike. Al Chatwin played first base, Jerry Lees was second base, Kendall Sandberg was short-stop and Brad Sandberg (I think) played 3rd. My dad played left field (where he would occasionally draw the ire of the opposing team for "showboating" because he would imitate Willie Mays basket catch (catching the ball underhand at waist-level, almost nonchalantly, for the uninitiated)).

The men who played the other positions probably changed, but a particular team I remember featured Doug Drury (who never came to church, but loved to play softball and was probably the best overall player) at center field and Albert Boulard in right field. John Ed Millward played catcher.

As I got older, I participated in Young Men's and Scouts, and have memories of various campouts (to Simpson Springs or Brad Clayton's Kamas cabin during the winter). I remember going skiing at Nordic Valley (the only time in my life I have been skiing, and which ended with me taking quite a tumble down the bunny hill near the end of our outing) and chasing raccoons with Russell Johnson and his hounds.

As I entered my teenage years, I moved from Primary into Sunday School and have a couple of humorous memories from those classes.

In the Book of Mormon, there is a story about a prophet named Abinadi (uh-bin-uh-DIE is how I always heard it pronounced and I believe that is correct). One week in Sunday School, our now former bishop, Arlo Fawson was filling in and the lesson was about Abinadi. But Bishop Fawson was pronouncing it "aa-bi-NA-dee" and I remember being so confused. Since the details of the story matched those that I was familiar with, I finally raised my hand and asked, "Do you mean uh-bin-uh-DIE?"

A few years later, I was in a Sunday School class taught by Nelda Eggett. We were watching a movie one week and I was sitting at the back of the classroom with my leg extended through the hole in the back of and my foot resting on the chair in front of me. After turning out the light and starting the movie, Sister Eggett came back to sit down and, unable to see clearly in the semi-darkness, went to sit on the very chair I had my foot resting on. I quickly attempted to pull my foot back, which I did, but I didn't get it cleanly through the hole in the back of the chair, and inadvertently pulled the whole chair back, causing Sister Eggett to fall as she went to sit down. Thankfully, she wasn't badly hurt and she forgave me (it really was an accident), but I always felt bad about that.

One year, I attended a Fathers and Sons outing (again at Brad Clayton's family cabin in Kamas) and ended up sleeping in a tent with my buddy John and his dad and brothers. But during the night, his dad started snoring quite loudly and after a while I couldn't take it anymore and took my sleeping back outside the tent and spent the rest of the night sleeping just outside the door of the tent.

My family used to sing the Church hymn "Teach Me to Walk." The kids would sing the first verse, my mom and dad would sing the second, and then we'd all sing the third. I don't know how good it was, but I do remember singing it in multiple sacrament meetings, including at my farewell, before I left on my mission.

One of my favorite memories from my later teen years was blessing the sacrament with by good friends Dave, and George, and John. We were all in the same ward and over the years that we were priests (from sixteen to eighteen or so) were able to bless and administer the sacrament together on multiple occasions.

For the most part, I felt that I did what I was supposed to do. I read my scriptures, I attended seminary, I didn't swear, I said my prayers. Since my dad was unable to while he was disfellowshipped, I baptized my brother Kevin and confirmed my brother Brent. I served a mission.

After I returned from my mission, I continued to be what I considered to be quite devout. Jeanell and I married in the Salt Lake Temple. I held various callings in the Church, including Elder's Quorum President and Ward Clerk (twice). I also taught Primary, youth Sunday School, Gospel Principles, and probably my favorite calling while I was active in the Church, teaching Gospel Doctrine.

As a family, we weren't perfect, but much like the family I grew up in, we went to Church, and had weekly Family Home Evenings, and would read the scriptures as a family.

But while I sincerely feel that I tried my best to do the things the Church taught that I was supposed to, I wasn't always 100% in. There were stances the Church took that I struggled with and episodes from Church history that I had a hard time reconciling. And eventually I left. But I'll get into that next week.

Nauvoo Temple with Jefferies Family (2003)

Jeanell and I at the Nauvoo Temple (2003)

Logan Temple (2012)

Brigham City Temple (2012)