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My experiences of 1988:
I was there in that well loved, long remembered spot known as Nauvoo the beautiful. I wandered down the little lanes, looking and remembering. I followed the road that took me to that hallowed spot where my Great Grandfather, James Pace, joined the throng of desperate men striving to douse and extinguish the raging fires around their holy temple. The temple where he entered and was sealed there for time and all eternity - now a big rounded circle of mostly space holding its memories.
We moved along and I found myself a distance away staring into the muddy, murk waters of the Mississippi where the men, women, little children and babies loaded on the barges, arms holding few necessities, bags of anything to try to endure the unknown that lay ahead. The big old, majestic tree, off from the bank, held a weather beaten, wooden board with the carved on message, "goodbye, Nauvoo." How could they have looked back upon the homes, homes still holding belongings to never be seen again.
I held in my hand a record, a copy of a deed showing the exact spot where my great grandfather had his hog farm. My heart pounded as I started toward the very spot. And there it was. I stepped on the very ground, my feet standing where his feet stood. I looked northward, the big sky arched over me. Off to my side a little rolling hill, showing some green so close I could touch it. I stood, I waited -- oh, they are so close to us.
Time now has carried me to a little Utah town where my Great Grandfather was the founder. It was President Brigham Young who named the town. He said to my Great Grandfather, "Because you were the one who was sent here to settle this spot and because you and your wife have the first white child born here, we shall name this spot Pasen, representing Pace and son. And he spelled it PACEN - later spelled Payson.
With gratitude I walk into the museum there and look upon the large portrait of him with the inscription on the bottom reading, "JAMES PACE, FOUNDER OF PAYSON, UTAH."
Ever so many of you sitting here today could walk up and tell your story. Today I have told mine. But we bond together in gratefulness to them, for their faith, integrity, their love of God. Now it is up to us to carry on, to keep the faith and enrich the heritage they gave us. This is our mountain home so dear! Because of them, may we cherish it, and strive to put everything good into it.
Orvetta (Pace) Nickle Groom
March 14, 2001
Orvetta's thoughts: There are many rewarding joys of belonging to this organization of the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers. Knowing that we are the daughters of those courageous pioneers is one of them. We share the bonding together from the same background. And a thought that touches me so deeply is that we feel the nearness of them. And I have come to a realization that it really wasn't so long ago since they have departed from us.
I was there in that well loved, long remembered spot known as Nauvoo the beautiful. I wandered down the little lanes, looking and remembering. I followed the road that took me to that hallowed spot where my Great Grandfather, James Pace, joined the throng of desperate men striving to douse and extinguish the raging fires around their holy temple. The temple where he entered and was sealed there for time and all eternity - now a big rounded circle of mostly space holding its memories.
We moved along and I found myself a distance away staring into the muddy, murk waters of the Mississippi where the men, women, little children and babies loaded on the barges, arms holding few necessities, bags of anything to try to endure the unknown that lay ahead. The big old, majestic tree, off from the bank, held a weather beaten, wooden board with the carved on message, "goodbye, Nauvoo." How could they have looked back upon the homes, homes still holding belongings to never be seen again.
I held in my hand a record, a copy of a deed showing the exact spot where my great grandfather had his hog farm. My heart pounded as I started toward the very spot. And there it was. I stepped on the very ground, my feet standing where his feet stood. I looked northward, the big sky arched over me. Off to my side a little rolling hill, showing some green so close I could touch it. I stood, I waited -- oh, they are so close to us.
Time now has carried me to a little Utah town where my Great Grandfather was the founder. It was President Brigham Young who named the town. He said to my Great Grandfather, "Because you were the one who was sent here to settle this spot and because you and your wife have the first white child born here, we shall name this spot Pasen, representing Pace and son. And he spelled it PACEN - later spelled Payson.
With gratitude I walk into the museum there and look upon the large portrait of him with the inscription on the bottom reading, "JAMES PACE, FOUNDER OF PAYSON, UTAH."
Ever so many of you sitting here today could walk up and tell your story. Today I have told mine. But we bond together in gratefulness to them, for their faith, integrity, their love of God. Now it is up to us to carry on, to keep the faith and enrich the heritage they gave us. This is our mountain home so dear! Because of them, may we cherish it, and strive to put everything good into it.
Orvetta (Pace) Nickle Groom
March 14, 2001
Orvetta's thoughts: There are many rewarding joys of belonging to this organization of the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers. Knowing that we are the daughters of those courageous pioneers is one of them. We share the bonding together from the same background. And a thought that touches me so deeply is that we feel the nearness of them. And I have come to a realization that it really wasn't so long ago since they have departed from us.
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