The Wind

By Geneva Pace

Here I sit trying to think
And write a few lines at least
But the wind is louder than my thoughts
With fierce sounds that never cease.

So I just sit here alone looking out
Listening to it howl and watching it blow
The trees swayand the grease-woods dodge
Every little twig is bending to and fro.

The pretty white seagulls are baffled too -
Up with the wind they whirl then down they come
The sparrow's nest is empty, riddled and torn
And the Killdeer that sang so sweet, has gone.

The sun sets back in a milky sky -
Casting a gloom on the dust parade
The water dashes up like dirty snow
And there's a few trails the wind has made.

Mountains have disappeared far in the dust
And green fields look like the deseret sand
The loose gates bang and the windows shake
The cows in the corral are too nervous to stand.

So how can I think in a day like this
With the noise of wind and its haunting tune
I'll wait until the Killdeer sings again
And the air is filled with the Iris perfume.

Geneva's thoughts: One time when I was living on the farm, a terrible wind was blowing. I sat there looking out on the dreary day with my pencil and paper in my had to write something to help one of my daughters with a talk she was to give in Stake Mutual, but the wind was blowing most forcefully and I could not settel down to write as I became restless with the wind and wrote of it.

Mothers

I'm happy to be here.

Today I would like to share with you some of the thoughts that have been coming to me lately.

I was pondering - meditating - over my life and I asked myself this question, "Why do you think you are active in the church today? How did you grow to love the gospel?"

And I came up with this sure answer:

My mother, who loved the Lord herself and I watched her and listened to her, and began my first simple prayers to my Heavenly Father - believing. My mother would sit down and tell me, and my brothers and sisters, of some special spiritual experiences she would have and I could see the light and joy in her eyes as I listened and again believed. She took time to show me the first bloomed rose - letting me know this world is beautiful and God created it to be so - for us.

I would like you today, to think of your mother and the sweet memories you have.

All mothers, yes all mothers, leave their influence upon us. Our mothers instilled in each of us lessons in life, warmth and love. We may recall homemaking, teaching a special recipe we use of mother's - a special tradition. And I feel that we grow into these later years there is something that draws us even closer to our mother.

We came through the years in a period of family closeness, didn't we? We were blessed - we all sat around the table for our meals at the same time. On occasion if one should be missing, the empty chair filled us with a little emptiness. We studied around the same table, we knew of each others interests and feelings in a much more intimate way than ever today. We were blessed.

Life today toakes on a fast pace - a hurrying and scurrying where we cannot know our family members so well.

Tribute To Scott

Scott, it is my pleasure to reveal to you some of the little thoughts I have had about you, and also give some I have received from Paul, your mother, and others.

I've watched you from the time you were that little kid with those long, dangling arms, and those long, skinny string-bean legs pushing your hips higher and higher, every growing day they acted like they were trying to catch up with your chest.

You have, through your growing stages brought my idolized brother, Elwin, back to me. Your dad! you're so like him.

How proud he was of you. You were the only one in the family that he chose the name for. Oh, I don't know, maybe Grayce was so tired of choosing names by the time you came - but nonetheless your dad named you. And even though he saw only your early years of athletic ability, he saw your promise of what was to come and it came! Now he wasn't only proud of your talents there, but in many other ways. In mathematics you were unbelievable. While your classmates were toiling with the two times and three times tables you could roll the seven times tables off slick as a whistle. The football screen was your best teacher.

One day, little Scott asked his mother, even though she would be real, real old, would she go to all of his games and watch him like she did for big brother Paul? She answered she would try to hobble in on her cane. Now I knew she would make it without that cane but I have really been fearing she'd be on that cane before we could get him married.

I'm sure this New Year's Eve she was really throwing the confetti!!! Hallelujah!!! But Scott always knows what he wants, it just takes time. Now Paul said, you followed him everywhere he went - like Mary's little lamb - to the locker room, to the basketball court, where the balls and bats went, when he took his girl on a date, when he took his other girl on a date ...

And I wish I had a nickel for every time I used to drive down Main and see that tall giant at the basketball hoop on the school grounds and half the town's little boys collected there - worshiping your maneuvers - fighting to get the ball and return it to you. What an idol you've been and are. And how they longed for your return from your mission to pick up the sharing times and how they too, when the time came, followed your footsteps to the mission field!

Oh dear, Grayce asked me to make this humorous. But that was a sincere thought!

Oh yes, and Grayce has confided in me about the ringing phone. When a sweet, young voice would say, "Is Scott there?" Yes, he was there, on the couch with Lisa! And Grayce would say, after much hesitation, "I'm sorry, he's not available. No, I don't think he'll be free in two hours. No, I don't think so. No, I don't think it will be later on tonight. Yes, it will be late late." And night after night truthful Grayce would have to weigh her words and give the concealed message. To the sweet young voice, to the deeper mellow voice, to the aggressive voice. And she wondered if she should just cut it off by saying, "Look honey, maybe you'd better just forget that little ol' number 864-2291 because it looks like Scott is a - is a - goner, and..." And she'd be right he's gone. He's done gone and taken her to the temple for time and all eternity. Like everything else, he's done it right. It just takes time.

And Grayce has had so many added joys from his years, him being the last one at home. But we know it will be a continuation of many little added joys coming back into your home from him. But remember Grayce, "It just takes time!" And they won't be homely!

January 10, 1986
Tribute to Scott at his wedding breakfast

Dear Parents

Dear Parents,

I would like to express to you some of my deeper feelings that never seem to get said and yet so much a part of me.

I have always been so grateful for the many wonderful qualities you possess and is there a better time that Christmas when love and beauty flows from all mens hearts to let you know what flows from mine.

To you Dad - how proud I am of a handsome father. From my very beginning this has been so much a prideful part of me. Here you are seventy-six and one of the neatest dressed men ever. I appreciate the effort you take in looking special always.

And you know, Dad, to me one of the greatest qualities you possess is your genuine interest in others - your deep concern about your fellowman, your nation, your kinfolk - family.

It matters not who you chance to meet you show a great interest in them. No wonder you have the talent for a great conversationalist.

And always have i been aware of your systematic way of living. Would that all could develop this one trait - how much better the world would be.

I have always considered you a successful person financially. Realizing that from your boyhood you have struggled on your own to get your education and make your own way in life. These experiences have made you aware of the value of being practical. Your wisdom has taught me much as I walk my way in life!

To you Mother - if I should just reach out and grasp a few words which best describes you, I must first of all take unselfish. For always your concern has been for others. Along with this I must think of sweetness and warmth. Just to step inside your door and one can feel the smile of welcome. No one ever could compare to your warm hospitality.

So noticeable is your quick energy and great enthusiasm. This enthusiasm has kept your life so meaningful.

And so expressive of you is your sense of humor. It has always kept laughter ringing in our hearts! I shall always remember that Irish twinkle in your blue eyes.

How very proud I have been of your creativeness of thought and philosophies. You have given me a realization of something greater - beyond my earthly habitat. Through your eyes I have seen the beautiful!

There seems to be no way to end this for as my pen flows so does my heart.

So to you both my thanks for the heritage that is mine! May I so live to be worthy of it!

Your Daughter,
Orvetta

December 21, 1965
Delta, Utah

Response Letter:

Dearest Orvetta,

I can't think of beautiful words to express appreciation like you did to us, but I must say you are a gifted writer and it is wonderful to have a daughter who has inspiration flow through the channel of Holiness which I new came to you. It is a great blessing unto me to know our other daughters write poetry and can be close in communion with the Divine who stands ready to give assistance like you received. I was going to ask you to send a copy of each of your poems and writings you have been asked to give on different occasions, and now I have this other writing of your sentiments to us most beautifully expressed. You have other qualities, such as good business abilities and we enjoy and appreciate such a daughter. So I will treasure this Christmas message and hope to receive your other poems to add along with this, and thanks more than words can express.

Love always, From Mother and Dad

Geneva's thoughts: I have a copy of a little letter I wrote to Orvetta when she sent us the Christmas message in 1965 when we were living in Salt Lake at the Wilson Hotel. But I feel I shouldn't even keep a copy of what I wrote when it isn't anything beautiful at all but it does acknowledge her lovely appreciative statements.

Those Were The Good Old Days

When I was just a little girl I sat at Grandma's knee
And listened to her tell the tales of how it used to be
And now that I'm a grandma I find to my surprise
My little ones look up to me with wide and wondering eyes

For my days are as strange to them as Grandma's was of old
And they simply cannot comprehend the stories I have told
No kleenex then to blow our nose, no paper towel invention
And we used that big thick catalogue for what - I dare not mention

And when winter winds grew chilly we raced to the outhouse fast
For we bounced and jiggled in our home as long as we could last
We didn't go to doctors much, for when anyone got sick
We used old family remedies and we got better quick

A mustard plaster on our chest, vicks pushed up our nose
I'm telling you we went to bed a smelling like a rose
Mama put that big rock in the oven and there it stayed all day
Gathering heat for our little feet as we'd sleep the night away

And that big old number three tub across the kitchen floor
Put there every Saturday night for six or eight or more
The littlest always got it last and I was one of those
Freshly starched and hanging there, our Sunday homemade clothes

They heard of every Sunday morn when sacrament was passed
How everybody took a sip of that one big heavy glass
And baptism day was different then, we'd freeze and we would shiver
Not adorned in all white clothes and they dipped us in the river

Now "Shaves and Haircuts six bits" was a saying true
We traded an egg for a sucker, five cents bought an ice cream cone too
A bag of salt cost the very same as a ticket for the show
I remember this so very well - Mama wouldn't let me go

She said she needed our last ten cents for a bag of salt tomorrow
But I begged and pleaded desperately, I put her through such sorrow
"If I have to miss that show," I said, "I'll never be content"
At that she gave me her last dime and to that show I went

I sat there on the edge of my seat, my heart was beating fast
I watched the two bill and coo 'til she got kissed at last!
I couldn't wait for Christmas for I knew that there would be
A great big juicy orange tucked into the toe for me!

On Mondays when each wash day came I knew what we'd have for dinner
On that little old monkey stove, down the stairs, a pot of beans would simmer
She put drops of bluing in the last tub, cooked the starch 'til it was thick
Started melting Naptha soap, 'twas a smell I can't forget!

I pumped the old player piano, my tiny feet pressed on with glee
While Mama's voice, in the background, echoed sweet harmony
Yes, music rang out in our humble home, she whistled as she worked through the day
My sisters and I, cuddling three in a bed, would sing the night away

And the birds sang their rapturous good morning, waking us up so soon
The croaking frogs and the crickets - sang on by the light of the moon
Sunflowers dotted our clovered fields as far as the eye could see
The hollyhocks standing wherever they chose, sweet fragrance returns now to me

We were three times a day at the table, everyone gathered there
Be it hot mush or our bread and gravy, never a vacant chair
And now as I've gone down through memory lane telling about our ways
I just have to end my story with, "Those were the good old days"!!!

March 1999

Mother's Day Program

It's a pleasure for me to express appreciation to my mother this morning.

I feel that I owe much of my life's patterns to her.

From my earliest beginning, Mother showed me a life of beauty, and love, and a natural understanding of God who is the creator of all the beauty around us.

And how deeply rooted our early impressions are.

Yet through my maturing years I was never forced nor dominated by her belief. I am sure that I must have caused her many anxious moments through my faltering year. Yet my mother was always quiet, gentle. Her silence indicated her trust and faith she had in me. She gave me the opportunity to walk my own path and make my own decisions.

Given at a Mother's Day Program, 1970

When We Kinfolks Get Together

When we kinfolks get together there's excitement in the air
For there is a special feeling that we all together share.

We know that we are each a leaf upon the family tree
And as leaves have their resemblance, so alike are we.

As years have blended one by one, these family traits so strong
Have bound us close together. We feel that we belong.

There's a bit of wit and humor, the laughing Irish eyes
The artist's hand that captures God's beauty from the skies.

We're a people full of warmth and love for God and fellowman
Musicians and composers are spread throughout our clan.

The strains from Grandpa's violin has floated through each year
Until it's rhythm comes again through all his children here.

When a mother looks upon her child she feels no greater joy
Than seeing family traits appear in her little girl or boy.

May we be forever grateful, may we each do our part
To keep alive this heritage of music, culture, art.

Though there's no great wealth of earthly goods we're rich as we can be
I'm glad that I became a leaf upon this family tree.

Composed for the Joshua Holden Cook Family Reunion
August 5, 1967
Delta, UT

September Morning

Dear Dad,

I stopped by to see you this morning on my usual route as before
Your morning mail was in my hand and the few things from the store
I walked up your narrow driveway, peeked in on your green worn chair
For no matter what the time of day I've always found you there.
But your house is so dim and silent, your slippers set so still
The quietness folds around me and oh - the emptiness I feel
The mailbox holds your paper, your faithful car looks sad
My heart is heavy laden for you are missing, Dad!
I knew that this was coming, I've watched you slowly fade
'Though your spirit's fought to make it, I've been unsure, afraid
And oh, how long our hours have been from May to this September
But precious hours and cherished hours I always will remember
You see, I've had you all my life - a concerned and caring Dad
I've known your trials and sufferings and you have known mine, Dad
And the longer years we've had together, the harder to let go
But I acknowledge His great hand and God has willed this so
And a peaceful thought hangs over me that you have found release
Your suffering has taken wing and you know joy and peace
For God in all His wisdom is a kind and loving friend
So Dad, take care until that day when we shall meet again!

Orvetta's thoughts: I composed this for Dad after he passed away. I gave it at his funeral. I knelt and prayed for help to do this. These words flowed from my pen in a very short time. I thanked the Lord for this help.

Dad passed away September 25, 1974 (84 years of age). In May 1974 we learned he had cancer of the lung. Dad was very bright - alert - tried to suffer silently. Fought to the end.

Funeral & burial September 28th, 1974.

Reflections Of 1930-1940

I was there- I knew those years.

This was the span between two world wars - the lean years - depression years. I saw the needy, the poor, the unemployed.

The 1930's brought severe economic difficulties to most parts of the world. Panic was there. 5,504 banks closed within three years. I saw the people frantically drawing out their money, hiding it under the mattresses. President Franklin D. Roosevelt brought about the W.P.A. and other government assistance programs. The First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints recognized the government needed some relief from this burden and that the church must help to shoulder some of the burden. All bishops were notified, "Watch over your poor." They organized through Harold B. Lee the churchwide welfare program. President Clark stressed to the people, "Prepare a one year's food supply." Deseret Industries came into being.

It was bad times economically, and perhaps good times for compassion, humility, yes - gratefulness for welfare.

And where was the woman - what was her role? She was at home, in the home. Strengthening, stabilizing, making over, making do, and keeping order and beauty within her walls of her humble home.

My Mother

In thoughtful meditation and deep humility
I thank God for the mother that He has given me.

She took my hand in childhood, and lead me through each day
Showing me the beautiful as I went on my way.

I saw the morning roses, dew-dropped by early dawn
I touched their fragrant petals, and heard the thrushes song.

Each day she took me farther, revealing beauties here
And life gave its portrayal, unfolding year by year.

Forseeable and wise was she, you see, my mother knew
That if I found the beautiful, I would find God too.

For He is the creator of all the good I see,
And all I hear, or touch, or think, becomes a part of me.

But then she took her hand from mine, and bid me walk alone.
That I might seek and search and find life's purpose on my own.

For this if God's great plan for us and this she also knew
That I was placed upon this earth to choose what I would do.

That I could never truly see through someone else's eyes
The depth of God's great beauty, nor could I realize --

The pattern that God made for us to bring us joy sublime
Unless I searched with all my heart and made His pattern mine.

And so I faced a highway I hadn't walked before
Left alone, to choose, decide, what I was looking for.

The cross roads stretched before me, each urging me to come
I felt afraid and insecure. I didn't know which one.

And when my footsteps faltered, I fought for courage strong
That I might know just where to step. I reasoned right from wrong.

And then a spark within me, nurtured from my youth
Cried out for the beautiful and I found light and truth.

--I beheld the roses, exquisite, precious, rare!
Enhanced so much from early years! I felt God's presence there!

The music from the thrushes throat was like a symphony
That penetrated through my soul - then left tranquility!

I would that all the mothers were as wise and true as mine
She showed the way, then let me seek. I found God's plan-divine.

February 3, 1967

Orvetta's thoughts: So many grateful thoughts have grown in my heart through the years. Among these is a deep appreciation for a wise and noble mother. She gave me from my early beginning a life with love, beauty, and natural understanding of God. I can not remember back far enough when He was not an important part of my life. Mother's good example, sweet influence, and love for culture and beauty was so impressionable. How deeply rooted our early impressions are. Yet through my maturing years I was never forced or dominated by her beliefs. This gave me the opportunity to search and seek for myself, which is one of God's greatest gifts to man. Because of this my life has grown rich with meaning. I would like to express my gratitude to her in this poem.

Millie: 1926-2002

I feel honored to have been asked to take a few moments to express my love and feelings for Millie - and for Sherl and her family.

Millie came into our family over fifty years ago.

A gentle, quiet, kind-hearted person - compassionate and giving her service quietly and devotedly - helping her sister Jackie through the years.

Giving her service in our Care Center here, making a place in her home for our aged mother when mother was confined to a wheelchair. And many, many others she assisted and helped along the way that we wouldn't each be aware of, because Millie never looked for praise in any way. And with all of this may I insert that she was a devoted wife and mother. Her family was top priority.

Today, with all of our sorrow of losing her, we at the same time rejoice. We rejoice that she is freed of her affliction.

We rejoice as we read in the scriptures that as we pass on from this life we leave behind all the infirmities that bound us down and imprisoned us.

We rejoice as we read Alma 11:43, "The spirit and the body shall be reunited again in its perfect form, both limb and joint shall be restored to its proper frame."

She is free - renewed.

I think now of Shirl, his caring ways, how he kept her by his side, guiding her, helping her. I have been impressed and touched by this, and I'm sure the family too has been attentive.

Oh her good works in various organizations in the church - and particularly her good works in the temple - and caring and giving release to those she did this vicarious work for. In the Bible in 1 Corinthians 15:29, we know of the importance of doing this.

And can you imagine the joy that will fill her heart as she meets these people thanking her for their marvelous release for them?

As we read, "For behold, this life is the time for men to prepare to meet God." She was prepared. She shall be found faithful. How consoling to read in the scriptures, Ether 4:19, "And blessed is he that is found faithful unto my name at the last day, for he shall be lifted up to dwell in the kingdom prepared for him from the foundation of the world. And behold it is I that hath spoken it." We know - so grateful for this knowledge - it is not goodbye forever. It is "I'll be seeing you."

Shirl and family know that our hearts and our sorrows are with you at this time, and our prayers will be here with you.

Dear Beryl

Dear Beryl,

I wish I would have written this letter to you while you were still on earth. But, I couldn't. I could not have said the words that I can tell you now.

I was young then - not realizing, and somewhat uncaring for what lay before my eyes.

But now I think of you and little Jerry. He came into your arms a warm and tender body, needing cuddling and your reassuring love.

Now I remember the days you gradually began to wonder with little fears growing, nagging at your heart. He didn't say his "Da-Da." He didn't raise his dimpled hands and paddy-cake like sister Shari did. You waited - wanting it - so bad.

And I remember the day you took him to the doctor with inquiring eyes. And the doctor weighing the words out carefully that you did not want to hear.

Oh then - you drew him so much closer - you wept over him. You ached and you loved him the more.

Then stretched before you merged the days and nights together. You diapered, powdered, and spoon and spoon you gave the warming nourishment so needed. You packed his helpless body through the summer days, touched his nose with yellow daisies, covered his ears with soft-knit warmth and carried him through colored falls and winter chills.

Oh he knew Beryl, surely he knew and felt the comforts and protection always there - from you!

But what matters today - he's there beside you. And he knows- he knows!

October 15, 1989

That Old Stone Home

There it stands, alone and silent, that old, gray, stone home - dry and wind whipped. The once happy home, alive with family, little children running across the spacious grass, climbing on that big old lead dog and deer. There were the apple trees in the back, swaying with their bouncing colors or red and gold. The shade trees surrounding the big spacious yard.

Grandpa Joshua Holden Cook was a hard worker, small in stature, quick in his movements, could make anything grow. He was one with a throng of many who pulled up stakes in Wayne County and arrived in Delta in 1909 (so later named). A place now where miles and miles of barren land lay waiting for someone to tame and cultivate and spread into acres and acres of alfalfa seed. And so they put up their tents, rolled up their sleeves to make a town!

Grandpa Cook bought a one roomed house, put up a big tent where this old stone home now stands, and went to work. Soon the mansion began to be a dream come true. He loved his wife, the childhood sweetheart, the homemaker who filled the potato pit with potatoes, squash, and melons, who filled the attic with dried fruits from their orchard. He loved his thirteen children, seven not yet married as they arrived in Delta. He loved the gatherings around the old ice cream freezer where young and old took turns cranking and replenishing the ice. Little grandchildren, Betty and Fontella Sampson; Neva, Elwin, and Doyle Pace and many others enjoyed the eating. Doyle and his Jenkins cousins, LaVon and Ronda walked all the way there from Joe Mercer's corner to get a cookie from Grandma's cookie jar. And Robert H. Riding was born in that house. His mother, Ardella, was the youngest of the thirteen children.

Great Grandpa David Cook, nearly blind, lived out his remaining days there. His was the second body to be placed in the new Delta Cemetery. He died January 21, 1911.

Now today, all has left. The old lead dog retires up in Van's Dance Hall. Yet way back behind still stands three old cottonwood trees planted by Grandpa and Grandson Doyle Pace. And the old stone house is silent and hollow yet echoing the memories of by gone years.

Orvetta Nickle Groom, granddaughter of Joshua Holden Cook
May 4, 2000

Orvetta's thoughts: Home is located at 10th North & 5th West, Delta, UT.
Now owned by Willis Morrison of Delta

I Was There

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.