New York 2024

I am typing this post on my phone as we fly home from our latest trip to New York City. I still have several different topics I wish to write about at some point, but for today, I thought it would be easiest to just tell about this trip.

I’ve previously described my and my family’s love of musical theater. Consequently, our vacation of choice is to go to New York City and see Broadway shows.

My first trip to NYC did not happen until after I had married Jeanell. I believe the year was 2004 and we went with the adults in the Jefferies family. We went to the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Empire State Building, and Ground Zero. And I saw my first show on Broadway (The Lion King).

In 2009, Jeanell and I took our older boys (Lila was about six months old). On that occasion, we again saw the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building, along with the Museum of Natural History. The NBA Store and a dinner cruise were other highlights. On this occasion we again saw one more show, this time Wicked (incidentally both The Lion King and Wicked are still running).

That was it for me for a while. I didn’t make it back until 2016 when Jeanell and I went and saw Hamilton (along with Waitress and Beautiful) for my 40th birthday. But that opened the flood gates as we have made several trips back since.

Jeanell and I went back in 2018 and saw six shows (Hamilton, Waitress, and Beautiful again, as well as Dear Evan Hansen, Book of Mormon, and Miss Saigon).

We took Lila for the first time in October of 2021, as Broadway was opening back up after COVID. On that trip we saw Chicago, Little Shop or Horrors, Waitress, Moulin Rouge, and Six.

Six months later we returned in the spring of 2022 and saw Company, Jersey Boys, Betelgeuse, and Book of Mormon. We then came back with Devin, Kareena, Dave, Carol, Collin, Connilyn, and Uncle Scott and saw The Music Man, Dear Evan Hansen, Book of Mormon, Six, Moulin Rouge, and MJ. This was the trip where I first met my friend Elias.

Last spring we came back with Uncle Scott and Lila and saw Sweeney Todd, Bad Cinderella, Funny Girl, A Beautiful Noise, and Phantom.

In the fall, we came back with Tyler and Brayden and saw Sweeney Todd, Hadestown, and MJ.

We hadn’t been in over six months so clearly it was time to go back. Jeanell, Lila, and I all wanted to see the revival of Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along, which was set to close soon so that moved our trip up somewhat.

Our typical pattern was to fly in either early Thursday or late Wednesday so we could see shows Thursday, Friday, and then two on Saturday, two on Sunday, and fly home on Monday. But shows have moved their matinee from Sunday to Wednesday so this time we moved everything up a day to be able to hit the Wednesday matinee.

We hoped for six shows, but there was some disagreement on the sixth show. Jeanell wanted to see The Notebook and Lila wanted to see Back to the Future. Fortunately Jeanell found that one of the shows we wanted to see had a Thursday matinee rather than a Wednesday matinee, meaning that we were ultimately able to see both shows with a new record, for us, of seven shows in four days.

We took a red-eye, leaving Salt Lake just before midnight MDT and landing in Newark a little after 6 AM EDT. We took a taxi to our hotel (due to what seems to me a counter-productive law, taxi drivers in New York cannot pick people up in New Jersey and vice-versa. This meant my friend Elias could not pick us up from Newark. It also means that cabs that pick up in New Jersey and drive to New York, or vice-versa, return empty, which doesn’t help the traffic).

We arrived at our hotel about 8 AM EDT and fortunately they had a room ready for us so we were able to go and sleep for a few hours before getting ready for our first show at 2 PM EDT. On this trip, we stayed at the Renaissance, which wasn’t bad, but our favorite place to stay is still the Marriott Marquis. (We’ve also stayed at the Westin and Townplace Suites, the Renaissance was somewhere in between).

Our first show was Back to the Future (7, this is my ranking of the shows we saw this trip), which turned out to be my least favorite of the trip. While I love the movie and have watched it several times, it seemed to be what I’ve heard referred to as a “Why?” musical, where the musical doesn’t really add anything or say something new about the source material on which it is based. The best songs were the songs that were in the original movie. Some of the special effects were pretty cool, but for me, that was really the only good thing about it.

We grabbed some lunch/dinner at Juniors after the show. We typically don’t get too much into the dining scene and on many trips we eat at Juniors multiple times, but this was the only time we ate at Juniors on this trip.

Later that night, we saw & Juliet (3),  a jukebox musical based on the music of Max Martin (who wrote songs sung by Brittney Spears, Backstreet Boys, and Katy Perry, among others). I hadn’t been particularly excited to see this one, but ended up really enjoying it. The story is that Shakespeare’s wife (Anne Hathaway, one of the jokes is Shakespeare saying “There will never be another Anne Hathaway”) creates an alternate version of Romeo & Juliet where Juliet lives. I enjoyed both the Shakespeare humor and the way the modern music would fit into the story.

We returned to our hotel quite tired. I went and picked us up some Krispy Kremes and a couple slices of pizza from Ray’s Pizza (an errand I would repeat nightly). When I got back to the hotel one of the nights, I shared the elevator with a big black guy and his wife/girlfriend. He leaned over to me and said “you got some good snacks.” I laughed and replied “yeah, nothing like some late night donuts and pizza.” I saw the same couple again the next day as we were headed down and they asked how my snacks were.

That’s one of the things I love about New York. You run into people from all over the country and world, all different ethnicities and religions, and everyone just gets along. In my experience, people don’t just ignore each other, but they go out of their way to engage and be friendly.

The next day, our first show (again a 2 PM matinee) was The Great Gatsby (5) based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel. I am quite certain I read the book in high school but found I remembered almost nothing of the plot (Jeanell and Lila both read the book in the week or two leading up to our trip). The music was pretty good but I hadn’t heard it prior and I’ve learned you often have to hear the music a time or two before you really appreciate it. Other than that, it was a pretty faithful retelling of the novel, with some events added.

That night (after dinner at Glass House Tavern), we saw The Notebook (6), which again had some decent music (by Ingrid Michaelson), but just retold the Nicholas Sparks novel and was similar to the movie starring Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams (incidentally Rachel McAdams is currently appearing in the play Mary Jane on Broadway, for which she was nominated for a Tony).

Friday, we didn’t have an afternoon show so we walked to Lincoln Center and Julliard, ate lunch at Tavern on the Green, and then rode bikes around Central Park, which ended up being a bit more exercise than we were planning on.

That night we went and saw Cabaret (4) at the August Wilson Theatre, which has been remodeled to resemble the Kit Kit Club that is the primary setting of the show. The production quality was superb but it was setup for theatre in the round, which isn’t always my favorite (sorry HCT). I’m sure it’s just psychological and they face each direction equally but it always feels like they are facing away from you at key moments. The two leads (Eddie Redmayne and Gayle Rankin as the Emcee and Sally Bowles, respectively) were fantastic. Bebe Neuwirth (Lilith from Cheers) was also in it as Fraulein Schneider. Everything was well done, the show is just a little depressing.

Saturday, our matinee was Merrily We Roll Along (1) by Stephen Sondheim, starring Daniel Ratcliffe, Jonathan Groff (both of whom won Tonys for their performances) and Lindsay Mendez. The story is about three friends (a composer, a lyricist, and a writer/critic) and is told in reverse chronologically (the play begins in 1976 and ends in 1957). The effect is sometimes heartbreaking as you have already seen the events that will take place in the future before you see the events that will lead to those future events. I loved it, from the music, to the story, to the acting, everything was sublime.

That led to our finale for this trip last night (after dinner at Joe Allen) and we saw Suffs (2), which covers the story of the efforts of courageous women to bring about the 19th amendment. I found the music and story to be uplifting and inspiring. The show stars Shaina Taub, who also wrote the book, music and lyrics. I was moved to tears multiple times and thoroughly enjoyed it.

This morning, my friend Elias came and picked us up, and took us to JFK to fly home. It was good to see him again. He told me about the deaths of his brother, his brother-in-law, and his mother-in-law in the past several months. He told me about his grandson’s football career and about having a bag with tens of thousands of dollars in cash and jewelry left in his cab, and how he returned it. Always great to see him.

Until next time, New York.

& Juliet

In the Ambassador Lounge, prior to Merrily...

Suffs

Obligatory Times Square pic

With Elias at the airport, prior to departing

Childhood Chaos

I am the oldest of seven children, the oldest six of whom are all boys. My younger siblings are, in order from oldest to youngest (approximately how may years younger they are than me in parentheses): Scott (2), Alan (4), Carl (6), Kevin (who now goes by Glen, 9), Brent (11), and McKell (15).

My childhood memories probably revolve more around my siblings from Carl up, so apologies in advance to my younger siblings. The four oldest siblings often joke about how the house we grew up in was very different from the house the three youngest siblings grew up in. Although in our case, it was physically the same house.

As can be imagined, ours was a house full of activity, or chaos, if you will. Some examples:

The Van

Not too long after we moved to Grantsville, my parents purchased a Super Wagon. I don't know that that was actually what it was called, but it was a super long van. My recollection is that it seated eight, but then still had room for a queen-sized mattress in the back. I don't know where the mattress came from, but my parents did put a mattress in the back, which was nice because we could lie down back there and sleep on longer trips. But just as often, I remember us wrestling back there while my dad was driving down the freeway.

Just a couple of days after purchasing this van, we went to see my Uncle Robert and his family in Kaysville (Robert is the third oldest of the ten children in my dad's family, my dad is the 5th oldest). Before we moved to Grantsville, we had lived in the same neighborhood as Uncle Robert so we were excited to visit them. My dad parked the van in the driveway and my mom and dad went inside to visit while my brothers and a couple of my cousins stayed outside to play in the new van. I guess we were excited about the new van, but it seems funny now that we were that excited about it that we were out there playing in it. All the doors open, climbing in and out, just having a great time, until at some point Alan climbed into the drivers seat and shifted the van into neutral. The car began to roll backwards down the driveway with five or six kids in and around it, continued rolling across the cul-de-sac, and smashed into the side a neighbor's recently-purchased sedan. By some miracle, none of the kids were hurt. Carl, who was the youngest, was allegedly in the back of the van and rolling toward the open rear doors when my cousin Stephen, who is my age, grabbed him and set him on the seat.

I don't know that I was too fazed by the whole experience at the time, but looking back, I sure feel bad for my parents. A smashed up new vehicle, smashing up my uncle's neighbor's new car.

But fast-forward a year or two. We are still driving the same van, which has since been repaired. We went up to eat at the Pizza Hut in Tooele and as the meal wound down, a few kids finished eating before the rest of the family and again went out to the van. This time, it was Carl who shifted into neutral, but the result was extremely similar. Fortunately, this time, rather than smashing into another vehicle, the van slammed into the wall of the Pizza Hut. The damage to the building was minimal, but the rear doors of the van were smashed up the same way they had been before.

I have to think that my family alone is why you now have to have the key in order to shift the vehicle out of park.

Babysitters

We had a number of babysitters when we were young. Some of the names I can think of...Lori and Teresa Proctor, Vicky Young, Karen Orgill, Monica Allen, Michelle Chaudoin, Seth and Celeste Parkinson, Ryan Chatwin (I'm using their names at the time, even if their names are now different). I'm sure we were exhausting, which is why we had so many different babysitters. Even if some agreed to eventually come back, they needed a good long break before they did.

At one point, we had a large German Shepherd named Raspberry (I think I named her. I don't know...I liked fruit). Raspberry was an outside dog, but I remember some of our babysitters were afraid of her, so of course, we'd bring her into the house and chase the babysitter back into our parents bedroom, where they'd lock themselves in.

On one occasion when Karen Orgill was babysitting us and we were all playing outside and one of the neighbor kids rode too close to Carl on their bike and ran over Carl's toe or something. Rather than crying, Carl started to hold his breath. I was across the street at the Proctors, but can still remember Karen carrying Carl across Eastmoor towards Proctors calling for help as Carl's face turned purple. Marge Proctor ran into the house to call an ambulance while Larry Proctor tried to get Carl to open his mouth and breathe. Finally, after several tense seconds, Carl let out a big breath and started to cry. He was fine, but I can imagine how scary that must have been for a young babysitter.

Another time, Ryan Chatwin was babysitting us, and we were all playing with some darts and a dart board we had down in our basement (looking back, I have no idea why we had a dartboard or where it came from). I neglected to follow proper safety protocol and threw a dart while Carl was between me and the dart board. It went right into Carl's hand, between his thumb and index finger (apparently besides not being safe, I was also a terrible aim (or was I?)). Ryan ended up calling his dad Al and I remember Al coming to the house and telling me that I needed to make sure everyone was behind me before throwing a dart. Sound advice.

On another occasion, Seth and Celeste Parkinson were combining forces to babysit us. I don't remember anything specific that we did, but it must not have been good, because at some point, Seth and Celeste called their dad Rich and he came down and got after us. I don't remember everything that was said, but I do remember something to the effect of that if we couldn't be good for nice babysitters, then our parents were going to have to get us mean babysitters.

Needless to say, we were a handful. I don't envy anyone who took on the challenge of babysitting the Mouritsen boys in the mid-80s.

Brother on Brother Violence

I was never much of a baseball player, but at one point, I did play teeball and was practicing hitting off a tee in our backyard. Carl was out there with me and was in the way of my swing, so possibly remembering Al's advice, I picked Carl up and put him behind me, figuring that way he would be out of harm's way. I then took a mighty swing. As I should have anticipated, the follow-through carried the bat behind me, where it connected with Carl's forehead, giving him a large goose egg.

When we first moved to Eastmoor, there were only four houses. We lived in the red-brick house on the corner. Proctors lived across the street in the white-brick house. Johansons lived next store to us to the south, and Tripps lived kitty-corner across the street. At some point, Bolinders began to build next to Tripps and the dirt hills resulting from the excavation were hard to resist and we'd frequently go over to the Bolinder's lot and play. At some point, there was a small trailer over there, and we' treat it almost like a see-saw because if you stood at one end, that end would tip toward the ground. One day we were over playing on the trailer and I was making it tip down, and then lost my balance and fell off, which caused it to tip back the other way, with the other end hitting Scott’s (I believe?) thumb and breaking it.

Before our basement was finished, Scott and Alan drew lines for a BYU basketball court on the cement floor and we'd play games down there, usually Carl and I against Scott and Alan. I was quite a bit bigger than my younger brothers at this point in our lives and I remember blocking a lot of shots. It seems like when we'd have late church, we'd spend Sunday mornings playing basketball down in the basement until it was time to get ready. I'm also quite certain these games ended in fights more often than not.

I'm sure there are many other stories that my parents and siblings could tell. And I'd guess these events aren't too atypical for large families. I'm not sure I always did at the time, but looking back, I loved growing up with my siblings and am grateful to be able to look back on these experiences.

Family portrait in pink to celebrate my little sister joining the family

Obligatory sibling pyramid (but seriously, look at those arms)

 

My Other Dad

Since my dad passed away, a little less than three years ago, Father's Day has been a bittersweet day. I of course think about him and his life and the father he was to me. I think about the advice that he gave and the example he set. I try not to be too sad and instead be grateful that for nearly 45 years of my life, I had a dad in my life who loved and cared about me and wanted the best for me.

I have written some about my dad and definitely have more to say about him, but one thing his unexpected death taught me was that I wished I had done a better job of expressing my love and appreciation for him while he was here so while I will certainly return to writing about my dad in future posts, today I would like to focus on my other dad.

(I hope my dad knows how I feel about him. Whenever my run takes me past the cemetery where he is buried, I will dip in and tell him hello and that I love him. But I guess either he's right about things, in which case he should already know the love and appreciation I have for him, or I'm right, in which case waiting a bit more time for me to write some more about him isn't going to hurt anything. I guess if I go before I get the chance to write all that I want to and he's right, then I can tell him in person (although I guess I'm not sure what the exact doctrine on that would be). I'm sure the first thing he'll say is "I told you.")

I am so grateful to have my wife and children and to be able to be with them. I'm grateful for my brothers and friends, who are wonderful examples of manhood and fatherhood. And I'm grateful for other men who have had a father-like influence in my life. Men like the dads of some of my closest friends, Jack Allred, Tom Tripp, Big Dave Fawson, and Earl Larsen. Men like Sunnie Titmus, for whom I worked for many years and who ordained me an Elder when my dad was unable to. And men like Kevin Butler and Mark Hutchins, who I played for for a few years (Just because I think the Grantsville family connections are interesting, Mark and Kevin are both related to Jeanell, through her Jefferies side. Mark is Jeanell's dad's first-cousin and Kevin is married to Mark's sister Jeri).

(Some of these parentheticals should probably be footnotes, but I looked into how to do them on this blogging platform and it seemed like too much work. I wanted to spend my time writing, not formatting footnotes. Anyway, as most maybe know, I am no longer an active or believing member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But for the majority of my life thus far, I was, and many of my life experiences are connected to the Church and I will write about them, mostly in a positive way. For example, while I no longer believe in the spiritual or eternal significance of being ordained an Elder, on a human level, it was still a meaningful experience in my life and I am grateful to Sunnie for performing that ordinance. This explanation is probably unnecessary, but I guess I wanted to express how I try to approach a life that includes a quite-religious past and a non-religious present. And I don't want people thinking that because I mentioned something from my religious past that it means I'm on the verge of going back to church).

But the man who has had the most influence on the man and father I am today, other than my own father, is Jeanell's dad, Dave Jefferies. (I usually try to avoid "in-law" terms, just like I'm not a fan of using "step" to describe my relationship to my older sons. For whatever reason, both seem to have a negative connotation that don't do justice to my feelings for and relationships with people for whom I could technically use those terms. I blame Disney, at least for the latter).

Like many people in my life, I don't remember specifically the first time I met Dave. When I dated Jeanell when we were in high school, I have only a couple of memories. The first is when I rode down with Jeanell's family to watch her brother Cam (who is two years older than Jeanell and I) play in the All-Star Football game sometime in the summer of 1993. Afterward we stopped at Training Table, and when the food was ready, Dave told me to come and help bring the trays back to our table, which made me feel included (we hadn't been dating too long at the time).

The other memory I have is being at Jeanell's house and Jeanell and I being out on their front lawn after dark. Her brother Cam was leaving to go somewhere and as he was leaving through the front door, Dave told him to leave the main door open (there was a screen door in front of the main door). Cam turned and quipped, "You want to keep an eye on Rich's hands?" and then laughed as he headed down the steps.

When Jeanell and I started dating again several years later, Dave was always welcoming and accepting of me. They had one of those old-school big screen TVs that weighted 1000 lbs and it had picture-in-picture. I don't remember exactly who was playing but I would guess maybe there was a BYU game and a Jazz game or something and I suggested that we get together and take advantage of the picture-in-picture to keep an eye on both games. Dave was always extremely busy between running the grocery store and his various church callings, not to mention being a dad and grandpa, and I don't know if he would have even watched those games ordinarily, but he accepted the invitation, cooked us some steaks, and we spent the evening together following both games.

Asking your girlfriend's dad for her hand in marriage can be a scary and intimidating experience, but with Dave that was not the case. He was very warm and welcoming and I remember him saying that I didn't need to ask, but that he appreciated it. Not too long ago, he mentioned to me again how I didn't need to do that, but how much he appreciated the gesture.

The first few months of Jeanell and my marriage, we lived with Dave and Carol and things didn't always go smoothly as Jeanell and I adjusted to married life. I was immediately a dad for the first time and Jeanell's previous marriage had ended less than a year prior and there were some rocky times. I didn't want to talk to my own parents about our problems and I appreciated being able to talk to and get advice from Dave. I distinctly remember asking him for a blessing at one time and being grateful for the counsel he gave through that blessing.

That first summer we were married, I worked for Broken Arrow at the Clive site in the desert west of Grantsville. I would catch a shuttle that stopped at Jay's (Jay was Jeanell's grandma's brother)  gas station early each morning (maybe 5:30?) to take the 45-minute ride out to Clive. The first morning I got up to go to work after we had returned from our honeymoon, Jeanell had prepared a lunch for me with sandwiches, chips, and drinks, and a love note. But that I recall, that never happened again (understandably as Jeanell was taking care of three young boys and working herself). But after that first day, it was Dave who took care of making sure I had a lunch to take out to Clive. He got up extremely early each morning to start the day at the store, and he would take me down there, let me grab some items to take for my lunch (that we wrote down to be paid for later since the store wasn't yet open. I never paid for the items) and then would run me to Jay's to catch the bus. He did that all through that summer we lived with them.

Dave has a gift for detecting people's needs and then taking action to do something to meet that need. With some of the money Jeanell and I got at our wedding, we bought me an olive-green suit, but I didn't have any socks to go with it, so every Sunday I would ask Dave to borrow some dark green socks that he had that went with the suit. Then one day he handed me a package of olive-green socks for myself. When my dad died and we were all busy preparing for the viewing and funeral, Dave came and got my dress shoes and shined them for me. When I thanked him for doing that, he said, "Such a small gesture of what I wish I could do to bring peace to you at this time. I love you." That simple gesture meant so much to me during what was a difficult time. More recently, Dave bought me a pair of Skechers slip-on shoes out of the blue because he knows that I don't like to have shoes that I have to tie or bend down to put on.

Dave has helped Jeanell and I move multiple times, but one time in particular stands out. We were moving from the Aggie Village in Logan to the Pinebrook Apartments in Ogden in the spring of 2001 and as people tend to do, we underestimated how much work it was going to be to pack everything up and move it. Some of my family had come up and helped earlier in the day, but they had left and as it got later and later, it was just Dave, Jeanell, and I making trip after trip to the moving truck. I think we ended up leaving Logan after midnight on a Sunday morning, getting to Ogden around 1 AM, and getting enough moved into the new apartment to call it a night about 2 AM. We begged Dave to just stay and sleep at our apartment, but he needed to get back. He probably got back to Grantsville at 3 AM and then had to get up at 5 AM to go and let the cleaner out of the store.

On one Jefferies family trip to Southern California, we had rented two 15-passenger vans to get around. Not sure why, given my track record, but for whatever reason on one of the days we were going to the beach and I was driving one van and Dave was driving the other. The beach was packed and we couldn't find a spot to park the vans so we let everyone out and just kept making a loop around and back through the parking lots at the beach, hoping at some point we'd find an open spot. We never did find a spot and ended up driving around for a couple of hours while everyone else enjoyed the beach, at which point they all piled back into the vans on one of our passes through, and we headed back to the hotel.

When Jeanell and I moved back to Grantsville in the fall of 2013, we moved in with her parents for a time, first while we saved up some money, and then while our new house was being built. During that time, Dave would frequently make dinner for us. On one occasion, we had ordered some Chinese food and Dave and I were going to pick it up. As we went out to get into the old Ford Expedition he always drove, I stepped in a pile of dog poop, without realizing it. We got in the car, and I definitely noticed the smell, but I thought it was maybe from Tisha (their cat) being taken somewhere. Dave was too polite to say anything about the smell so we rode all the way to Tooele without either of us mentioning it. It wasn't until we got to the restaurant and I got out of the car that I realized I had a substantial amount of dog poop on my shoes.

Speaking of Tisha, she died while we were living there at the ripe old age of 18. I don't remember what month it was, but it was winter and Dave and I went in the backyard and tried to dig a grave for her. I've done a fair share of manual labor in my time and played a fair amount of sports. I've even run a few marathons. But I don't remember doing anything that taxed me physically like trying to dig that grave. Dave had a pick and we'd take turns with it, trying to break up the frozen ground and get a hole big enough to bury Tisha in. We eventually did, but I'm pretty sure it was just deep enough, not an inch more.

I love the grandpa Dave is to my kids. He strives to have a personal relationship with each of them and is always willing to help them or support them in whatever they are doing. He loves nothing more than attending events to support his grandkids and is always willing to give a ride when the parents can't be everywhere. And those rides usually turn into trips to McDonald's.

Something I've come to appreciate over the now 10+ years that we've been back in Grantsville is how universally loved Dave is. He treats everyone with kindness, respect, empathy, patience, warmth, and without judgment. And because of that, everyone who knows Dave and has the privilege of interacting with him, loves him.

Dave has been such a blessing in my life. It has been a privilege to be able to observe how he lives his life and strive to follow his example of love and patience.

Happy Father's Day Dave. I love you.

Dave and Carol, along with my parents, singing "I Got You Babe" at our wedding.

Dave and Carol with my four boys

Jeanell and her dad

Dave and I enjoying Disneyland

Dave, Scott, and my mom supporting Lila at one of her performances

Good Friends and Unexpected Projects

Yesterday morning, I unexpectedly received a text from my good friend John Larsen. He was letting me know that he was coming to Grantsville to visit his dad and was wondering if I would be around. I replied that I would and we planned to meet up at some point.

John is another friend that I don't remember exactly when I met him, just that it was over forty years ago. We grew up in the same church ward, were in the same grade in school, from seventh grade through the end of high school we worked together for Sunnie Titmus on the sheep ranch, and we played football and basketball together throughout high school (John was the quarterback on the football team and the best basketball player in our class).

John's mom would cut my hair when I was growing up and since I usually went and got my hair cut with my many younger brothers, John and I would engage in some activity after my hair was cut while I waited for my brothers.

(When I got into high school, I'd have John cut my hair and then when he'd mess it up, Sherry (his mom), would fix it, free of charge. I'd found a loophole! She cut my hair right before I left on my mission and on this occasion, I did try to pay, but she let me know that missionary haircuts were free).

John's family lived on a farm of sorts out in Gundersen Acres (named for John's maternal grandparents). I remember Charlie, their old pony that we would ride at times, and the buck sheep that would charge you if you got in the pen with it (I learned this the hard way). They had their dog Blair (some kind of spaniel I think). They even named their cars (PeeWee is the one I can remember).

One activity I remember we did fairly regularly was wrestle. The problem was that John had done youth wrestling and knew how to wrestle. I did not. I remember he'd always do what I imagine is a fairly routine wrestling move and drive the crown of his head into my back. I was never ready for it. I don't know that I ever won a single time that we wrestled.

I didn't play tennis for too long, but everyone in Grantsville at least tried tennis. With the youth tennis program, we would go through a couple of weeks of lessons (taught by Johnny and his son Don Wayne Nelson at the time), and then play a brief schedule of one-set matches. I had the luck of having John as one of my opponents that first (maybe only) year I played (maybe third grade) and he smoked me. I did not handle it well. I refused to shake his hand, started crying, and took off across the field at the high school toward Quirk Street, exiting the school property through the Framptons' backyard. This was bad enough but was made worse by the fact that John's older sister Julie had given us both a ride to the match and so she felt somewhat responsible for my well-being. I do remember Julie finding me on Quirk Street and asking if I'd let her take me home, but I don't recollect whether I allowed her to or not. But I do remember that John never teased me or made fun of me about the whole incident.

I remember being out at the Larsens one night and John wanted to show me the trick where you throw a match into a jug and then put a boiled egg over the opening of the jug and the egg gets sucked into the jug. It was dark and Sherry wasn't sure she wanted us doing the trick and messing with matches, but Earl (John's dad) came to our rescue: "Sherry, I've seen them do it. And it is neat." We did the trick.

John was always incredibly patient with me. When we worked together, he was a faster/better worker on the ranch than I was, but he never said anything about it or complained. I don't ever even remember him acting annoyed at me in any way. In one high school basketball game, I don't remember if I had missed a shot or made a turnover, but I was frustrated, and as we ran back down the court, I felt the need to express that frustration. John (my teammate) was running in front of me, and I kicked his foot sideways, tripping him. He did look back at me, like "what the heck?!", but he just let it go.

John has always been a terrific athlete. While I was pretty good at football and had my moments in basketball, John excelled at both, and baseball as well. He could have had similar success with tennis and wrestling if they didn't conflict with other sports, or even volleyball, if it had been available at the time.

While John was the better overall athlete, I always thought I was faster than he was. At the end of basketball practice, we'd always do a running drill where we ran baseline to baseline and back twice. This was my drill and I routinely finished first when we did it. But I remember one practice near the end of our senior year, John beat me in that drill, and seemingly without too much effort. I don't know that I ever figured out what that meant. Did he have a good day? Did I have a bad day? Or had he just been letting me think I was the faster of us two all along?

Even now, I'll faithfully train to run a marathon and John will do sporadic or minimal training and get a similar time. The last race we ran together, I had been running a lot and John not so much. We ran most of the way together but when someone from behind tried to pass us toward the finish line, we both took off sprinting, and I couldn't keep up with John on the sprint. He beat me.

John always had a great sense of humor. On one occasion, John's sister Michelle was driving us to football practice and all three of us were in the front seat. We passed a cop and Michelle was worried she was going to be pulled over. John quipped "Yeah, I'm sure the cop is going to be like 'Wait a second...1984 Celebrity…that doesn't have a middle seatbelt!’” You know a joke was a good one when you remember it 30+ years later.

Another favorite memory I have is taking a road trip over spring break in 1999 to visit John's brother Mike and his wife Gina in Idaho. It was kind of spur of the moment as I recall. We decided that we would stop at every historical or scenic place on the way. I remember we stopped at a few places, but only remember specifically stopping at Willard Bay and taking a couple of photos with our shirts off. The only memory I have once we got there was going to work with Mike who was working on a huge potato farm and playing basketball in the giant machine shed at lunchtime. While I don't remember a lot of details I do remember it being a good time.

A cell phone? In 1999?

Willard Bay

Sun's out, guns out.

I guess the Idaho Youth Ranch qualified as a scenic stop.

This site must've been too far out of the way, so we just documented the sign.

Good ol' Fort Buenaventura

Not sure where this is. Can't read the sign. Anyone?

Doing something very sciency with potatoes

Good friends, then and now

John moved to Southern Utah many years ago and so we haven't seen each other as much as I would have liked. But we've still managed to get together here and there. We've run a few races, or done some training runs. Or met for lunch when I happened to be in St. George. Or gone to a high school football game.

Which brings us back to yesterday. Saturdays are always a busy day for me. I generally do a longer run, and then during the spring and summer, I'll mow and edge the grass and weed the flowerbeds. I try to go to the Stansbury grocery store with Jeanell and check the dairy. And I do the big weekly shopping trip. All of this was taking time and it was getting later in the day and I hadn't yet made it over to say hi to John. Finally, on my way to the store, I decided to stop and visit for a few minutes.

As I was doing my yard work, I found that one of the zones of my sprinkler system wasn't working. So when I was visiting with John, I asked him if he had any ideas what the problem might be and he told me that he had fixed many such problems. He was planning to visit his cousin who lives in my neighborhood so I asked John if he would stop by and just look at it and he said he'd be happy to.

This ended up turning into a much bigger ordeal. The valves for my system were a little different from what he typically worked with and of course, the valve that wasn't working was difficult to get to and so we had to dig out the sprinkler box. We took the valve apart and cleaned it out but then had an extremely difficult time getting it back together. And when we did, it still didn't work. Before we messed with it, it would at least turn on manually, but after taking it apart and putting it back together, it wasn't even turning on manually anymore. It was now after 11:00 PM, he never had made it over to see his cousin, and we were in a worse position than we had been before we started.

John had been planning to fly back to Southern Utah early this morning, but altered his schedule so he could come back and help me fix the problem. But he and his brother had swapped cars (his brother had been down in Southern Utah and Vegas while John was up here) and John had to get that car back to the his brother at the airport. In Wesley’s immortal words from The Princess Bride, this didn’t leave much time for dilly-dallying.

I was at Home Depot as soon as they opened this morning, but they didn't have a valve exactly like what I needed. But I bought a few things, called my neighbor Rob on my way home (at 7:30 on Sunday morning) to see if he by chance had a valve like the one I had, and then texted John when I returned home. He ran back over and things came together. Even though the valve wasn't exactly the same, we were able to use it and after swapping the top part of the newly purchased valve with the top of the faulty valve, everything started working again.

I feel terrible that I ruined his trip. I never should have even mentioned the sprinkler problem or asked him to quickly take a look at it. But grateful for life-long friends like John who are always there for you.

Playing basketball in John's backyard back in high school (John was dressed more appropriately for the activity. Note my watch).

Getting ready for Prom, April 1994

Graduation, May 1995

Who knows?

Running the St. George Marathon with John's son Kole October 2022

Watching John's son Drew's football game during the 2023 season

Running the Butch Cassidy 10K in Southern Utah Fall 2023

Uncle Scott

This past Monday (Memorial Day), Jeanell and I had the privilege of meeting Uncle Scott down at the Grantsville Cemetery and walking through it with him. Scott is in his element at the cemetery and it's difficult for me to imagine someone having a more comprehensive depth and breadth of knowledge of the families, individuals, and stories of Grantsville. He was of course able to guide us to Jeanell's numerous ancestors buried there (as an aside, Jeanell has forty-seven direct ancestors buried in Grantsville's cemetery, a number that to my knowledge is only beaten by our three oldest children, who add in a few more through their Orgill side before those family trees collide again, and the Millwards (John Ed and his siblings), who have an astounding 52 direct ancestors buried in Grantsville), but beyond that was the knowledge he would have of almost every person whose headstone we would walk past, who and how they were related to others and stories about their lives and families.

For the uninitiated, Uncle Scott is Jeanell's Uncle Scott Jefferies. He is Jeanell's dad (Dave)'s younger brother (Dave is six years older than Scott almost to the day, the same difference between myself and my younger brother Carl, who is married to Jeanell's sister). A little bit strangely, to me, at least, is that I cannot recall the first time I met Scott. He lived out of state for a significant portion of his adult life and consequently was not around when I first dated Jeanell in high school in the early 90s, nor was he around when we rekindled our romance and got married in 2000.

But somewhere along the way we met, and aided by our mutual interest in and passion for both family history and musical theatre, he has become a key part of my life and one of the people I most enjoy being around.

Uncle Scott is a supremely talented musician. His ability to play the piano is exquisite, but his musical ability extends far beyond that. Each Christmas, he composes a Christmas song that he sends out to family and friends. The last couple of Christmases, he has arranged a Christmas medley duet that he has played with my daughter Lila. As an eighteen-year-old kid, he became involved with the Grantsville Opera House Memorial Theatre and was the musical director for multiple productions. He has been a wonderful mentor and help to Lila, who shares his passion for music.

When it comes to musical theatre, Scott again has an exhaustive knowledge. While I might know of a couple of different musicals that a composer and lyricist did together, Scott will know about the actors who originated a particular role, what else those actors have done, and even stories about what happened with a particular production of a show. One example that comes to mind is Elaine Stritch, who I didn't really know of, but she sang "The Ladies Who Lunch" on the original cast recording of "Company," later did a one-woman show ("Elaine Stritch at Liberty"), and would ultimately play Alec Baldwin's mother on "30 Rock." All of this I learned from Scott and it's just one example of the depth of his knowledge.

Scott accompanied Jeanell, Lila, and I to New York a couple of years ago and one of the shows we saw was Sweeney Todd. But the night before we were to see it, we realized we had purchased the tickets for the wrong night, so we quickly purchased replacement tickets for the next night. But when we arrived at the the theater, we found that the replacement tickets we had purchased were very close to the stage and the stage was elevated to the extent you couldn't see all of the stage. Lila, Jeanell, and I were all frustrated by the fact that we couldn't see everything, but Scott loved the seats because they allowed him to see directly into the orchestra pit where he was able to watch the musical director conduct the whole show (while watching a show, he has a habit, that he has passed on to Lila, of moving one hand along with the conductor).

I am not from Grantsville (my family moved here in 1983), but I have always loved Grantsville and always wanted to live here. Especially since Jeanell and I moved back in 2013, I have become interested in Grantsville's history, not just of the town itself, but of the people, and in particular, how so many of the people that I know here have lived here for generations, and how they are all connected. Scott is an unbelievable source of knowledge about all that. Jeanell and I will frequently call him out of the blue and ask him about a person and he'll be able to tell us everything about them, their ancestry, their descendants, where they lived before, where they live now. It's truly remarkable.

Scott's sense of humor and generosity complete the package. Each Thanksgiving, he hosts us all for a wonderful dinner and will frequently invite us over for a game night (he has a 1987 edition of Trivial Pursuit that we've played a few times), or once, to sing together around the piano. He'll frequently go to shows with us or will come over for the Super Bowl or just to play games. I don't know that I could even identify any of my great-uncles, so I'm grateful for the relationship that he has with my kids.

Scott is truly one in a million and one of the best people I know. Grateful he has been and continues to be a part of my life.

 

 Don't mind the purse

Driving

I am not now, nor really ever have been, a good driver. I don't know that I'm an "you're afraid for your life the whole time I'm driving" bad driver, but more likely than not, if you are riding with me while I'm driving, I will do something that you will question. Both Jeanell and I are usually more comfortable if she is driving.

This has always been the case. My first experiences driving came on the sheep ranch where I worked from the time I was 12 until I left on my mission (and a little bit after I returned). That first summer I worked there (1989), we were feeding the sheep one day, and I guess they figured I wasn't going to be much help in the back of the truck throwing the hay so my boss (Sunnie Titmus) had me get behind the wheel, gave me a few instructions on driving stick, and had me drive the feed truck around. Driving did not come naturally to me. By the end of that day (or even that morning), a gate had been destroyed, and more tragically, a baby lamb had been run over. I don't remember which incident occurred first (I think it was the gate), but looking back, it's a little funny that there even was a second incident after the first incident (though I am grateful for the 2nd chance). I guess maybe even more comical is that after that inauspicious beginning, I was employed for another seven years.

A few years later, my buddy John Larsen (who had begun working on the ranch with me) and I were doing something with one of the big tractors, and near the back of the machine shed. Sunnie had specifically told us to be careful not to hit the back of the shed. Probably within the hour, I turned too sharply and caught the corner of the shed, damaging it pretty good. After that, I pretty much deferred operation of heavy equipment to John and I would focus on manual labor. (I should note that Sunnie was always very patient with me and I appreciate that. I don't remember him ever yelling at me and only one time where he was visibly angry, which I'll get into in a future post).

By the time Driver's Ed rolled around a few years later, I had been driving at least some on the ranch and should have been pretty comfortable, but I was not. Wayco Cowan, whose birthday is the day before mine, was my driving partner and I remember him going to school after one of our driving sessions, and telling people about our misadventures.

One instance I recall came early one morning and I was driving back to Grantsville from Tooele. A fairly large box appeared in the lane in front of me and I just ran over it, making no attempt to avoid it. After hitting the box, I looked over at Mr. Mohler sitting in the passenger seat, and laughed nervously. I think it was my nervous laugh that really cracked Wayco up.

Another time we were practicing freeway driving out west of Grantsville, and Mr. Mohler had me take the exit to get off the freeway. I hadn't really driven on the freeway before and didn't really slow down after taking the exit and was still going pretty fast toward the stop sign at the bottom of the exit when Mr. Mohler pushed the brake from his side. I remember Wayco telling people I was ready to just speed right through and get right back on the freeway.

I don't know how I passed the driving test. I remember being pretty frazzled and just ready to be done and consequently speeding on my way back to the school (losing more points). Mr. Mohler added up my points and said I got an 82 (I think you needed an 80 to pass). Pretty sure he just didn't want to have to drive with me anymore.

Fortunately, I haven't been in too many accidents through the years. I've just done dumb things that I was lucky didn't result in an accident. I pulled out in front of a bus, then realized it was pretty close, and tried to back up, but the car behind me had pulled behind me when I started to go so I couldn't back up. The bus swerved into the other lane around me. I mistakenly tried to turn left on a road with a big cement median so I was headed into oncoming traffic. The driver coming toward me stopped short of the start of the median so I could get over and into the right lane.

When we lived in Ogden, I was late leaving for work and left before the windshield had defrosted (we had a garage in Ogden, but our cars didn't fit in the garage, it was too short). I again, got going in the wrong lane, but somehow managed to get over into a parking lot and having suffered a pretty significant scare, wisely waited for the windshield to completely defrost.

I've slid off the road multiple times. Another time I recall in Ogden, I slid coming off the exit in a way that blocked the exit, which gave people no choice but to help get me unstuck and back on the road. I slid into the median on I-80 going back to Ogden from Grantsville one night. The slide resulted in a flat tire and by the time we got it changed we decided to just go back to Grantsville. We finally made it back to Dave and Carol's about one in the morning. I slid off of Rocket Road in Tremonton, but spun right into a driveway without hitting anything. After taking a deep breath I was able to continue on my way.

One year when we lived in Elwood, I traded in our Dodge Durango and bought a Chevy Impala. Jeanell hated that car. Fortunately for her, I slid off the road, down a steep embankment and through a fence not too long after purchasing the car. It was totaled and we were able to purchase an Infiniti G35, which we both liked, but not long afterward, I hit a cinderblock that was on I-80, which caused significant damage.

Another time when we lived in Elwood, I intended to turn onto the frontage road, but mistakenly turned onto the freeway EXIT. Fortunately, I realized my mistake and turned around before I encountered any other vehicles.

My luck with cars isn't limited to driving them. When we lived in Ogden, I was taking our Mustang through the car wash, but didn't feel I was centered correctly. I saw there was a bar, but I only saw it on one side so I thought I'd wait until the bar went to the other side of the car and then I'd open by door to see if I was lined up. I did just that, but it was then that I learned there were bars on both sides and the bar on the driver side hit the open door and bent it forward. Fortunately it stopped and I was able to get the door closed more or less and drove off. I'm pretty sure it put the car wash out of commission so the people in line behind me probably weren't too happy.

When in Elwood, I was trying the start the Oldsmobile Alero that Carl and Rachel had generously given us, but the key would not turn. I texted Carl and asked him if there was any trick to it, but Carl couldn't think that there was. Finally I opened the owner's manual, which had this helpful sentence. "If the key won't turn, you may be using the wrong key." I looked down at the key and realized I had been trying to start the Alero with the key to our other car.

Another time I tried to clean off my windshield by pulling down on the wiper handle but no fluid came out. I went and bought some wiper fluid and opened the hood to fill it only to find that it was already full. I got back in the car and realized I needed to pull back rather than down to activate the mist.

Finally, after we moved to Grantsville, before our home was built, I would go down to my parents' house to work. One day, I must have been in a hurry. At the end of the day, as I was getting ready to go home, I couldn't find my keys. I finally went out to see if I had left them in the car, only to find that the car was still running from when I had arrived, eight hours before.

I'm probably fortunate to still be alive and am grateful that I haven't been involved in more accidents, but yeah, driving is not really my thing.

(I don't have a lot of "car" pictures so these pictures were taken when we purchased two of our vehicles).

We bought this green Ford Expedition at Sherm's Store in Ogden in 2001. What an outfit!

 Our most recent vehicle purchase. Don't worry, I try not to drive it very often.

Devin

Devin was born just a few days before I graduated high school in 1995. While I'm sure I saw him a few times over the following years, I didn't meet him until four years later, in 1999, when I began dating his mom. My first distinct memory seeing him and being in the same place as him was a few months before that when he attended a performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat that I was in with his aunt and uncle on his dad's side. Within a year, I would become his bonus dad.

Devin has always been a performer (or at least he was in his younger years. These days, his performances are mainly limited to karaoke night). He performed "Side by Side" with my sister McKell at our wedding. He also performed not once, but twice in the Grantsville Sociable, once with his Grandma Jefferies as Louis singing I Whistle a Happy Tune and once with his Mouritsen family as Winthrop singing The Wells Fargo wagon. I believe he probably took part in another couple of programs in later years, but those are two that stand out.

I wasn't always great in my adjustment to being a dad. One of my early memories is Devin rubbing my arm or something and it bothering me and me telling him to knock it off. His response floored me and has stuck with me ever since, "But Richard (what he still called me at the time), sometimes that's what little sons do."

A few years later, I believe when we were living in Ogden, Devin asked me for some orange juice. I don't remember if it was late or what the reason was, but I didn't want him to have orange juice and told him no. So he appealed to his mom and Jeanell asked me to get him some orange juice. Annoyed at him for going over my head, I poured the orange juice, set the glass in front of him and said "Here's your f***in' orange juice." (I regret to say that I did not censor myself in that moment. Not my finest hour).

Another time, when Devin was a teenager, he grabbed a baked potato out of the fridge and started eating it like an apple. For reasons I still don't understand, this upset me, and I told him to put it on a plate and eat it like a normal person. I wasn't always the best dad.

One thing that Devin and I have always had in common is that we are both big eaters (we had a neighbor in Elwood who knew that Jeanell had been married to someone else, but thought Devin (the oldest) was mine, Tyler and Brayden (the next oldest) were with her other husband, and that Caleb (the youngest son) was mine. We're a little wild, but not that wild). When Devin was a kid, if he got full, he would get a plate of salad because he felt that made him hungry again.

Devin was always a great athlete. Especially when he was younger, he was bigger and faster than the other kids his age and he rarely missed a shot in basketball. I coached him as a first grader in Junior Jazz. We didn't keep score officially, but we won every game. One game, Devin had already made several baskets and there was a kid on our team who hadn't made a basket all year so I suggested to Devin that he help this kid get a basket. Devin went out and got rebound after rebound and then would pass to this kid to take a shot. It took several attempts but the kid finally made one and was so happy.

I coached Devin in basketball and soccer throughout the years and we had a lot of great times (made the championship game a couple of times in basketball, but could never finish it out). Devin also had success in baseball and football. When he got into high school, he focused more on tennis and golf and did well in both of those.

Within our family, we have the term "Devin jokes" for what I would describe as low-stakes deceptions that there would be no reason not to believe and that would have no impact if the lie were true. As an example:

Devin: Dad, it's cloudy outside.

Me: [Looks out the window to see there isn't a cloud in the sky.]

Devin: Gotcha.

Devin has always had a special relationship with his mom. He calls his mom several times a week and they talk at length. He always wants to get her input and approval. I love that they have the relationship that they do.

Devin has always been more spontaneous and more willing to take risks than I ever have been. I basically had two jobs before I graduated college. I worked for Sunnie Titmus on the ranch throughout middle and high school and then after my mission, I worked a couple of summers for Broken Arrow out at Clive. Devin was always trying something new, hoping it would be better for him. He of course worked at Soelberg's, but also at the Walmart DC. He delivered bread for Franz. He sold cars. He worked for Carter Jackson at a paint store. He was always willing to try something new where I typically liked to get comfortable somewhere and stay there.

One activity that we have shared multiple times over the years is moving. Devin of course helped us out when we were moving from Elwood down to Grantsville and I have helped him move multiple times. One move in particular stands out where he needed it to happen on a certain day and it wasn't a day that worked for many. I ended up taking the day off of work and just the two of us did most of it. The moves kind of blend together, but I believe that one he was moving into a fourth floor apartment. Lots of trips up and down those stairs.

Devin has been a terrific son. He has always accepted me and forgiven me for my shortcomings. He has always worked hard and done well in school. He graduated from the U in accounting and then earned his master's from SUU. He married his beautiful wife Kareena in 2020 and they are building a wonderful life together. I'm so proud of him and grateful to call him my son.