Uncle Larry Olsen Funeral

Tribute to Frank and Hilda Olsen

OUR REMEMBERANCES OF OUR PARENTS

FRANK LYDER AND HILDA OVEDA NASH OLSEN

Written by Their Children

Clair, Larry, Tamara, and Michael

May 2008

         Our mother wrote an interesting history about her and our father and ended the history in 1962.  Almost 40 years were unaccounted in their history from 1962 until the time of their passing.  We will try to capture some of the important happenings in their lives during this time period as well as events happening as we grew up in their home.

Memories Wriiten by Clair N. Olsen

         Dad was a workaholic or in better language, he loved doing what he did—working with metals, repairing things that were broken or worn out, actually fixing or repairing things that no one else could fix.  He became a legend among businessmen, farmers, and cattlemen who claimed, “When nobody else could fix it, Frank would figure out a way to repair it and make it work.”  Dad would always say, “If a thing is worth fixing, it was worth fixing it well.”

         Dad was not only an excellent craftsman in his chosen trade, but he had a strong dedication and commitment to his customers.  They knew that whatever it was they needed fixed or built, it would be done to perfection.  Dad always took the extra time and effort to make the finished product look as good as new before it left the shop.

         Farmers were always in a hurry to get their broken equipment fixed so they could get back in the fields to finish their harvesting.  It seemed as though they all broke down at the same time and each wanted their repair work done first.  This often created tension and sometimes arguments over who had the greatest priority.  Dad had a way of assessing the situation and then offering reasonable solutions as to how he could best accommodate everyone, realizing that he couldn’t do everyone’s project first.  First come was a general rule, but occasionally some urgencies had to take priority.  The decision was not based on friendship or best customer; but rather, what impact and consequences would be most devasting to the customer.  Of course other factors entered into the decision making, such as promised projects that were nearing completion; availability of supplies to do the job; late shipments of ordered materials, etc.

         For a one-man operation serving hundreds of farmers and cattlemen (local and distant), you can understand how dad had to be not only a blacksmith repairman, but also a mediator, psychologist, counselor, arbitrator, decision maker, and a compassionately honest businessman.

         My most rewarding and memorable years with my dad were those years I had working with him and learning the skills of a blacksmith.  This was the year before I left on my mission to Norway, and the few years after I had returned.  He taught me that “If a job is worth doing; it is worth doing right.”  I can’t brag that I ever achieved apprentice status, but many of the skills I learned have been very helpful throughout my life.

         Dad was not an outgoing expressive person, rather just the opposite.  I believe that his mind was always focused on his work and his obligation to satisfy his customers.  It isn’t that dad was unsociable or didn’t care about others outside of his work, but rather his personality traits reflected he was more a driver/analytic mind with a mixture of amiable and less espressive qualities.  Mother was an expressive/amiable-type personality, which obviously comes from the Nash genes from which she came.  This may have accounted for mom carrying the sociability side to family and friends’ visits personally or by phone.  It was difficult to have an extended conversation with dad, especially after covering “How are you getting along?” and “How’s work going?”

         I am convinced that I inherited this gene from dad.  Throughout my life I have found it somewhat difficult to be expressive, outgoing, or wanting to eangage in longer than a minute or so of conversation.  Another aspect of this gene is the outward showing and expressing of emotion.  Inwardly I feel emotion, but I find it difficult to outwardly express emotional feelings.  Case in point.  After being gone on my mission to Norwary for 30 months, upon my return to be greeted by my parents, I shook hands with them instead of hugging them and expressing my happiness to be home again.  Psychologists and sociolgists claim our behaviors are learned and can be changed.  I don’t doubt that this is true, but only if you want to change or even recognize the need to change.

         One-day trips to Weston would almost always find dad over in the shop and mother at home.  As I stopped at the shop, I would think to myself, here I am off work for a day, why doesn’t dad ever take a day off and go somewhere or do something fun.  I forgot for the moment that he was doing what he wanted to do and this was his fun.  Nevertheless, after work dad would go home and sit in his recliner in front of the TV.  Mother would make him a tuna fish sandwich with cheese and pickles along with a coke and bring it to him on a tray so he could watch the ball games on TV.  This was his secondary type of fun.  He loved to watch sports, especially baseball.

         Dad had a tan-colored 1975 Buick that was sideswiped by a tractor on the road from Fairview to Preston.  The folks were always trying to help us with potatoes, carrots, etc.  Dad knew someone in Whitney where we could get some row-end potatoes for free, so he asked me to drive him to Preston to pickup his repaired car; and then he would follow me down to Whitney to get the potatoes.  After picking up the car we headed for Whitney, with me in the lead.  When I got to the potatoe patch, I looked back to see where dad was.  I couldn’t see him, so I started driving back.  I found him stopped in front of a house standing outside the car.  As I got closer, I could see the man who lived in the house had backed his pickup out into the street just as dad was going by causing the whole right side of the car to be damaged, the side that had just been repaired.  So it was back to the repair shop for a second go around.

         In 1985, Camilla, dad’s sister, was killed in a car accident.  Her funeral was held in Arimo, Idaho.  Upon returning to Weston after the funeral, dad asked me to go with him to Preston to look at a car he had his eye on.  It was 1985 Pontiac Parisenne, a demonstrator with a few miles on it.  We took it for a drive and both felt it was a very nice car.  I can’t remember how much the car dealer offered him for the 1975 Buick, but the difference was just over $11,000.  They asked if he wanted to finance the balance.  Dad said he would pay cash for it.  So he reached in his pocket, pulling out a wad of money he had been saving and paid for the car.  As we left with the new car, I told dad that it was his new car and he should drive it home.  We started down Main Street going south and decided to pull into Bry’s hamburger place.  Dad started pulling into the oncoming lane as if it was a turning lane, which it wasn’t.  It was at that moment I remembered dad saying earlier that he thought he was going blind from all the welding he had done over the years.  I still wonder if he was going blind or if he had cataracts and didn’t know it.  Anyway, he made the drive home.  The time eventually comes when a man has to hand over the keys and depend on someone else to do the driving.  This time had come, and mother never drove, so the car was their means of having someone drive them to Preston or Logan for shopping.  Needless to say it remained a low-mileage car.

         Taking them shopping to  O.P. Skaggs in Preston for groceries was an eventful experience.  Dad was in charge of pushing the cart while mother picked up a few groceries for the week.  We always tried to get mother to buy several cans of tuna fish instead of just one.  That way she would have some on hand instead of having to go shopping again before the end of the week.  Mother didn’t like clutter.  I think she liked the weekend shopping spree because that became the highlight outing each week.  We gave the folks a case of tuna fish for Christmas one year, and mom would only take a couple of cans and made us take the rest home.  While shopping one weekend, Vriginia was helping dad drive the shopping cart.  Dad jokingly said, “The people in here will think that I have traded Hilda in for a newer model.”  Dad had a sense of humor that occasionally popped out.  As he started having trouble getting around, it was decided he needed a walker.  We had a hard time getting him to use it.  Once I asked him where his walker was, and he replied, “Why, do you want to borrow it?”  We were always cautioning him to be careful as he walked around the house or yard.  He would say, “Don’t worry, I have learned how to fall.”

         In dad’s later years, even after he had sold the shop, it was hard to keep him from going to his shop.  As mom put it, “sneaking out of the house and going over to that dang old shop.”  On one of our visits up home, dad was missing.  I went over to the shop and found him on a ladder up in the rafters trying to straighten the stove pipe on his coal burning stove.  Inquiring why he was foolish enough to climb up that ladder at his age, he replied, “I didn’t want to leave a crooked stovepipe for the buyer.”

         Mom was one of the best cooks in the country.  Some of her specialities were apple pie, fried chicken, and fruitcake.  For several years we were invited to Thanksgiving Dinner.  This was during the years our kids numbered six or seven.  Fixing all the food for this hungry bunch was more than a morning of cooking.  One Thanksgiving mom had the table all set and decorated, and dad was assigned the task of slicing the turkey.  He was doing a pretty good job until the turkey slipped off the cutting board and slid across the floor.  No problem.  Dad retrieved the turkey and continued slicing.  It was quite funny to everyone except mom.  Dad kind of smiled as if nothing had happened. 

One of the favorite things our kids loved to do was go to the Weston store and buy candy and treats.  Mom would tell them “just put it on my bill.”  Decoration Day 2008, we stopped at the store in Weston, and Susan, our oldest daughter, went in to buy a few soft drinks.  When she returned, she was laughing about telling the clerk to “Just put in on Grandma’s bill.”  The clerk knew all about “Grandma’s bill.”

Mom began having hearing loss in her later years and thus became a pretty good lip reader.  During visits she would do most of the talking to coverup the fact she couldn’t hear very well.  When they were living with Tamara and Bruce, I would call to hear how they were doing.  She couldn’t hear well enough to have a two-way conversation.  I found a hearing device that was like a stethoscope and sent it back to her hoping it would aid mom to hear conversations.  Bruce informed me later that she refused to use it, possibly a little pride involved.

The folks missed not only being home and being with many of their friends.  I thought it would be nice if they could see and hear from their friends, so I videotaped interviews with Oscar Campbell, Ruth Tingey, one of their home teachers, Laura Williams and her husband, and others.  I hope it helped ease their loneliness.

A new assisted living home was built in Preston.  Two of mom’s dear friends, Irene Neuenswander and Bertha Griffith were sharing a room in the facility.  We were thinking at the time that maybe it would be something mom would consider since her friends were living there.  I videotaped the facility and had her friends explain how much they enjoyed being there.  I sent the tape for mom to see, but apparently it didn’t impress her very much.

After the folks went to live with Tamara and Bruce in Kansas City, we thought it best that the house in Weston be put up for sale.  It was a worry leaving it unattened.  Laura Porter was diligently taking care of the lawn, watering and digging dandelions.  She was determined to keep the place looking good even though she herself was still recovering from a horrible car accident that killed her husband, Lyle.  We didn’t want to leave this burden on her knowing she would never give up taking care of the place as long as it belonged to the folks.  In retrospect, selling the house before the folks had both passed away was probably the biggest mistake we made in trying to deal with the circumstances.  I am sure this will be a haunting memory for the rest of our lives.  I understand now what a heartbreaker it was to mon, losing the only materialistic thing she truly valued in her life, her home for over seventy-five years.

Memories Written by Larry A. Olsen

Dad and mother always did their civic duty of voting at the elections.  Dad was eventually told that he could not vote again as he was not a United States citizen.  This situation came as a surprise to him, as he always considered himself a citizen since he lived In the United States most of his life.  But his birth in Norway made him a Norwegian citizen.  He must have been at least 40 years old when he had to study American History and the Constitution and pass a test to show his knowledge of the United States before he could become a citizen.  Our family was present when he was sworn in as a citizen of the United State at Pocatello, Idaho.

         One of the most interesting and funniest things that happened to our father was his saving up to purchase a new car.  He always paid cash for his cars and never charged anything on credit.  Dad always loved to drive a nice, new car.  Buicks seemed to be his favorite car.  In the blacksmith shop, his wallet was his cash register.  When his wallet would get quite full, he would take his money out of the wallet and hide it in the furnace room on top of the cold air vent going to the furnace.  He did this for quite some time until he thought he had accumulated enough to buy a car.  One day he went to the furnace room to get his money, but it wasn’t there.  All he could think about was that someone knew he was hiding the money and they stole it.

         A few weeks passed and when he was in the furnace room one day, he noticed bits of paper on the floor.  When he examined it further, he determined it was bits of currency chewed up.  When he looked on top of the air vent, he noticed that there was quite a bit of this currency in little bits.  He then decided that the mice had stolen his money and was making a nest for their babies.  He was heartsick, as he thought; there goes my new car.  He gathered the little pieces up and put them in a sack, and decided to take them to the bank to determine if anything could be done about his chewed up currency.  I guess the banker really had a laugh over this situation, but dad was able to redeem just about all the money the mice had chewed.   Dad learned a very valuable lesson that day, and that lesson was to put his money in the bank.

         While we are on the subject of money, dad was a very wealthy and frugal businessman.  Larry would take him to Logan to see his broker, Harold Dance.  We were advised by Mr. Dance to have a lawyer draw up a trust, as dad’s estate was getting so large that taxes would take most of his money when he passed away.  He was also advised to gift some of his money to his children so that his taxes wouldn’t be so high.  He didn’t want to do that, as he said, “They will not save it; they will just spend it.”  So we had a family trust drawn up to avoid the inheritance taxes.  The four of us children paid for the trust, as dad thought we were the ones that would profit from his estate.

         During his aging years, he did not have the income coming in from the blacksmith shop, so he thought he was a poor man.  We tried to tell him that he had plenty of money in his estate, but that would not register with him in his mind.  I thought it was sad that he thought he was almost penniless, and he had a fortune stashed away in mutual funds and annuities.  He could see his bank account dwindling, and he often would get after mother for spending so much.

        

         When we were going through his papers and the things in their home, we found money stashed away in various places.  There were many checks from his annuities that hadn’t been cashed.  So we literally found a goldmine in their home.

         During the last few years he worked in his blacksmith shop, he was relating prices to 20 or 30 years ago, and he was not charging the farmers and other customers the full price that he should have been charging them.  One customer that he made ornamental railings for told him, “Frank, you are not charging me enough for all the work you did on the railings.”  Work in his blacksmith shop was very rewarding for father.  He looked at his work as being fun and something that he enjoyed doing.  After turning 90, he still would go to the blacksmith shop.  Sometimes there wasn’t anything for him to do, but he would just enjoy being there.

         Our father would try to teach us boys his trade by doing menial jobs in the shop.  He was a perfectionist in everything he did.  He would often say, “If a job isn’t worth doing right; it isn’t worth doing at all.”  I was always afraid that I wouldn’t do it right to his satisfaction, although I was trusted to do some little tasks in the shop.  Dad always said I did a fine job in cleaning up the shop, but I wasn’t near the blacksmith as were my two brothers, Clair and Mike.  One thing that I admired about our father was that he didn’t try to push us into his profession.  He wanted us to develop our talents in whatever field we would choose.

         Our family had many good times together.  We would often go to a movie at Lewiston on Saturday evenings. Before we went to the movie, we would have a hamburger, fries, and a shake at Snowy’s in Lewiston. My parents loved the movies, and Lewiston had two different movies each week.  If a new movie looked entertaining, we often would see another movie on Monday evenings.  All movies during this period of time were G-rated and were filmed around good family entertainment.  We often loaded up the car with our friends and took them with us.  One of Mike’s friends was Bobby Palmer.  I remember going home from the movies and crossing a canal that the highway was raised to go over the canal.  We called it “Thrill Hill.”  Dad would usually speed up to go over it, and it would tickle our stomachs.  When we were approaching “Thrill Hill,”  Bobby said, “Frank will you go fast over “Frill Hill.”

         When I was about 10 or 12 years old, my parents wanted me to learn to play the piano.  They purchased a baby grand piano for me to take music lessons.  Although it was a baby grand piano, it nearly filled our living room.  After about three years, they traded it in for a smaller piano that I have in my own home today.  Michael tells the story that he tried to saw off one of the legs of the grand piano, so maybe that is why they decided to trade it in.  Whenever company would come to the house, mother always had me play the piano for them.  I would get embarrassed when I had to play, but I guess “my concert audience” encouraged me to keep taking lessons.

         While dad was teaching at Utah State University, he occasionally took me with him.  After he was through teaching, he would take me to the USU dairy to have an ice cream cone.  The ice cream was delicious, but the smell of that dairy would make me sick at my stomach.  I almost made him go in alone to get the ice cream, as I couldn’t take the smell of the dairy.

         My mother was a very fussy housekeeper, and she would assign different tasks for me to do.  She would brag me up as to what a fine job I would do.  So I would try all the harder to please her.  She often said that Larry could clean a house better than any girl.  Our home was always neat and tidy to bring guests into the home.

         We had a family trip to Yellowstone National Park when I was quite young, but I still remember how much fun it was to be with my family and see the sights.  Uncle Grant and Aunt Net went with us.  Tamara was just a baby, and she stayed with Estelle and Verl who were just newlyweds.  Michael hadn’t been born at this time.  Later on after my mission we made several trips to Denver to see my brother Clair who was in a TB Hospital.  I can remember Estelle went on one of these trips with us.

         We had our share of illnesses in our family.  Clair was taken back to Philadelphia to have a hernia operation, and Larry had typhoid fever when he was around 10 years old.  Tamara had double pneumonia when she was born and almost died of it, and Michael had a bad case of asthma and eczema when he was born.  Clair needed to have his tonsils taken out, and Dr. Cragun from Lewiston said, “And we might as well take Larry’s out while we are at it.”  Michael swallowed a quarter and was rushed to see Dr. Cragun.  Mother was in tears over it.  Dr. Cragun, told mother, “Hilda, don’t worry about it; you will get your quarter back.”

         Mother loved to go shopping at Logan on Saturdays.  She would have liked to have an early start, but father was always trying to finish a job in the blacksmith shop.  She would send one of us to the shop to hurry him up.  After sending us several times, she would get quite upset at him.  However, he used to beat her to the car, and say, “What kept you so long.”  Almost always she would only have an hour or so to shop. She loved to go to the Bluebird restaurant in Logan and have a minced ham sandwich and an iron port cherry drink.

         Mother was absolutely the best cook I have ever known.  Usually, her refrigerator was quite neat but hardly ever had any food in it.  She went to the grocery store for nearly every meal she would fix.  She liked to get her food fresh.  As far as a food supply for a year, it was never found in her home.  Our family enjoyed many good meals with them when we would come up from Cedar City to visit them.

         For several years all of our families would congregate at our parent’s home for Christmas.  Our children still remember the mound of Christmas presents that filled their whole living room.  The village of Weston had a Santa Claus that would visit the homes each Christmas Eve.  Our children loved to have Santa Claus visit and leave them a sack of candy.

         After I was married, Sharon and I took the folks back to Kansas City on several trips to see Tamara and her family. We always had a good time with them in their lovely home.  We enjoyed touring the Church sites in that area.  Our parents were good traveling companions, and we enjoyed the good times we had traveling together.

         After Sharon and I were married, our parents became good friends.  They were able to share their grandchildren together and “brag” on their achievements without anyone questioning what adorable grandchildren they had.  They made many trips to Cedar City together to see their grandchildren and us.  We always looked forward to their trips down to see us, and we had a good time showing them the sites of Southern Utah.

         During one summer in the 1960’s, Tamara and Larry decided to build an outdoor fireplace in the backyard.  Michael assisted us by taking his “hot rod” to help us get rock to build the fireplace.  We made several trips to get enough rock, and we had some daring rides without any brakes.  A stone planter box was also built around the large tree in he middle of the backyard. Mother was at Twin Falls visiting Aunt Ila, and we wanted to surprise her with the fireplace when she returned home.    We were very proud of our accomplishments, and for many years we enjoyed the cool Cache Valley summer evenings around the fireplace visiting and having a good time together while watching the fire in the fireplace.

         On March 4, 1977, we celebrated our parent’s Golden Wedding Anniversary at the Bluebird restaurant in Logan, Utah.  This was an especially happy occasion to give honor and appreciation to them.  The evening was very lovely with all of their family together once again.  Although mother and dad didn’t want us to celebrate their anniversary, I’m sure they were very pleased to have us honor them.  Those in attendance were Clair and Virginia, Larry and Sharon, Tamara and Bruce, Michael and Leigh, Weldon and Veleta Nash, Ila Olsen, Verl and Estelle Smith, Earl and Josie Lewis, Thelma Doney, Laura Atkinson, Parley and Essa Olsen, Camilla Evans, Heber and Blanche Olson, Joe and Gretta Nuffer, Bill and Deone Auger, Jack and Fawn King, Orville and Lourena Benson, and Ada Wright.

         On March 4, 1987, we honored our parents, Frank and Hilda, on their 60^th Wedding Anniversary at Hotel Utah (now the Joseph Smith Memorial Building).  We all had separate rooms at the Hotel Utah that evening—mom and dad, Clair and Virginia, Larry and Sharon, Bruce and Tamara, and Mike and Rebecca stayed at their home in Salt Lake.  Mother and dad were very surprised about the plans we made for them.  They knew something was in the wind, but not the Salt Lake trip.  For the past month, Tamara and Larry were collecting materials to assemble as a book of remembrance for them.  We had requested their living relatives and friends to write a tribute to them.  Each of their children also wrote a tribute.  Pictures of our families were gathered also for the book.  Tamara put the finishing touches on the book with her artistic drawings and lettering.  The cover of the book was done in peach material, lace, and ribbons.  The design and colors reflected what our mother would like.  When it was finished, it was a “masterpiece” and the best gift we could give them, as they spent countless hours reading the tributes to them.  Everyone we requested to send a tribute responded.  Even some people who were not directly asked to contribute heard about the project and sent cards and tributes to be included.

         Mike had made dinner arrangements to eat at the Jordan River Queen, a riverboat in the Jordan River.  After a lovely dinner, we went to the Salt Palace where we saw Walt Disney Ice Capades and walked back to the Hotel Utah when it was over.  The folks always loved Hotel Utah, as it was a favorite meeting place after LDS Conferences and shopping trips to Salt Lake.  It was fun just to sit in the massive lobby and listen to someone play the piano.

         Just a few weeks after the 60^th Wedding Anniversary celebration at Hotel Utah, the Church announced that the Hotel would be closed, and the Hotel would be remodeled into an office building for the Church.  We were happy that we had that last nostalgic stay at the Hotel Utah.

         Mother and dad never wanted any public receptions for their 50^th or their 60^th Wedding Anniversaries.  So we decided that we would have a surprise birthday party at the Weston Ward Chapel honoring them on the year that dad would turn 90 and mother would turn 85.  Since their birthdays were in the winter months, we decided to hold the celebration on August 18, 1989, and combine the party with a family reunion the following day, which was on a Saturday.

         Assignments were made to Tamara for the decorations and displays, to Michael for a family video of the family pictures to be played on a large screen during the reception, to Larry for the buffet, to Clair for the photography.  We planned a program for the reception where each family would prepare a little skit on some event of our parent’s lives.  Since mother was so involved with drama, we thought her family’s dramatic talent should honor her.

         Tamara put all her artistic talents to work in preparing the flowers, decorations, and displays for the foyer and the cultural hall.  The foyer was filled with mementos and pictures of our parent’s married life in Weston.  Tamara had some of dad’s artistic ornamental work on display with green plants placed around them to look like a patio.  She had the lantern and the little wrought iron bench he made for their own patio.  Beautiful floral arrangements were on the tables.  She had a cute little duck theme with pictures illustrating different phases of their lives.

        

Clair was busy taking pictures of the family in subgroups as well as a family pictures of the whole family.  The nice thing about the pictures was that all family members were present for the party.  Michael did a good job of preparing a videotape presentation of our ancestors to pictures of their grandchildren and great grandchildren.  This video is a priceless family history for all of us, since many of these pictures were not available to all of us.

The reception was in the Relief Society room.  We gave mother and dad two beautiful swivel rocking chairs for their front room.  We had them sitting in the chairs with beautiful plants and balloons as the décor.  They both looked so nice and were so gracious to their guests.

Michael was the MC for the program; he was well-suited for the part, as he kept the pace moving and was very entertaining with his stories and jokes about our parents.  Estelle Smith gave a tribute to mother and dad.  Jack King sang and sang and sang!!!  Please, not another song!  Larry played a piano solo, “Clair de Lune,” one of his parents’ favorite selections.  Then at the end of the program, Michael asked if anyone would like to pay a tribute to mother and dad.  Well, it about turned into a “testimony meeting.”  The cultural hall was filled, and many people couldn’t get in.  So they had to listen in the foyer, and many left for which we were sorry.

The next day the family met at the Franklin Pioneer Park for a family reunion.  After the lunch, Tamara had designed a Genealogy Treasure Hunt game to help the younger generation understand their pioneer heritage around Franklin.  The cousins were divided into teams and sent to different locations where they would find a note telling them about an ancestor and the significance of the particular site where they were.  Directions were given for the next site to encounter.  One of the places they were to go was to the Franklin Cemetery to find certain dates of their ancestors.  The sprinklers were watering the grass at the cemetery, but that didn’t dampen the race to find the dates on the headstones.  Other Franklin sites they visited were the old Nash farm in Nashville, the Cove farm, the Andrew B. Nash home, and the Isaac B. Nash home.  The cousins had a great time getting acquainted while on the Treasure Hunt.  Mother and dad were very pleased with the birthday celebration.

A year or so after the birthday celebration, dad’s health really went downhill.  He would often fall, and it was difficult for him to walk or take care of himself.  The burden became too great for mother and she was getting quite frail too.  As children of the family, we decided that they couldn’t remain alone in the home any longer.  The family decided to pay Tamara out of the estate money to take care of them.  She agreed and stayed with them in their home for about six months and then decided that it would be best if she took them to her home in Overland Park, Kansas.

Our parents detested the thought of being placed in a rest home, so we thought this would be the best plan for them to go to Tamara’s home.  They, of course, were very sad to leave their comfortable home, but they also could see that they needed assistance. As their home was vacant and valuation would be dropping on the property, the family decided in 1994 that the Weston home should be sold.  Mother and dad would not be able to return to their home and live by themselves.  Because of the upkeep and threat of vandalism, we decided that now was the time to let the home go.

Mother was heartsick to think that someone else would be living in her home.  Tamara thought it would be best if she weren’t there to see us dismantle the home, so mother stayed in Kansas City.  Dad was getting to the point with his mind where he didn’t understand what was going on.  He always wanted to go back home, so I guess the state of his mind was a blessing for him.

We tried to divide their household belongings as fairly as we could.  We didn’t want to have any hard feelings over who got what.  Mother did indicate that she wanted Larry to have the piano, Tamara her dishes, and Clair the car.  If there were a particular item that we all wanted, we would draw names for it.  As far as I know, none of us got our feelings hurt over the division of property.  Mother would have been heartsick if we had family feelings over their possessions.

Judy Austin was our realtor, but we told her that we would like a couple of weeks to see if we could sell the home on our own.  Michael thought that we could get a better price if we sold the home.  He envisioned getting $80,000 for the home.  We thought that a lovely home like mother and dads would sell quickly.  We had a few young couples go through the home, but they were looking for a more modern home.  It was better than six months before the home was sold.  The home was appraised at $59,000, but it was sold to a family in Hyrum for $55,000.  Mother said that she never wanted to see the home again.  Thank goodness she didn’t!  Our home would never again be the lovely home that our parents loved so much.  Oh how we wished that someone would have bought the home and loved it like they did and kept it in good repair. Whenever, we visit Weston, we can hardly bear to look at the mess the people who bought it have made. However, the home was resold in 2005, and the new occupants have taken much better care of the home.

Tamara and Bruce were very loving to our parents while they lived with them.  They had quite a heavy burden to carry by taking care of them.  Larry tried to go back to Kansas City each December to visit with his parents before Christmas.  During my visit in 1995, I found dad in a very weakened condition--more so than the previous year.  For the four days that I was there, his condition worsened.  He got so he couldn’t eat, as he would choke on his food.  We started feeding him liquids and Ensure.  He was so feeble that he could no longer stand on his feet.  I asked him each day if he was in pain, and he would tell me that he wasn’t. 

Before I left for home, I gave dad a priesthood blessing.  In the blessing we told the Lord if it was dad’s time to be released from his feeble body to make his passing easy for him and that we were ready as a family to have him leave this earth life.  I was only home three days when Tamara called me and told me that dad had passed away quite peacefully on December 11, 1995.

His funeral at the Weston Ward on December 16 was a full house.  The chapel was filled with just family members.  We believe, as we counted, that every family member was present for his funeral.  The cultural hall was filled with devoted friends of Weston and Cache Valley.  He was well loved by all who knew him.  The flowers were so beautiful, but the cold December weather would soon freeze them at this grave.  So we distributed as many as we could to the various chapels in the Franklin Stake for their Sunday meetings.  The funeral service was well planned, and everyone did so well on the program.  A copy of his funeral program will be placed in this history.  We thought Serge Benson’s talk was very well done and expressed the thoughts that we would like to have been spoken. The funeral service was taped, and Larry transcribed the tape to be placed in his history. The program cover of the village smithy was very fitting for his service.  The ornamental ironwork of the organ grills in the chapel was an appropriate tribute to him and his trade.  We will miss dad very much, but we know that we will be with him again.

It didn’t take too many more months before mother followed dad to the spirit world.  She really missed father after he passed away, and so it was a nice thing for her to have the Lord reunite them again.  Although her death was a shock to us, and we will miss her so very much; we are happy that she and dad can be together again in a better life without their frail, feeble bodies.  Mother will be able to hear again, which was such a problem for her during the last 10 years of her life.

The funeral service was very well attended for a person who had reached the age of 93, which speaks very well of the love the people had for her.  Mother always loved the little children; and the teenagers were always loved, as she would always make a fuss over them.  The newlyweds always found mother to be charming with them.  As we were growing up, we observed how kind and interested she was with the widows and the older people.  Nearly every funeral in Weston, she was asked to write a tribute and read it in the funeral.   No wonder why her own funeral was so well attended.

All of her granddaughters sang, “As I Have Loved You, Love One Another.”  It was touching to see all of those beautiful girls paying this tribute to the grandmother that they loved so much.  A granddaughter from each of our families also gave a tribute to their grandmother.  Mother’s request for many years was for Larry to play on the organ “Somewhere My Love” at her funeral.  Larry said that it was difficult for him to play this piece, as he would always think of his mother’s request.  He decided that he would play another selection and then include mother’s request after the selection, if he could maintain his composure.  According to Larry, it was a difficult piece for him to play.

It was a beautiful day on September 5, the day that we had the funeral and buried our mother.  We had a monument placed at the gravesite on the previous Memorial Day.  We chose black granite from India with white lettering for their monument.  Several people commented on what a beautiful monument it was.  One comment was made that it was black and was a fitting color for a blacksmith.

We all hope that we can live our lives worthy to be with them again and that they are busy preparing a place for us.  We truly were born of goodly parents that we loved so much and had the opportunity of having them with us for so many years.

     

MY MEMORIES OF MY FATHER

Written by Tamara O. Evans

 Our father was a unique individual. He was creative and inventive, soft spoken, and a quiet man with not much conversation.  My mother was extremely proud of my dad. She would tell us about dad’s inventions and ways they helped farmers. She praised his skills and accomplishments. He truly was an artisan. I think he would have been a great artist if he put his mind to it. You can see his work in the Weston Church house and our homes. The little pink bench and the vanity and chair he made for me when I was sixteen are just some of the examples. Each family has a wall sconce to remember him by. My mother loved him very much and taught us through her example to treat him with respect and love.

He was a spiritual man whose faith was very strong. He was respected by all who knew him. Our father served in the Bishopric for years and then became the Bishop of the Weston Ward. Dad and I would walk together before sacrament meeting (7 p.m. Sunday night) to the church. As we walked, we would hold hands and dad would squeeze my hand and I would squeeze his hand back. He would go to the bishop’s office to meet with people, and I would practice the organ music for sacrament. This is a wonderful memory of mine because dad didn’t show much affection.

Several times I would walk in their bedroom before they retired, and I would see my father kneeling in prayer. This was an experience that helped build my faith and testimony. My father was quiet and unassuming, but he was powerful in his message to his family by the way he lived his life.

I once asked my father who was in his 80’s why he didn’t retire and take it easy. I said to him, “Don’t you get tired of going over to work in your shop? You have worked six days a week from six in the morning to six at night.  And he replied, “I love going over to the shop; I love what I do, and I’ve never wanted to do anything else.” He quit work at 90 years of age. His last job was making ornamental iron railings for a family in Weston. My father probably could have been anything he wanted, but he chose to help his father in the blacksmith shop.

My father was very artistic, he would sit at his desk at home and sketch the railings and ornamental iron designs, and then he would go to the shop and create these beautiful works of art. He designed and built machines to bend the iron to those shapes he needed and then pounded them to perfection.

When I started doing artwork for the school and the church, my dad would be my critic. There was once that I remember him helping me with a sleigh and a horse. I had the paper laid out on the kitchen floor as it was very large. I was working on the horse’s legs and dad helped me draw the legs and hoofs of the horse. Every time I see a drawing of an animal, I think of the first lesson I received from my dad.

When we were young, dad painted on wood and cut out the nativity for Christmas scene. Also, he painted Santa on the chimney with a few of the reindeer. He was a very talented artist.

As I have done all my life, I’ve painted large scenes for church events. When dad would come back for Christmas, he helped me with a few of these projects. One particular event was a large grandfather clock for New Year’s Eve. My dad helped me with the face of the clock and some of the artwork. I enjoyed working with him. We made a good team.

Dad was a very good-looking man, and we all have stories of people commenting about him, especially the women. My Uncle Doc (Dr. Lerleen Hatch) asked someone once what they thought my father did for a living. They mentioned a doctor, lawyer, etc. Doc said he was a blacksmith and then he proceeded to show him his hands. “Is that the hands of a blacksmith,” asked Doc.  My father was meticulous of his hands and of his appearance—from clean fingernails to his manicured moustache. He loved fine clothes, shined shoes, and always dressed for the occasion. He looked like a movie star.

One day, while we were in Salt Lake City, we were riding up in an elevator in the church offices. He had his suit and hat in hand, looking very respectable and a lady asked him if he was one of the General Authorities.

Michael tells of a store clerk who was flirting with dad in a department store. We were just little kids at the time, and we didn’t like her flirting with our dad. My mom was off shopping and didn’t know anything about it.

I’m sure there were many times my dad had temptations thrown in his path, but he loved my mother, and she was his sweetheart. He always respected my mother and helped her with the house and gardens. He helped make our home beautiful. I love some of the things he made in their home. The railings, the little china hutch, the little room over the garage, the patio an swing, and the little pink bench that I have in my backyard. He made my mother’s life so wonderful as she did for him. They had a good relationship, and I cannot recall them fighting or arguing. I’m sure there were times when they would be upset, but they kept it between themselves. There was some frustration when mom would need to go to Logan to shop, and she would wait until dad would quit work on Saturday. She would send Michael over to tell dad to come, and dad would send back that he would be through in a half an hour. It would be an hour later, and she would send Mike over again. He would send back that he was coming, and then my mom would wait. They never got to Logan before 5 p.m. that I can remember. My mom had an hour to shop before the stores would close.

My father had one great passion in life—the automobile. He would buy a new car every two years--usually a Buick. I remember one car in particular. It was painted black, pink, and white--three colors. I probably remember it because I got to drive it. I loved to wash that car; and one day, I decided to scrub the fenders with cleanser to give it a deep clean like the white-wall tires. Dad came in one night after driving the car and asked me what I had used on the car when I washed it. His brand new car wasn’t shiny anymore. My dad could have yelled at me but all he said was, “You don’t clean the car paint with cleanser.” He could have been very upset over his brand new car, but he didn’t show anger towards me. I thought about that many times when my own children have done crazy things to help out with good intentions, and I try to remember my father and his quiet way of teaching me a lesson.

When mom and dad would visit us, dad always found plenty of work to do. He helped us out on many of our projects. Bruce recalls trying to help dad. Bruce was busy trying to hammer nails into a board, and I guess he wasn’t doing a very good job because dad took the hammer away from  Bruce and said, “You better stick to dentistry, Bruce.”

We had several parties for mom and dad. Their fifty-year anniversary party was held in the Bluebird Cafe in Logan, Utah, on March 4, 1977. We had dinner with friends and relatives and then a short program.

Their sixty-year anniversary was at Hotel Utah in 1987. We had fun staying there because it was the last few days as a hotel, as it was closed and remodeled into the Joseph Smith Memorial Church office building. We went to an ice-skating show and out to dinner to celebrate--just our family. This was the year I made the scrapbook for them.

In 1989, for dad’s 90^th birthday and mom’s 85^th, we went all out. We invited friends and family at the Weston Church House. We had wonderful decorations, slideshows and a program. We had our family pictures taken for posterity. A reunion was held the next day at the Franklin Park.

 In February of 1993, my mother broke her hip. We were very concerned about them because she had been taking care of dad who was very feeble and sometimes-showed signs of dementia. I came back to take care of them for several months. Mom was in the hospital for a month, and dad and I would visit her everyday. I could tell he was very weak because I would take his arm so he wouldn’t fall when he walked.

Mom and dad had many visitors while I was there helping out. Sometimes, I couldn’t get the lunch or dinner for them because of the visitors; they would stay for hours. Their neighbor, Laura Porter, was over early in the morning to check on us and bring us the mail. She would pop in different times of the day, especially if she wanted to visit with some of the guests.

Every night, she would come over after dinner, and we would sit and reminisce about the good old days of Weston and all the fine folks who had lived there. We would go through a whole family history, and they wouldn’t stop until they had discussed everyone in that family. You can be sure that if they couldn’t think of their name, it would come to them in the morning. I enjoyed listening to them go down memory lane, especially when we would sit outside on the patio under the beautiful starlit night.

When it became obvious that they could no longer care for themselves, we had to make a big decision. It was decided that Bruce and I would take them with us to Kansas City. We fixed our house with railings on the stairs and in the bathroom and put twin beds in our extra room downstairs. We put in a TV and bought a recliner for dad to sit in so they would feel cozy in their room.

When they first came here, we would take them on short trips and outings. They enjoyed going with us to many of the sites and towns around the area. We took them to Weston, Missouri, on one of the trips, thinking it would cheer them up to see the town of Weston, a frontier town that has become a tourist town right on the banks of the Missouri River. We had fun taking our little excursions, and we would always stop at a fast food for lunch. They enjoyed getting out on these car rides, but dad was getting too feeble and had dementia. Mom couldn’t rest at night, so we moved her upstairs to a bedroom of heir own. We put gates up at night so dad wouldn’t fall down in the middle of the night.

Dad loved to watch television and would watch ball games with Bruce. He would tell Bruce stories of when he played ball as a young man, and he was the pitcher on the Weston ball team. He said he played against Harold B. Lee and Ezra T. Benson in Benson, Utah. Dad was an excellent ball player and won many championship games. He loved sports.

Other things he would watch was a good old Western with all his favorite characters. He would watch cartoons with our three-year-old grandson, Brandon.

Towards the end of his life, dad would get mix-up in his mind. I recall one morning getting up and finding dad putting on his suit and white shirt and telling me he needed his shoes shined because he had been called to be the Stake President, and he had to get to church early that morning.

One night, mother woke us up very upset. She said she couldn’t calm dad down and to come and see what we could do. He thought he was in his blacksmith shop and that he was waiting for Serge Benson to come and pay him some money he owed him. He wanted to open our front door to see if he was coming. I opened the door for him and showed him the freeway and the cars going by, but he couldn’t’ see this in his mind. We set him down on the sofa and explained that he was in KC and living with us. He kept insisting that he was in Weston in his shop. He said, “You will sure be surprised in the morning when you find out how wrong you are. We finally got him calmed and put him back to bed.

Many times, he would say he was waiting for Clair to come and take him home. He did miss Weston, but we tried to make him as comfortable as we could. Towards the end, mother would feed dad and then she would sit with him. She would get upset with him because he had a hard time swallowing his food. So you had to have lots of patience. She would scold him and become frustrated feeding him. One night when she went to her room to retire, Bruce was helping him get ready for bed. My dad asked Bruce, “Bruce, what would you think if I divorced Hilda?” Bruce had to turn his head so dad wouldn’t see him laugh.

When I hear how verbally abusive and hard to care for some older people become, I think how sweet and patient and kind our parents were when they were living here with us. It was a wonderful opportunity to bond with my parents when they need you. We learned many stories and interesting things about mom and dad that we would never have known about them. Did you know that when dad was a little boy, he lit a firecracker under his mother’s table and he nearly blew his hand off? Grandma Olsen, his mother, wrapped up the bleeding hand and nursed him through the night. He never did go to the doctor. His mom did something to help him save his hand.

Mother told how she would work so hard carrying water up a hill to Aunt Net’s house to water her flowers everyday to keep them alive. She had a hard life growing up without her mother, and her father remarrying and talking Uncle Weldon to live with the new family and not my mother. I think about some of her life as a child and see how it has shaped her life. Did you know that mother drove a wagon over a cliff with the horses running wild?

I remember seeing my mother kiss my dad every night before they went to bed, and then she would pat him on the shoulder and say, “I’ll see you in the morning, Frank.”

Dad was the judge of a beauty pageant. Chris, Stephanie, Bonnie, and friend, were wearing our mom’s beautiful prom and fancy dresses. Stephanie was the youngest. Grandpa always had an eye for a blond. The others were making fun of Stephanie because she was the youngest sister and none of the dresses fit right. Dad gave her the crown--She won the Beauty Pageant.

MY MEMORIES OF MY MOTHER

Written by Tamara O. Evans

When we were growing up, mom decided my younger brother Michael needed to work and earn some money. I think she was trying to keep him out of mischief. So we undertook the planting of green beans. Mike strung the beans up on poles so they could grow up the poles. He was in charge of watering the beans and helping to pick the beans. There were rows and rows of beans growing, and they needed to be picked once a week. You would just get them picked and then start over again. My mother and I were left to pick these beans while Mike escaped. She would try to find him everywhere so he could help us out. She would call and call and call and no Mike. She was very frustrated with him, but she never found him. To this day, I don’t know where he went to get out of picking beans.

My first recollection of my mother was when I was four years old sitting on the floor by a rocking hair and watching my mother rock her new baby, Michael. He was sick so she rocked him a lot. I think that was my first memory of my mom, and I remember thinking that I wished my mom would rock me and not my little brother—jealous sibling I guess.

My mother has taught me many lessons by the way that she lived her life--the way she took care of my father--her ability to make a lovely home for her family--the way she cared for her home and family. She gave us the freedom to be carefree children who could learn through playing--something she never could do as a child. She had a loving heart and was kind to everyone. She never put herself above anyone else. She was so unselfish in her manner, always putting you before herself. Everyone felt so comfortable in her home because of her manner.

Our neighbors, the Palmers lived next door in Grandpa Olsen’s house, and I would visit their daughter, Judy. Often, I would observe that Mr. Palmer would kiss his wife when he would leave her. So I remember asking mom why they never kissed each other. I said, “Don’t you love each other?” When I think of this story, I have to giggle because the next Sunday afternoon; they brought me into the living room, they both sat down on the couch and kissed each other. That was convincing to an eight- year-old that your mom and dad loved each other.

My mother seldom would drive a car unless she had no other choice. When I was young, she would drive me to my piano and dance lesson in Lewiston, Utah. I knew she wasn’t very sure of her driving skills when she would slow down and pull off the road when a car was coming towards her. She would park somewhere away from cars, and we would walk to our destination. My father would drive us to Logan or Franklin when she needed to go.

She managed to shop when dad went to Conference, and mom went with him to Salt Lake. She would always bring back a new dress for me. She liked to dress her only girl in beautiful dresses. I remember when she would buy these wonderful petticoats with lace during the fifties. We would wear two or three petticoats at a time. It was a shame to starch them because after awhile they would start to tear. My mom helped me starch them, and then we would hang them on the clothesline to dry. When I went to school with the starched petticoats under my dress, the skirt would be standing out full. By the time we came home on the bus ride, the petticoats were flat again. My mom probably hated starching those beautiful petticoats, but she did it for me to be with my friends. When I went to college, I had probably ten fancy dresses to wear to dances--more than any of my roommates. More than what I could possibly wear to the dances.

Mother was a very talented writer. She wrote tributes to people, honoring them with her words. She wrote skits and roadshows for her ward. She directed many plays over her lifetime. She was ward drama director for fifty years. She taught Relief Society literature lessons, also. One of her favorite plays was “Little Women” She directed it a couple of times. She would inspire many a youth in Weston. They loved being in her plays, and they loved her.

Many of you don’t know that mother was an elementary school teacher and taught school in Weston when she met dad. She was for many years a substitute teacher, and I remember her coming to my class several times. It was strange having your mother for a teacher. She was very dramatic when she gave her tributes and readings. When you are young and your mother starts reading in a different voice than you are used to hearing, you become embarrassed sitting in the audience with your friends. It’s silly how the young perceive things. She gave many dramatic readings on special holidays. One of her favorites was “I, Mother of Jesus.” She also read her tributes at people’s funerals. I remember how she worried about giving her tribute to Aunt Veleta’s funeral, but her brother, Uncle Weldon, wanted to have her write about his beloved wife. I attended the funeral and was so impressed and proud of my mother’s tribute. I guess age helped to see how beautiful my mother’s talent was. I wish we had some of the beautiful things that she wrote, but she always gave her copies to the families and she never saved her art.

Mother hated to have her picture taken. She always said she was not fixed up and her hair was “flighty.” Dad fell in love with my mother’s beautiful blond hair. It became very thin and hard to fix or arrange and stay in the style of the day. So we have very few pictures of her.

She loved her little home and always kept it neat and clean. Everyone was welcome in her home. They were always having friends drop by and visit. They would talk about the old times or just the gossip of the day. My mother was very entertaining and a great storyteller. I loved listening to her tell stories and visit with her friends. I would sit on the floor and listen for hours. She was a caring listener and always made you feel like you were a very special person. She had very natural communication skills that most people would love to acquire.

Mother could make the best pickles in the world. They were prize-worthy. Every year she would make mustard pickles and sweet chunks. She bottled them and then they had to cure-sit for months. Then she would give them all away. If she had entered them in the county fair, she would have won a blue ribbon.

Around the summer of 1959-60, my mom was having a few emotional problems. It was all hush, hush with dad and her, but dad drove her up to Aunt Ila’s in Twin Falls. Larry and I decided to build a fireplace out of rocks to surprise her. We used Michael’s old hot rod (old 49 Ford convertible) painted bright blue with red and yellow flames that I had painted on the car. Larry and I would run it up to the old rock quarry and get rocks. Sometimes we would be in reverse all the way back because we couldn’t get it to go forward.  We worked on that fireplace for days. Dad got on board and hired a man to deliver cement for the patio so we helped him dig out the grass and dirt for a patio. We had enough rocks left over, so we made a rock planter around the old tree and by the back porch. We just kept putting rocks around all the flowerbeds. We wanted mom to come home to a beautiful backyard. We planted flowers in all the flower beds--geraniums and petunias were her favorites. She was so surprised when she came home. I hoped it helped her problem. Later on I figured out that she was going through the change. They were a very proud and private couple.

Since I was the only daughter, my mother went all out for my wedding reception. She did it all with the help of my Aunt Ila and my great aunts, but mostly it was my mom. We had a beautiful reception from lanterns outside to an organ in the reception area. She had a three-tier cake, maybe four. It was such a fragile fairy-like cake. In those days, you had a trousseau showing all you had to bring to the marriage to start up a household from quilts and towels to dishes and lingerie. It was artfully displayed in the RS room. It is too bad we didn’t have pictures because it was my mom’s shining moment. It was so beautiful, and all Bruce and I did was show up and get married. There were about 600 guests.

We spent many happy times at Christmas with them. One Christmas, when the kids were small, we put them to bed early an told them they needed to go to sleep before Santa Claus would come. Unbeknowns to us, my dad dressed up in a red smoking jacket and a red stocking hat and peeked into see if the girls were asleep. He said, “Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas! Have you been good little girls?” It scared Chris and Stephanie because they thought he was Santa Claus. We rushed up the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. We all started laughing at the joke he played on them. That is one of the girl’s favorite memories of their grandpa.

The Weston grocery store was a classic memory because all the grandchildren shared it. They could go over to the Weston market and get candy and not pay for it. Just put in on grandma’s bill. They all loved visiting grandma and grandpa.  There was the Red Baron, a derrick that dad had made that they could swing on at grandpa’s shop--the old thrashing machine became a pirate ship--the rock fireplace with the roaring fire and roasting marshmallows--the old yellow brick two-story building on the corner that was vacant to explore like a haunted house.

Mom and dad visited us many times in Kansas City. We had such a good time when they came. My mom would never ride on the airplane. When they got older, they started to ride the train; but the service from Denver to KC was cut off, so they started to ride the bus. The trip had to be hard on them all the way for two days, but mom always made it seem like it was an adventure. She would tell us about the people she met and talked with and the stops they made along the way. No complaints, everything was a wonderful travel experience for mom and dad.

They always came out when we had a baby, and they would stay for a while. Dad kept busy fixing things for us. He helped build a room for the girls and doll furniture for the girls. He planted a tree that was just a stick in the ground. It grew to full height. Mom helped with the kids and made delicious meals. She loved taking care of the new baby. Our children got to know their grandparents and loved having them visit.

When they came out here to live with us, we flew on the airplane. It was mother’s first airplane ride. She commented, “I don’t know why we haven’t flown on an airplane before this; they treated us so well. It was wonderful.”

Stephanie lived just a few miles away from us so she came over everyday with Brandon and Hunter. We tended Cody everyday also. She we had three little boys to entertain them. She told them her favorite children’s story, Little Black Sambo.

Mother always asked Bruce to go to the bank and get crisp, clean new bills for her  birthday money. She didn’t want to give anyone a crumpled old, wrinkled up bill in their birthday card. She used her social security check to pay for her birthday money. Bruce marveled that she could remember all her children and grandchildren’s birthdays.

I think she enjoyed being with us. She would tell stories and write letters and she seemed very content with her life.

Bruce felt like he was next to God in mother’s eyes. He said he could do no wrong. But that’s the way she made us all feel. She was kind to us all and generous with her praise. She loved all her children and spoke well of them all. It was such a shame that she lost so much of her hearing towards the end. It was hard to visit with her because she couldn’t hear well. She missed dad and I know she became very lonely without him. Someone made the comment to me that my dad missed her so much that he came for her one night. I like to think that they are together again and that mom and dad are enjoying their life together with their families. Sometimes I feel like they come and visit us and see how we are doing--just to check up on us once in awhile.

Memories Written by Michael F. Olsen

There are so many good things to remember about dad and mom. I doubt if I can recall all of the best moments but I will give it my best try.  I will start with my infant years.

Thinking back to my earliest recollection of mom and dad, I guess my first memory is Christmas time in Weston. What a glorious time! Each of us kids felt like we were on top of the world.  We enjoyed the two weeks off from school, the relaxing time around the fireplace and tree, playing Canasta, and making fudge and taffy. The two weeks of Christmas vacation started out with me helping dad put up the tree lights and the Santa Claus on the roof.

 I can remember helping dad pluck out a turkey downstairs and grinding dried bread for mom to make the dressing. The house always smelled so good with mom’s great homemade bread and fresh pies. Every night was like Christmas Eve for me because mom asked me if I cared if Santa came each night and left only one gift. I thought that was great and took advantage of the offer. I spent most Christmas nights playing with my Erector set and could really get into building tractors with wheels that could climb up an incline. Quiet Christmas nights were spent listening to Larry playing Clair de Lune along with watching mom beat everyone including Grandma Nash at times at Canasta.

Calvin Porter and I would spend a day or two hunting jack rabbits on the rattlesnake mountain. I loved waking him up early in the morning. I would knock on the door and the Porters would always tell me after asking if Calvin was home that he broke his leg and they shot him. What a terrible thing to tell a young boy. I can remember one particular Christmas that was held at Aunt Net and Uncle Grant’s home. You would have to see it to believe it.  The gifts were piled at least four feet deep and eight feet out from the tree.  My cousin Lewis Smith and I were playing games and we decided to play hide and seek with all of the other kids. Lewis came up with a great idea to run into the bathroom with the lights off and jump into the bath tub and hide. Well, the old time claw tubs had a rubber plug that would be used to plug the water drain.  And when we jumped in, the tub was plumb full of cold water. Needless to say we didn’t hide there very long.

Most of the time I spent with dad was in the Blacksmith Shop, helping make and sharpen plow shears.  I remember we repointed four shears for Serge Benson, and when we completed the rebuild and hard facing the shear points, dad would write Serge’s name on the shears and the price. I remember the price was $22.50. When Serge came in the shop to pick up the shears, he was a bit upset with the price and told dad that he could buy new shears for less money.  Dad emphasized the fact that these shears are better than new shears and would outlast four sets of new shears because they were case-hardened and had been rebuilt with grader blade hardened steel. Serge seemed to feel relieved to know his hard earned money was well spent.

 I can still remember the winter of 1949. The snow was so deep it had to be moved from the streets with bulldozers. School was out for a month and it seems that all of the farmers would have nothing better to do in Weston at this time, so they congregated around my Dads pot belly stove in the Blacksmith Shop and tell stories. I don’t know who had the best stories, but It seems like Ben Butters and Anton Koller came in a close second from the winner. The old shop was a good learning tool for me and helped establish my career which has been mechanical for the past 42 years.

 My dad was known to be able to fix or repair anything. When others could not build, fix, or repair, they would always bring it to my dad. I remember Kenton Fredrickson bringing in a new Ford truck that had a wheat bed on it and had been twisted or racked from attempting to dump the grain on a side hill. Kenton took the truck to all of the dealers in Cache Valley, and they told him he would have to take it to Frank Olsen to be repaired. When he showed up at the shop that hot July summer back in the 1950’s, I remember dad was very busy.  When Kenton approached dad to look at his truck frame that was badly twisted, dad quickly told him that he would have to take it to a Ford dealer. Kenton explained that he had already done so and that it could not be repaired. Dad told him to leave it, and he would get to it next week. Kenton told dad that he was in the middle of wheat harvest and had to get it done right away. Dad told him to leave it, and he would see what he could do.  As soon as Kenton drove off with his wife, dad told me to back the truck in the shop. We soon had all of the rigging tools and chain falls hooked to the frame and the rose bud from the acetylene oxygen torch to heat the frame in the spots dad told me to heat up. Gradually the frame started to reposition itself to its former straightness. We then checked the wheels from front to back to make certain the wheels were tracking correctly. It took us nearly two hours to straighten the frame, and dad told me to call Kenton and tell him his truck was as good as new. When Kenton arrived he could not believe his new truck was restored to its former self and saved him thousands of dollars. I remember helping dad straighten out several truck frames over the years.

Another funny story about the shop was when Clair my brother and all his kids came to visit dad in the shop. They walked from the house to the shop along the little trail dad carved out by walking to the shop over 77 years.  I was standing in the shop watching the kids enter the back door after Clair entered first. George Fredrickson (a crusty old local farmer) was watching the kids arrive one by one, and he had the most puzzling look on him face. When Clair approached George to greet him hello, George said. ‘’Hell Clair the good Lord meant for us to multiply and replenish the earth, but not for one man to do it all.”  Clair laughed and showed no real concern of anger and just laughed it off.

Another thing I always remember is going to Logan every Saturday with mom and dad. Mother would send me to the shop around noon to remind dad to be home at 1 p.m. to get to Logan on time. I would make this trip to the shop at least three times to remind dad, and he never seemed to get upset. He would tell me to tell mom to get ready and he would be there.  I could never figure this out because it appeared mom was nearly ready when I made the first trip to the shop. The ironic thing about all of this is when Dad got home, cleaned up, and we were waiting in the car honking at mom to hurry up.  I still don’t know how he did that. The trip to Logan was always the same.  Mom needed new shoes because her feet hurt.  Dad spent the afternoon going from bank to bank checking out his investment passbooks. Later in the evening, we always stopped at the Bluebird for dinner; and mom would top it off as we left by purchasing her favorite candy bar.  I believe it was called a Rocky Mountain and came in a silver wrapper

I spent many nights listening to my mother and Aunt Ruth Mendenhall who was taking care of my Grandmother Olsen who was bedridden. I can still hear that old clock on the wall tick away the hours as they talked about every bit of noteworthy news in the metropolis of Weston.  Ruth was very kind to me and always watched out for me, and I owe her a lot. When I was very sick and was at the doctor’s office, I needed a shot and was terribly afraid. Ruth said if I would have the shot, she would give me the puppy I always wanted, and she did. I named him Tiny, I believe he was a Fox Terrier breed.

I can remember all of the times my Grandmother Nash tended me when my parents were away on a trip. One particular time while my parents were away, Tamara and I decided to make a small fire in the garage. We made the fire right over the drain which was probably full of oil spills. Needless to say, it became a very large fire but we managed to get it out.  It probably took every bit of genius we might have had at the time to take care of it, but we managed. When the folks got home, they found out about it and were really upset. I wonder why? We did not receive our little gifts that Mom usually brought home if we were good kids.

I guess all of us kids remember the roadshows.  Mother was in charge of the drama in the Weston Ward, and she loved that time of the year when she could take all of the kids to the various wards in the Franklin Stake. I loved to tag along and see all of the excitement. I bet we could not pull off some of the plays she directed in those days. I remember putting black shoe polish on the faces of a few ward members before the play. Mother had a natural talent for art, cultural, and poetic gesture of all sorts. She did read some Shakespeare and loved all of the arts. She rented costumes from the Salt Lake Costume Store for over thirty years. That store just closed in 2008. It was located in the Sugarhouse area near my present home.

My mother did not like traveling salesmen, and in the early fifties the rural towns seemed to have their share of sales folks calling. The one she did not like to visit with was a crusty old, talkative salesman selling Fuller brush equipment and materials. Also the Watkins dealer--do you remember him? When they showed up at the front of the house, she would hide and I would tell him she was not home. Terrible thing to do but I guess necessary.  Mom liked to listen in on the old party phone lines. Pretty easy to do in those days. All one had to do is remove the mouth piece on the phone, and you were ready for a good hour or so of Ruby Palmer and Laura Porter chatting. What a way to get entertained, but at the time it was quite harmless; and I suppose helped pass the lonely quiet days in Weston.

My father was a man of great wisdom, and I don’t believe I ever heard him say one unkind word about anyone. In fact he used to say, ‘’ If you don’t have something good to say about someone, don’t say it at all.”   Dad and I went Ward Teaching together, as he was the Bishop, and in those days it was all right to take your son as a junior companion. The Bishop must had to visit the total inactive folks, maybe because they thought it would take that kind of horsepower to do any good with a total inactive family. My dad and I Liked to go in my Hot Rod. He was such a good sport with all of my nonsense but somehow supported me totally. In fact I actually believe he enjoyed helping with the production of it all. Any way dad and I were on our last stop to see old man Briggs who was the Trainmaster at the old railroad station by the tracks below the hill. We both knew Briggs didn’t like us coming, but he accepted the fact it was our duty and therefore respected the assignment.  A few times he even offered us a beer. I was so embarrassed I could have crawled under the car. One time we showed up late in the evening and knocked on his screen porch door. and I could hear his parrot making very strange noises.  It appeared he was talking to Briggs. It became quite clear that he was warning Briggs that the blank, blank, blank  ward teachers were here again. He was so mad he took a swing at the parrot cage, but to no avail. The parrot just kept chanting his verse, only even clearer in voice. We pretended to not hear what was being said by the parrot but to tell you the truth I couldn’t wait to leave.

OBITUARY

  Frank Lyder Olsen

On December 11, 1995, Frank L. Olsen passed away at his daughter’s home in Overland Park, Kansas, at the age of 96.

Born November 2, 1899, in Trondheim, Norway, the son of Martinus and Camilla Olsen, and emigrated to the United States in 1901.  Married Hilda Oveda Nash on March 4, 1927, at the Logan LDS Temple.

He worked as a blacksmith in Weston until he was 90 years old.  His beautiful ornamental ironwork adorns many of the homes and churches in Cache Valley.  Many farmers from southern Idaho and northern Utah depended on his blacksmith skills in keeping their farm machinery in repair.  During World War II, he taught welding and sheet metal classes at Utah State University.  Served as bishop of the Weston Ward and as a high counselor in the Franklin Stake High Council.

In his early years he was a well-known baseball pitcher throughout Cache Valley.  He has always had a love for sports, which has been a source of contentment watching the games on TV during his last few years.

He is survived by his wife Hilda and four children:  Clair N. Olsen and Virginia, Brigham City; Larry A. Olsen and Sharon, Cedar City; Tamara O. Evans and Bruce, Overland Park, Kansas; and Michael F. Olsen and Rebecca, Salt Lake City; 28 grandchildren and 48 great-grandchildren; two sisters, Golda Mitchell, Bountiful, and Dagna Wheatley of Los Altos, California.

Funeral services will be held Saturday, December 16, at 11 a.m. in the Weston First Ward chapel.  Friends and relatives may call at the Webb Mortuary at Preston from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. on Friday and at the Weston Ward Relief Society room on Saturday at 9 a.m. until time of services.  Internment wil be in the Weston Cemetery.

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR FRANK L. OLSEN

Speaker Michael F. Olsen

         I was hoping that I would be able to speak before they sang that song (Softly,

beautiful.  Brothers and Sisters I pray that the Lord will help me with the words that I have prepared to say today to give tribute to our father, your neighbor, and your friend. 

         Father was born on November 2, 1899, in Trondheim, Norway.  His mother's family were members of the Church, and they were converted in Norway.  My Grandfather Olsen was a master craftsman and had his own business and tools.  After his conversion to the Church, he was severely persecuted; and customers were told to boycott his business.  My grandparents decided to immigrate to America with their two little boys, Parley and Frank.  My father was only two years old at that time.  They had very little money.  Grandfather had to sell his tools to make the voyage because the Norwegian government would not let him take the tools out of the country.  They were sponsored by a family in Preston, Idaho.  But when they arrived in Preston, the family neglected to take care of them.  Here they were in a country with a foreign language and little visible means of support.  After several years after arriving in America, Grandfather moved to Weston, Idaho, where he worked as a blacksmith.  He finally had enough money to buy the blacksmith shop.  My father was trained by my grandfather to be a blacksmith, and they worked in the shop until grandfather's health failed.  Grandfather never accumulated any money for retirement years, and his six children had to support my grandparents for about the last ten years of their lives.  I have often heard my father say that his children would not have to ever support him in his declining years. 

         Dad was a master at his trade.  Farmers all over southern Idaho would bring in their broken machinery to have Dad fix it.  Farmers would often say if they couldn't fix it, Frank Olsen could fix it.  Before they had hay balers, he built many steel derricks out of old railroad rails.  You can still see those derricks throughout Cache Valley today.  My father was also a master at ornamental ironwork, as you can see the beautiful organ grills behind us and the stairway coming in.  Many porch railings  he made are still at the residences in Cache Valley today and also in Salt Lake City.  My father built the first railings for my down payment on my first house when I was 22 years old. 

         When the Weston Ward chapel was being constructed in the early 1950s, the bishop ask dad to do the ornamental porch railings and organ grills.  The brethren on the Church Building Committee had a great concern over a village blacksmith being able to do such work.  Or if a village blacksmith would be able to do ornamental iron work as well.  After they saw his work, they had no more concerns, and an article was written for the Church News about the village smithy's artistic work.  He worked at his shop until he was 90 years old.  Not only did dad work for 77 years; work for him was play.  He wonders and still looks at me with a little scorn that I want to take an early retirement.  He tried to interest his three sons to take over the shop.  We all had our duties to do in the shop, but we were all encouraged to pursue a vocation that we wanted. 

         Dad always loved to have a new car.  He would save his money until he had enough money to pay for the car.  His savings for the car were not put into an investment or a bank for safe keeping.  Instead he stashed his money in the furnace room on top of the cold air vent.  One day he went for the money, and it was gone.  He was sure that someone had robbed him.  A month later he found little bits of currency on the floor.  As he investigated it further, he found that the robber was no more than a mouse.  He gathered up all the little bits of currency and took it to President Hurren at the Walker Bank in Logan.  President Hurren put it back in the envelope and said that he would send it to the Treasurer Department to see if they would redeem the value of the currency.  He did get the money back, but he learned a valuable lesson about where to put his money. 

         During World War II, Dad taught metals, welding, and sheet metal work at Utah State University.  After the War he was encouraged to remain on the faculty.  But he loved his shop and could see better finances coming from the business than teaching. 

        

Dad was always active in the Church.  He served in many jobs throughout the years, such as ward clerk, bishop, and on the high council. 

         My father is what the ladies would call a handsome man.  He was always likened to Errol Flynn with his tiny little moustache to the handsome Clark Gable.  He was always immaculate with his fingernails to the clothes that he wore.  One story is told about his doctor who told his nurse to look at Dad's fingers and then tell him what occupation that she thought Dad was in.  The nurse guessed a surgeon or a lawyer.  The doctor would laugh, and he would say, "would you believe a blacksmith." 

         In his early twenties he was a famous baseball pitcher in Cache Valley.  He always loved and followed sports.  Even until this day he could tell you all of the players, who they play for, and their names.  My father owes much of his success to his faithful companion, my mother.  She was always there for him.  He always admired my mother, and she supported him in his business, church, and family responsibilities.  I don't believe there was ever a day that went by where dad didn't have three square meals a day--just like clockwork.  On Sundays mother would always have his Sunday clothes set out on the bed ready for him to go to Church--his shoes, his tie, and especially his Arrow shirt was waiting for him.  Dad was always supportive of mother and her everyday responsibilities as a homemaker, her Church drama director job, and parttime teacher here at school.  I remember my father often telling me to mind my mother, and never talk back to her. 

         When you stop to analyze what father was made up of.  I made a list, and I had to stop because I filled three pages.  So I shortened it up a bit, and all the good words seemed to fit perfectly.  Dad was not a great man such as extraordinary man, such as scientist or a rocket space engineer, but he was an extraordinary man as an ordinary man with extraordinary talents and traits which most men never possess.  Each word fits perfectly.  Honesty.  My father is the most honest man I have ever met.  He was always true to his beliefs.  He always wanted his three sons to go on missions, to serve time in the military, and to graduate with a senior education. 

         He was always dedicated to his family, his grandchildren, his children.  His work ethics were always of the highest standards you could ask for.  He was inventive and creative.  There wasn't anything that my father couldn't fix.  He was faithful--faithful to his wife, faithful to his family, faithful to his God.  He was thrifty.  My father was always a very conservative man, but yet he was always making sure that everybody had plenty.  Prayerful.  All of the times that I lived at home, when I would go to bed, I would always see my father on his knees praying before he would retire for the evening.  More importantly is wisdom. 

         If you think about it, I don't think anybody had more wisdom and counsel than our father.  No matter what the circumstances, no matter what problems we had as a family, or that people had in the ward, he was always understanding and mindful in listening.  Kindhearted.  I never knew of a time that my father said a bad word or a mean word to me.  He certainly had the chances with me.  Understanding.  In all my troubled times when I would go to my father to talk to him, he always understood.  He was always there for us.  Hard working.  My father was one of the hardest working men I ever knew.  He was never scared of work.  He would be up at six in the morning, and he would work until 8 o'clock at night, six days a week.  And he always told me, Michael never be scared of work.  Work will make you well. 

         Respect.  Everyone knows how much respected dad was.  I would like to tell you a story about my father when he visited the corporate offices of Kennecott in Salt Lake in 1983.  He came into the building and visited with the vice president, the manager, and other people.  And when he left they all said we don't know your father.  We can't tell you the feeling that came into the room when he walked into the room--the feeling of respect.  My father was never outspoken; he was a quiet man, very reserved, and never took judgement on anyone.  And I have never known him to say a bad word or an unkind word about anyone.  Loyalty.  My father was always loyal to his family first and to his Church and his work.  There were times when we all thought that the shop came first because that is where he dearly loved to be.  But he dearly loved his family, and I am sure that they came first.  I jotted down some of Dad's favorite sayings that I am sure will stay with me all my life.  Maybe you will remember some of these.  Some of them really hit home for me.  He used to tell me Michael, "A fool and his money are soon parted."  That kind of hits home.  "Never put off tomorrow what you can do today."  He also said, "Anything worth doing is worth doing right." 

         I remember all the cattle racks and the horse trailers, and all the hay racks that I helped my father build over the years for the farmers.  We would often lay out the steel, clamp it, tighten it, and tack weld it in place.  And dad would always say we better get the tape and measure the square to the corner.  We would measure the square from corner to corner until we welded it together.  Then he would say, "We better check it for square again."  He was a perfectionist in his work.  Always said, "look your best."  He always looked his best both in the blacksmith shop as a blacksmith, and an amazing transformation when he would come home and take off his dirty coveralls and put on his Kuppenheimer suit and come over here to the chapel.  The transformation was remarkable.  He always said that "prayer will give you answers to all things."  "Set your standards high," which he did.  Most importantly he said, "Always look for the good in everyone." 

We as a family would like to give thanks to Tamara and Bruce, especially Bruce for all the work and effort in their home that they have given my father, particularly in the last days when it was very difficult.  Bruce is a very special person to all of us in the family.  He always had constant care and love for Dad.  And we thank you for that Bruce.  I know that things would be much more difficult for mother and Tamara if he had not been there to help out for all of his needs. 

He worked as a blacksmith in Weston until he was 90 years old.  His beautiful ornamental iron work adorns many of the homes and churches in Cache Valley.  Many farmers in southern Idaho and northern Utah depended on his skills in keeping their farm machinery in repair.  During World War II, he taught welding and sheet metal classes at Utah State University.  Then later served as a bishop of the Weston Ward and a high councilman of the Franklin Stake.  And again in his early years, he was a well known baseball pitcher throughout Cache Valley.  Most of the games here at the Weston Ward, Dayton, and Clifton, I can remember when I was young that he never wanted to miss them.  He was always in love with sports and watching the games on television.  And, in fact, at times he was not only watching the game on television, but he would be listening to another game on the radio next to his ear. 

He is survived by his wife Hilda and four children--Clair Nash and Virginia Olsen of Brigham City; Larry Andrew and Sharon Olsen of Cedar City; Tamara Olsen and Bruce Evans of Overland Park, Kansas; and Michael Frank and Rebecca Olsen of Salt Lake City.  Dad had 29 grandchildren and 38 great grandchildren, and two sisters Golda Mitchell of Bountiful and Dagna Wheatley of Los Altos, California.  Dad, as the British say when they come to visit Kennecott after we have completed a major project,  "Well done."  Thank you, I say this prayer in the name of thy son Jesus Christ, Amen.

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR FRANK L. OLSEN

Speaker Serge Benson

Serge Benson, one of the speakers in the funeral, is a farmer in Weston and has been a good friend to both mother and dad.  He is a former Bishop of the Weston Ward.  His remarks are as follows:

Thank you Larry for that beautiful masterpiece.  I remember coming and sitting down there when Larry was just a young man and would come over here and play prior to priesthood meeting.  Thank you so much. 

Brothers and sisters I feel very humble today to occupy this position to pay tribute to such a noble and great man.  I want the Olsen family to know how much and dearly I love you.  You have all been a great example to us.  I am very pleased here today to see what seems to be old home week.  This is the way how Weston used to be today.  Maybe not in the material things but in the people who are attending here.  It is so good to see all of you.  It is great of you to come back to pay love and respect to such a noble family.  I can't help but feel that Weston Ward and Weston community and the entire Valley has been blessed by this family.  A few nights ago when Michael called me to inform me of the passing of his father, I was quite shocked because I hadn't heard it.  I would like to thank Michael for his marvelous address here today, and I can fully endorse all that he said of his father.

My daughter and I were doing a little reminiscing, and she penned a few lines that we talked about; and I would like to share them with you.  My daughter penned these lines as we talked about Bishop Olsen. 

"Today we remark on the life of our friend, a servant and brother, Frank.  His pioneer spirit and service to others were oh so great.  He was neat and particular, a soft spoken sort of guy. But when he chanced to meet you, he had a twinkle in his eye.  But in the morn the man would head to the blacksmith shop you see.  He had an idea to express so fine, displayed his creativity.  He was a masterpiece, a man of art.  His skill of creations were found.  He was a community builder of Weston.  He served as mayor of our town.  He served as a husband, a father, and bishop, leaving a legacy to his heirs.  We are grateful he shared his life with us, his life of 96 years.  Now he has returned to his maker, his Father up above.  With open arms his family awaits to join again in his love."  

Bishop Olsen was a tremendous individual.  My first recollection of Bishop Olsen was way back in the early 30s.  I believe that in the record that I read of him one time that it said the Olsen family came to Weston in 1910.  Bishop Olsen was only 10 years old.  When I first met him, he had grown into manhood, a young man married and working with his father in the blacksmith shop.  Back then we farmed entirely with horses, and it was necessary that we keep horses shod to do the work that we had to do.  And Bishop Olsen was a horse shoer.  And I remember coming up here with my father, going through those front doors on the north.  The forge was cranked to give it the air to heat the iron that would heat the shoes, shape the shoes, and Bishop Olsen would nail them on. 

The other day as I was looking through our Book of Remembrance.  I happened to find a picture that had been put in our Book of Remembrance.  It had been taken by the newspress, and I am sure you can't see it from down there, but here is a picture of Bishop Olsen standing in his shop over here.  The tall picture shows him with his lighted acetylene torch burning.  In the lower picture, it shows him standing next to his arc welder with the acetylene tanks to the side.  The old forge is visible there.  And that jack hammer is visible there.  The pot-bellied stove that sit in the center of the building that heated the building is there.  And apparently the stove that is now there is only the third stove since that building was built to heat that building.

I would like to share with you what the newswriter said, as Bishop Olsen gave it to him.  He said that Frank Olsen hardly looks 83 three years old.  Apparently this was taken when he was 83.  If you didn't know him, twenty years younger would be a better guess.  He only starts giving away his age when he begins talking about the old town of Weston.  An age that is now gone.  It was the age of a small town of self-containment when a community like Weston had everything a person could need or want.  It was a time when Weston to Logan was a long journey.  The automobile was young, wagon transportation was still the state of the art.  Frank used to make a living from the wagon and the horses.  He used to be one of many blacksmiths in a lively town.  Frank is the only one left now.  His town is quiet.  His old forge used to glow orange from hot coals.  Horses needed shoeing.  The tools being in the shop, but still they didn't just fit in.  The building constructed of many centuries before remains a holdout.  Its wood frame is dusty and dry, and the afternoon sun shines through the numerous holes in the roof.  The planks of the thick wood floor are contoured from the many years of aging.  Rusty tools and wooden bins remain but are never used in this modern era.  A coal stove, the shop's third since Frank had been there, heats the simple garage-like building whose large doors were filled with the wagon in mind.  There is a smell of steel in the air. 

You know when they had nothing in there but just the forge and a sledge hammer, it was amazing the amount of work they put out.  Then when they got electricity in there to run fans and stuff,   Bishop Olsen even fixed belts and pullies in the top of that ceiling that run every piece of equipment that he had by just pushing a lever this way or that way.  And they were all separate, so that by pushing the switch once he could run them all at once or one at a time.  It was just amazing how he had that fixed.  And of course when he got to the arc welder and acetylene, he did some marvelous work as Michael has so beautifully told us.  And I just want to tell you here that he said he was asked by this newsman if he still shod horses.  And he said, "No, I haven't shod horses in twenty five years.  It was hard work and dirty work."  And I can attest to that because when Frank Olsen quit shoeing horses, I had to start because we needed to have horses shod.  It takes a strong back and weak constitution to shoe horses, but I was interested in what he had to tell them.  He told the newsman, "I really like welding the tough jobs.  It is challenging." 

And I was interested in another paragraph here, he said, "When the automobile came in, these people started going out."  He remembers the first car in Cache Valley.  That is when the small town became obsolete, much like the bellows Frank used in pumping for his father.  "Once it was much livelier then," Frank said.  "Everyone seemed to have more time. Saturdays were like holidays.  We would have a baseball game, maybe a fist fight, a foot race or two, then we would go over and shoot a little pool, and then go to the dance."  He was a great sports fan.  He loved baseball. 

But what I wanted to attest to is what Michael said in Frank's neatness in his work and that.  I remember taking a job up there to him.  It wasn't a big job, but I was in a hurry for it, and he was real busy.  I was showing him some short cuts maybe we could make to get the job done faster to make it do for now.  He listened to what I had to say, and when I got through he just looked at me with that cute little smile he often gave, and he said, "Well, if we are going to fix it, let's fix it right."  That is the way he was.  I remember another time back in the early days when we used to haul sugar beets with a wagon and horses, no trucks then.  We had purchased a wagon from Lundalls, which was considered good wagons, but their load limits were only four to four and a half tons.  But we had good horses, and so we loaded it to the maximum.  We were hauling five and a half to six tons of beets.  Those hills with that wagon.  And one day unfortunately a spindle broke off.  Well, we needed it pretty bad, and we felt what are we going to do.  I wondered if there was any way possible that spindle could be welded back.  So we came up to Bishop Olsen and asked if he thought that he could weld it on.  He said, "I'll give it a try." But he said, "You will have to give me a couple of days. Not because I am awful busy, but it will take two days." 

Because Frank knew that the metal had to be a certain temperature and that heat and cold contracts and expands.  And so I watched him weld that, and I never seen him use any instruments that made them exactly true other than his naked eye.  But he placed that spindle on that wheel and eyeballed it to where he thought it should be.  Then he welded it just a little bit on one side and just a tinny bit on the other.  And then he let that metal cool.  He didn't do it until it was completely cool.  Then he did a little more.  That is why it took two days.  But you would have to see this to believe that he could put a spindle back on a wheel to run as true as it run.  Because if it hadn't been true, we would have worn the tires out.  But that wagon is still useable today with that welded spindle, and that has been many, many years ago.  So that is the kind of welding he did. 

And as Michael so beautifully told us, he said that if a job wasn't worth doing well it wasn't worth doing.  And if anything could be fixed, he could fix it.  President Jensen was telling me this morning that he would bring his plow shears over to him, and he would look at them, and then said, "Well, if I can see the holes, I can make them new."  And he could.  He could make them look like new and work like new.  He just had that art.  I remember taking many things to him that maybe got kinked or bent because of an accident or something that had a bow in it.  And he looked at it and shoved it in his forge for a few minutes and then lay it across that anvil, and he would pick up a big hammer, and give it a whack and eyeball it again.  He would say, "It looks good."  And it did, and it worked good too.  So that's the kind of a man that Bishop Olsen has been. 

I think if I could make a wish today and have it come true.  Do you know what my wish would be?  This shop that now stands over here could stand there for many, many years as a monument in honor of Frank Olsen.  For the great contribution that he has made to this community--to this entire area.  As I look around this little town of Weston, you know, it has made big changes over the many years.  But some of the things that holds many sentimental values have been torn down, destroyed, and I hate to see that.  I think that we should keep them for keepsakes for museums for history purposes.  Some of our young people today don't have any idea what they used to have to do years ago to make a living.  And there are things in that shop over there that would just astound you to go over and see it.  So it could be kept, if for nothing else, a museum for history purposes.  Well, we love you people for the great contributions you have made. 

As Michael has told us, Bishop Olsen has always served in the Church.  He served me as a Bishop, and I had the opportunity of being his Bishop.  Now, I wonder why Bishop Olsen was such a great leader.  But when I became his Bishop, I found out that the thing that made him a great leader was that he is a great follower.  Any thing you wanted to do you had his support.  Isn't it wonderful that one could be that kind of individual.  He was a man always to let his light so shine that you could see his good works.  And he glorified his Father which is Heaven. 

Now I know that there has been many times that in the last few years that probably the family thought their father would be leaving their mother, and they have made preparations for this. But when death comes, I don't think regardless of how much preparation we make we are always prepared to part with those that we love.  I know because I am an orphan.  I have neither father or mother.  There are days in my life that I would almost give my right arm if I could just speak to them.  But Bishop Olsen has a strong and fervent testimony of the gospel, and he lived the gospel.  And I know that through these kind of trials and tribulations the only peace and comfort one can get is from the scriptures and from talking with our Heavenly Father.  I know this.  And there are a few scriptures that have always been very special to me and have given me a lot of comfort that I would like to share with you.  

And one of them is taken from John 11:25-26, where the Savior was speaking, and he said, "I am the resurrection and the life.  He that believeth in me though he were dead yet shall he live.  And whosoever liveth and believe in me shall never die.  In John 3:16, it says, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life."  Then as the Savior departed from his apostles, He made this statement that is found in John 14:27, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth give I unto you.  Let not your hearts be troubled neither let it be afraid." 

Brother Michael told me the other night in our phone conversation that his Daddy left peacefully. That he just slept away.  And you know my thoughts went immediately to the 42nd Section of the Doctrine and Covenants, where it tells us in there, "And it shall come to pass that those that die unto me shall not taste of death, for it will be sweet unto them."  Now I believe that this passage of scripture is not suggesting that we have to be perfect in this life.  But I believe that it is suggesting that we are striving to obtain perfection through Christ.  Living His gospel, keeping His commandments, having a testimony of His life and mission.  I can testify to you that I know that Bishop Olsen done all these. 

So death was sweet unto him.  I believe also if at this moment this lovely family could speak to their husband and father, you would probably here these words, "God knew you were suffering, that the hills were hard to climb.  So he gently closed your eyelids and whispered peace be thine.  In tears we have watched you sinking.  We have watched you fade away.  Our hearts were nearly broken.  You fought so hard to stay.  It broke our hearts to see you go, but you did not go alone, for part of us went with you the day God called you home."  Knowing Bishop Olsen as I know him, if he could visit with you for just a few moments this is what he would say to his family.  "I must leave for a little while.  Please do not grieve and shed borrowed tears.  And hug your sorrows to you though these years.  But start out bravely with a gallant smile and for my sake and my name, live on and do all things the same.  Feed not your loneliness on empty days but fill each waking hour in useful ways.  Reach out your hand in comfort and in cheer, and I in turn will comfort you and hold you near.  And never, never be afraid to die for I'm waiting for you close by." 

I want this family to know that all of the people here in Weston love you, and today's attendance shows that.  We hope that Weston may always be your home.  That you will consider us a part of you.  We are grateful for the many contributions that you have made in our behalf.  As I look over this lovely posterity today, I am very impressed.  I want Sister Olsen to know how much we dearly love her.  She had a great husband, and she has been a wonderful wife and companion.  But to my recollection, Sister Olsen, I don't believe that you have ever been released as Drama Director.  She served for many years, and I want to tell you that she was tops.  The MIA used her for years and years to put on plays, and she was even able to get me to participate in some of them.  I remember the love and patience that she showed everyone who participated to get them to act out their parts.  She was terrific.  We love you, Sister Olsen. 

I want you to know brothers and sisters that I know without any question of doubt that the gospel of Jesus Christ is true.  God lives.  Jesus Christ is His Son.  He is our Savior and our Redeemer.  Death is not the end.  Death is only the beginning of life everlasting.  And I hope that in the eternities to come that we could all be together as we are today, enjoying each other, living the gospel to its fullest.  This life is nothing more than a proving ground for you and me.  And if we can live our lives as Bishop Frank Olsen lived his.  He worked hard.  He fought a good fight.  He finished the work, and he endured to the end.  And all of us have been commanded to endure to the end.  And sometimes our struggles in life gets tough.  But the Lord has always told us, it wouldn't be easy.  But it would be worth it.  So I hope and pray that the Lord will bless us all and especially bless the Olsen family, comfort you and help you understand the reason why. 

I just want to compliment Tamara and Dr. Bruce for your kindness for caring for your mom and dad.  Not that the rest of you haven't either.  But I think it is marvelous when a family will support their mother and father in their great hour of need.  You know that when we come into this life our parents took care of us.  They provided for us the things that we needed to grow and to learn.  And it is no more than right that we do likewise for them when they get to the age where they cannot.  I often think of the fifth commandment the Lord has given to us.  He said, "Honor thy father and mother all the days of thy life that thy days may be long upon the earth that the Lord thy God giveth thee."  If we had more parents in this world today like Bishop and Sister Olsen and their family is now, we wouldn't have near the crime that is facing this world.  So God bless you.  I love you, and I bear you this testimony in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.  Amen.

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR FRANK L. OLSEN

Remarks by Bishop Gary Leak

I told my wife that I want Bishop Benson to speak at my funeral, so I hope that he lives a long time.  The time has been spent, but I had just a couple of things that I wanted to say and a few scriptures that I would like to read. 

From the Doctrine and Covenants, Section 76, it reads, "They are they who receive the testimony of Jesus and believe on his name and were baptized after the manner of his burial and being buried in the water in his name and according to the commandments which he has given.  That by keeping the commandments they might be washed and cleansed of all of their sins and receive the Holy Ghost by the laying of hands of him who is ordained with this power.  And whoever come by faith and are sealed by the holy spirit of promise which the Father sheds forth on all those who are just and true."  And this describes those who have earned their right into the Celestial kingdom, and also describes Frank Olsen.

I was talking to Michael just before the funeral here today.  He commented if anybody is going to make it to the Celestial kingdom, I think it would be my dad.  And as far as I know, he is probably right.  I am not the judge as only the Lord Jesus Christ is, but you can bet he has got a pretty good shot. 

I lived next door to Brother and Sister Olsen for about three years before we moved down the road and bought a farm.  I appreciated their friendship, and they kind of got to my oldest boy when he was three or four years old.  I appreciated them a lot.  And I was just thinking this morning that we move here twenty four or twenty five years ago, something like that.  And when you move into a small town, people always tell you who's what and what's who and everything about everybody else.  Two things crossed my mind.  I never did ever hear Frank or Hilda Olsen ever, ever say anything derogatory about anybody.  And I never ever heard anybody say anything derogatory about them.  And that is quite a tribute.  And I hope that I am even half the man that Brother Olsen was and is in keeping the faith and doing the things that I am suppose to do.  There have been some great bishops in Weston, and I don't hold a candle to any of them, but I do appreciate many of them and all of them and some more than others.  Even though he was not bishop when I was here, there has been a great line of them here; and I am sure that he was one of the best. 

My testimony is based upon what I believe and what I have read and what I feel.  It is also based on other people's testimonies, and Brother Frank Olsen is one of those who you have to look at and say my testimony must be true for a great man like that to believe.  I want you to know that I have a testimony of this gospel, and I know it is true.  I appreciate the Olsens, just as Bishop Benson has said, for all they have done for us in behalf of the Weston Ward.  I would like to express my appreciation to the Olsen family, especially Sister Olsen and let her know that we still haven't released her from Drama Director.  I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

 

 

OBITUARY

Hilda N. Olsen

Hilda Oveda Nash Olsen, 91, passed away on August 30, 1996, at the home of her daughter Tamara Evans in Overland Park, Kansas, where she has resided for the past three years.

She was born December 1, 1904, at Rexburg, Idaho, as the fifth of six children, to Andrew Bartlett Nash and Hulda Oveda Hansen.  At the age of three, her mother passed away, and her father allowed his sister Emmanett and her husband, Grant Lewis, to raise her as part of their family in Franklin, Idaho.

In her younger years, she taught at the Weston Elementary School for several years, where she met her future husband.  She married Frank Lyder Olsen, on March 4, 1927, at the Logan LDS Temple.  Her husband passed away eight months ago, on December 11, 1996.  They shared nearly 70 years of married life in Weston.  As an active member of the Weston Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she had numerous church assignments.  The two assignments she dearly loved and had the longest longevity were ward drama director for over 30 years and literary teacher in the Relief Society.  She had a talent for writing and reading tributes to people honored both in life and death.

Each grandchild felt her special gift of making them feel important and endeared to her.  This special gift was also extended to her friends and members of the ward.  She especially loved the youth and young married couples, and this love was returned by all who knew her.

She was preceded in death by all her brothers and sisters, Bartlett, Fern Hatch, Clyde, Weldon, Ila Olsen, half sister, Leah Knudson, and half Brother, Ross Nash, and stepbrothers Archie and Charles Gill. She was also preceded in death by members of her second family, Dallas and LaNay Lewis and is survived by Earl and Josie Lewis and Estelle and Verl Smith, of Franklin, Idaho.

Frank and Hilda have four children who are all living, Clair Nash and Virginia Olsen, Brigham City; Larry and Sharon Olsen, Cedar City; Tamara and Bruce Evans, Overland Park, Kansas; and Michael F. and Rebecca Olsen, Salt Lake City.  They have 28 grandchildren and 39 great-grandchildren.

Family and friends are invited to a viewing from 6 to 8 p.m., Wednesday, September 4, at the Webb Mortuary in Preston, and from 9:30 until the noon funeral services, Thursday, September 5, at the Weston Ward. Burial and dedication of the grave will be at the Weston Cemetery.

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR HILDA NASH OLSEN

Speaker Estelle Lewis Smith

Hilda Oveda Nash Olsen, age 91, passed away on August 30, 1996, at the home of her daughter, Tamara Evans, in Overland Park, Kansas, where she had been residing for the past three years.  She was born on December 1, 1904, in Rexburg, Idaho, as the fifth of six children to Andrew Bartlett Nash and Hulda Oveda Hansen.  At the age of three, her mother passed away, and her father allowed his sister Emmanette and her husband Grant Lewis to raise her as part of their family in Franklin, Idaho. 

In her younger years she taught at the Weston Elementary school for several years where she met her future husband.  She married Frank Lyder Olsen on March 4, 1927, at the Logan LDS Temple.  Her husband passed away eight months ago on December 11, 1995.  They shared nearly 70 years of married life in Weston.  As an active member of the Weston Ward and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she had numerous church assignments.  But two assignments that she dearly loved and had the longest longevity were ward drama director for 30 years and the literary teacher in the Relief Society.  She had a talent of writing and reading tributes to people who were being honored in both life and death.

Each grandchild felt her special gift in making them feel important and endeared to her.  This special gift was also extended to the friends and members of her ward.  She especially loved the youth and young married couples, and this love was returned by all who knew her. 

She was preceded in death by all of her brothers and sisters.  Bartlett, Fern Hatch, Clyde, Weldon, and Ila Olsen, and half sister Leah Nash Knudson and half brother Ross Nash, and step- brothers are Archie and Charles Gill.  She was also preceded in death by members of her second family,  Dallas and LaNay Lewis,  and is survived by Earl and Josie Lewis and Estelle and Verl Smith of Franklin, Idaho. 

Frank and Hilda have four children who are all living, Clair Nash and Virginia Olsen, Brigham City; Larry Andrew and Sharon Olsen, Cedar City; Tamara and Bruce Evans, Overland Park, Kansas; and Michael Frank and Rebecca Olsen, Salt Lake City.  They have left a posterity of 29 grandchildren and 39 great grandchildren.  What a special family Frank and Hilda have.  They can say, "Well done," and can be pleased and proud of all of them. 

Hilda's older sister Fern wrote a tribute to Frank and Hilda on their Golden Wedding.  She told how she had three brothers, Bartlett, Clyde, and Weldon, and she was really over numbered.  She always wanted a sister of her own.  Fern decided that there were no more girls in heaven.  Then on December 1, 1904, she finally got a sister, all of her own, Hilda.  Two years later she got another sister, Ila.  She said that now the boys could never out number her any more, because now there were three girls in the family.  Hilda was the only sister I had, so I know how Fern felt when she got a sister all of her own.  I could have never had a sister that I would have loved more than Hilda.  She was so good to me--always there for special occasions.  She helped me so much with my mother when she was sick for so long.  I dearly loved her, and I missed her so much when she went to live with Tamara and Bruce.  Earl and I loved to take them to Logan shopping and to Preston.  We have many fond memories of these trips together.  Hilda and Frank have many friends that visited them often.  But there is one that I would like to mention and honor specially--Laura Porter was a special friend and a special neighbor.  She helped them so much the last years that they lived here in Weston.  I know the family and I appreciated and loved her for all her love and kindness to them.  Hilda told me many times that she didn't know what she would ever do without Laura.  Thanks so much Laura. 

Our family had a great Christmas tradition that mother and dad started when they were first married.  On Christmas Eve Frank and Hilda and family and all of our family had a fun Christmas party.  We exchanged gifts and had lots of good food and a fun program.  Hilda and Frank were always there until their children had gone on their own.  Then they still came.  I have fond memories of all of these years.  After mother was not well and could not have all of us at her house, they came to my house; and we still had this special Christmas tradition.  I hope and pray that Hilda and Frank's family will keep in touch with one another and that they will keep in touch with our family too.  They are all so far away, and we don't get to see them very much; and we really miss seeing them.  And I hope that they will keep in touch with us. 

I have a poem that I wrote for Hilda quite awhile ago, just a little short one, and I would like to read it. 

To a special sister that came to our house one day

To be with us in our family was something wonderful I would say.

I loved her very much for all she has done for me.

She was such a good example, and was always there you see.

Her husband and her family I loved with all my heart.

They have been good to me right from the very start.

So when I think of all the good times we have had together,

I've been a lucky person to have a sister like Hilda.

And I am really glad.

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR HILDA NASH OLSEN

Speaker Susan Olsen Merryweather

A TRIBUTE TO GRANDMA

One summer a long time ago

I got to go to Grandma's house.

I'll call it the Weston Hotel.

Away from all my brothers and household chores

I got to have a real vacate, just me, myself, you know.

Grandma would watch a TV show called, "As the World Turns."

Everyday at 11 sharp, we both tuned in to learn.

Grandpa would arrive shortly before noon.

His lunch was waiting not a minute too soon.

I got to go to Grandma's store and purchase a few things.

No nickels, no dimes, no quarters, just bill my Grandma please!

Grandma's house was always neat,

Her furniture dust free.

The house was aromatic, with fried chicken, potatoes,

And fresh garden peas.

I loved the smell of grandma's house,

It made me feel at home.

At night, Gam and Grandpa's knees were bent

Giving thanks for blessings; it was real intent.

From this my relationship with Grandma grew,

And I knew I had work to do.

From then till now I frequently wrote,

Sometimes a card or even a quick note.

My eyes would light up to get in the mail

A letter from Grandma and not the same old bills.

Inside would be words of her great wisdom,

Be happy, have patience, your boys will grow.

Then you will ask, where did the time go?

Over the Bear River and through the woods

The station wagon headed like the engine that could.

All eyes were alert so they could shrill

I'm the first to see the Weston Hill.

Grandma would feed you hungry or not.

Just try and say "no," you'd see what you got.

Cake n' ice-cream, cookies galore.

Candy was hidden in the second drawer.

Licorice and peanuts were spread all around.

The boys would empty them and then rebound.

Black olives became an Olsen must.

She'd open four cans and not even fuss.

No one could match Gam's homemade pickles.

Not Nalley's, not Vlasic, not even Martha Stuart.

Travel treats were given for on the way home.

Grandma knew it would help calm the storm.

Examples of love and kindness to others

Are qualities she shared through cards and letters.

Prompt to send B-day cards and not miss a one.

I've often wondered how she got the job done.

A mother, grandmother, great grandmother she'll always be.

Today we honor her with integrity.

So when you sit down to write your next letter.

Think of Grandma Gam and all her letters.

Hand written with ink and carefully sent.

These are treasures of ours and our descent.

So read them often, again and again,

When feeling down, lift up that chin.

For words and deed are never forgot

When they're held deep, deep in your heart.

We love you Gam!

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR HILDA NASH OLSEN

Speaker Laurie Olsen Houchin

I am Laurie, and I'm the first granddaughter.  I would like to share the special memories that Marty, Troy, and Lisa were talking about Grandma last night of the special memories that we have of our Grandma.  I know that we will always treasure Grandma's smile, the laughter in her eyes, her understanding, wisdom and compassion.

We all have fond memories as Susan said of walking to Jerry's Store and each buying a big bag full of candy and just saying, "Put it on my Grandma's bill."  I remember taking many walks with my Grandma, and Grandma always held my hand.  You know at the time I thought I was helping my Grandma out.  Now that I think about it, I just really appreciate the security and comfort I had in holding my Grandmother's hand. 

Grandma had the ability to make everyone she came in contact so special.  She could find the good in everything she did.  I know we all take pride belonging to such a wonderful family.  Grandma always let us know how important the family was.  Marty, Troy, and Lisa last night were talking about some of our childhood memories with Grandma.  Christmas was always a special time, and we all remember in our home in Cedar City looking out the front window waiting for Grandma and Grandpa to arrive.  They had many trips to Cedar City. 

We remember staying up all night playing cards with Grandma.  I think this is the only Grandma I know who would stay up after midnight playing games with us. 

One of my fond memories is, when I was just little, being in Grandpa's blacksmith shop; and I was helping Grandpa sweep the floor and clean up the shop.  My Grandpa told me, "Laurie, I think that this is so clean we could have a dance in here."  And when we closed the shop down that evening, I remember my Grandpa taking me in his arms, and sharing that special dance with my Grandpa; holding hands and walking to Grandma's house.  Then Grandma greeted us at the door, but she kindly escorted us right down to the basement with a box of Tide.  I guess we were pretty dirty. 

Grandma had a kind and warm loving heart.  She was always ready to lend a hand or lift a troubled heart.  Grandma was the type of person everyone wanted to be close to from the younger on up.  And this reminds me when Jesus Christ was here on earth helping little children always to be by his side.  Jesus Christ would love and bless the children, and I know that Heavenly Father placed Grandma here on earth to love and bless the children. 

Grandma was so proud of all of her grandchildren--all 69 of us.  She always remembered birthdays, weddings, or any special event in her grandchildren's lives that made it so special that Grandma was there. 

In closing just a note to the grandchildren.  I know that Grandma wants us all to be at peace.  And Grandma has always told us to always seek the desires of our heart; and most of all remember who we are.  We come from the best.  This I say in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ.  Amen

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR HILDA NASH OLSEN

Speaker Kimberly Evans Hughes

Tribute Written by Stephanie Evans Bishop

The most recent memories of Grandma for our family have been directly related to our home in Kansas City.  As many of you know, my parents have cared for my grandparents in their home since February of 1993.  Although Grandma was unable to tend to all of her physical needs in her later years, she continued to exhibit all of the wonderful attributes that made her our special Grandma.  These include unconditional love for everyone; thought-less service to others; a love for poem and letter writing; energetic storytelling; visiting; and great cooking.

Showing unconditional love for all came so easy to Grandma.  Fortunately for our family, Grandma was able to spend many hours with three of her great-grand children.  Even with these three rambunctious children surrounding her all the time, she remained calm and showed love.  She spent many joyful hours observing Brandon, Hunter, and Cody.  Often times, these three boys would surround Grandma with their dinosaurs and lizards, and pretend to growl and fight.  She would growl right back!!  Who knew she loved creatures of the wild so much?  The boys loved to spend time in her room.  Hunter especially found joy in swinging on her walker.  "Wheeee," he'd say, and she'd laugh and laugh!!!  Grandma certainly loved all and made everyone feel he or she was their favorite!

Another quality Grandma continued to show in her later years was thoughtless service to others.  When Grandpa was living in Kansas City, Grandma would spend hours with him watching sports on television and tending to his physically and emotional needs.  Although it was difficult to converse with Grandpa, she found ways to make him happy.  She loved him so much their entire 68 years together and served him everyday. 

Grandma and Grandpa were both able to attend Kim and Eric's wedding.  Kim will always remember Grandma because she celebrated her and Cody's birthday on March 4--the day Grandpa and Grandma were married.  Grandma also attended Tanya and Mark's sealing in Provo.  Although not feeling well physically, Grandma made the trip.  She looked so beautiful in the temple.  She was able to see many of you during that last trip.  That meant so much to her for she loved her family and friends.  She also loved to serve her great-grand children.  When Hunter and Cody were babies, she loved to feed them their meals.  At least, that is what she told us!  She delighted at every bite and spit up that they made.

Another quality that all of us have experienced first-hand with Grandma is letter and poem writing.  Even as a 92-year-old with hands that ached and often would not function as she wished, she wrote letters.  She kept all of her addresses and birthdays in her 1950 Hallmark calendar that she probably got free at ZCMI.  It is worn and tattered but very well used.  Never has a year gone by where we have not received a card on our birthday with a little "something" inside to cheer us up!  She loved to write and create poems.  My sister Stephanie will cherish forever the poem she wrote Hunter on his first birthday, and Tanya has saved all her mission letters she received from Grandma.  There were a source of great strength and comfort for her while she was in Japan. 

She also loved to receive letters, words from home, family, and friends helped her through some of her lonely days and nights.  She would like all of you to know how much these letters meant to her the past four years.  Just as letters tell the story, Grandma told the best tales.  A favorite family story is that of "Little Black Sambo."  She managed to captivate Brandon and Hunter's attention for twenty minutes with that story. 

Christmas was always a wonderful time to visit with Grandma.  Grandma spent the last three Christmases with us.  We didn't have to travel thousands of miles in snowy weather to enjoy Grandma and Grandpa.  Greg liked to come home and visit with Grandma.  He would share all of his tales in California with her, and she told him that he was the most handsome grandson.  Which one of you grandchildren haven't heard that?  At Christmas she loved to receive chocolates.  Grandma would never refuse a box of chocolates.  And she was always so nice to share. 

We all loved Grandma's delicious dinners.  Thank goodness she was able to teach my mom some of her special secret recipes.  Many fall Saturdays were spent in mom's kitchen with Grandma as the cooking instructor and mom as the willing student.  Grandma passed down to mom her recipes for making our favorites-- raspberry jam, sweet cucumbers, and mustard pickles.  My sister Chris loves Grandma's cherry pie.  And whenever she came to visit, Grandma always made it for her.  You would think that Christine was her favorite.

My mom has given endless hours of service to Grandma.  And we have all been blessed because of this.  Mom is one special lady that we love very much.  Of course, Dad, was Grandma's favorite son-in-law.  "What would we ever do without Bruce," Grandma would say.  She worshipped Dad even though he took her only daughter eleven hundred miles away for 35 years.  She never said a negative word about that.  As each of us remembers these wonderful qualities, may we look inward to our own lives and examine how we are like Grandma.  We are all connected to her as sons and daughters, grand and great grandchildren, and other family members and friends.  May be use the sweet memory of our time with her to better ourselves and in return honor her life by doing so.  And I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR HILDA NASH OLSEN

Speaker Dana Olsen Lorence

A TRIBUTE TO GRANDMOTHER

She was different; she was special; unique in a thousand ways.

She was giving; she was loving, and we will miss her in all our days.  There are those who covet things and court it like a beau. There are those who covet wealth kneeling in its glow, but she was different. 

There are some who strive for praise.  They yearn for world applause.  There are some who take sweet comfort as there one and only cause, but she was different.  There are some who race for power and sure it will bring them joy.  Some who long for pleasure with time and endless joy, but she was different.

Her legacy was friendship--she was so giving of her time.  Her bequest was her faith in God, her children her books of rhyme.  She knew sorrow in great measure and was stung by illness too, but neither could defeat her, nothing her faith couldn't do. 

But when she heard death coming, she didn't cower in fear, but instead she called out boldly, my Lord, I'm over here.  I'm going home to be with mother.  She told me with her eyes a glow.  I'll see my parents in heaven.  They are waiting there I know. 

Of course the Lord will welcome her with his angels mighty fine.  The beauty of the Celestial place devoid of pain and crime.  And so instead of mourning her, let's remember her this hour.  We really should be celebrating the blooming of a flower.  For heaven will be much richer when she puts her pen to rhyme describing golden medlies with lyricalness sublime. 

But forgive us Lord for pining for wishing she were here.  It's hard to give up someone we have come to love so dear.  Because you see, she was different, she was special, unique in a thousand ways.  She was loving, she was giving, and we will miss her in all our days.

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR HILDA NASH OLSEN

Speaker D. A. Nash

I hesitate to interrupt the feelings that we all have as we have listened to these beautiful tributes by beautiful granddaughters, and the message in beautiful music that Larry has just played. 

It is good to meet here and to look into your faces today, my brothers and sisters, as I recognize many of the long, long time, I guess I could say, families of Weston and surrounding area that have been a part of Hilda and Frank's lives and they a part of their lives.  Family members here that mean so much to her.  On behalf of the family, I welcome each of you. 

It is with a feeling of heavy responsibility that I share some thoughts with you today.  I can't remember when I didn't know Hilda.  She and my dad, Ariel, were cousins.  We had a long relationship with them.  I remember as a young boy, Hilda and Frank, Weldon and Veleta, and my parents, Ariel and Ruby, sharing many times together.  They were very close as couples.  And on a personal basis I appreciate so much her love and support, her encouragement throughout my life.  Particularly, I would remember many times she would say, "You did so good."  And as I served as her Bishop for a number of years, she was always there with a compliment, with a word of encouragement.  Betty and I frequently visited her home and visited with her, and when we left we always felt lifted up. 

There is a grand reunion going on right now.  Hilda greeted by her beloved husband Frank, her parents, other loved ones, and many close friends.  One of the most tender moments in our lives is when mother passes away, and we lay her mortal body to rest.  As I have listened today to the proceedings of these services, and as I prepared what remarks I may make, I have reflected on many experiences that bring back many things that I cherish.  We want you as a family, children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters, and spouses, that we feel of your loss also.  She was a loving wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, and neighbor.  Hilda loved life; she lived it with enthusiasm every day.  She gave each day all she had and then some.  She appreciated the humorous side of life as well as the every day challenges that come into all of our lives. 

Reference has been made today that she loved to write poetry.  I would like to call on the poets today as I pay tribute to her, and one is Edgar A. Guest.  I feel that he described her feelings about life when he wrote the poem entitled, "Life," and I would like to share it with you now in tribute to her.

She would grant us all we seek

Give her strength where we are weak

Beauty she would let it go

For the joy we yearn to know.

Life she would gladly give it to

From the dreams we would pursue

She would toil that we might play

That is mother's way.

Not enough for her are flowers

Her life is so bent with ours

That in all that we dare and do

She is partner through and through.

Suffer when we suffer pain

Happy when we smile again

Living with us night and day

That is mother's way.

If she were permitted to speak to you today as her family members, I feel that one of the first things that she would day to you is, "I love you."  And then she would express her gratitude to you for your love to her.  Also because of greatly increased vision and understanding, she would ask each of you, as her loved ones, and each of us as friends, to follow and live the teachings of the Savior.  She would encourage each of you to strive more fully to understand the principles of the gospel and to apply them to your lives.  She would even perhaps remind you of a scripture in Alma.  "Behold this life is the time to prepare to meet God."  Let me share with you why I feel she was so concerned about you and your preparation for life after death.

Death as we know it ends this mortal existence.  It brings to an end to the time we have to prepare for eternal life.  And to live in the presence of our Father in Heaven.  It has been said that these few years that we have here upon this earth in mortality make up the most important time in our lives.  Because it is so important, we should ask ourselves frequently how am I pro-gressing towards reaching that goal with living with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and our Heavenly Father in the Celestial Kingdom.  And we need to ask ourselves frequently how am I progressing toward that goal.  Remembering that this life is the time to prepare to meet God.  We ourselves should try to remember that we should not put off until tomorrow the things that we should do today.  For tomorrow may never come. 

I pray that we may feel this urgency of fulfilling the require-ments necessary to gain that great blessing that we desire, and that we have the courage to put our lives in order.  Perhaps to sacrifice a few things that we feel right now are so very important but not nearly as important as the principles of the gospel in our lives.  There are many decisions that we must make, and we know sometimes that we fall short.  And when we do we should have the courage and determination to do something about it while there is still time. 

Of every life it may be said, so much to do so little time.  The Lord has said those who keep my second estate shall have glory added upon their heads forever and ever.  What a glorious promise.  President Joseph F. Smith has said, "Death is one of the grandest blessings in a divine economy.  We are born that we might put on mortality, that is that we may clothe our spirits with a body.  Such a blessing is the first step toward an immortal body, and the second step is death.  Death lies along the road of eternal progress.  And though hard to bear, no one who believes in the gospel of Jesus Christ and especially the resurrection would have it otherwise."

As you mourn this day, as we join you in mourning, sensing the great loss of the passing of such an important person in your lives, I share with you these comforting words of the Savior, as recorded in John, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you, not as the world give, give I unto you.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."  And from President Spencer W. Kimball, "Sometime we will understand fully and when we see back from the vantage point of the future, we shall be satisfied with the many happenings of this life which seem so difficult to comprehend."

We are gathered here today to say farewell.  Yes, for just a little while.  May I say and suggest to you that you stay close as a family.  I commend you as family members for the love and respect you have for each other, for the honor you have brought to the name of your parents.  May you earnestly strive to bring honor to that great name. 

I bear testimony to you that our Heavenly Father loves each one of us.  He cares about us.  He cares about our happiness.  He wants us to succeed in life, to be happy.  I know that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ came to this earth.  He lived and he died for us.  He atoned for our sins.  He broke the bands of death so that each of us may be resurrected, and through the principle of repentance we can be forgiven of our sins, joined together as families forever.  May we prepare each day for that great blessing we all desire so much. 

I pray that our Heavenly Father will watch over each of you, that he will bless you with those things that will be for your good and benefit, that you will put into your lives those principles that you have learned so well from your parents, and your grandparents and others that you have had a relationship with.  May he bless you to this end.  I pray for you.  I thank you for all that you have done for us as family and community in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen

FUNERAL SERVICE FOR HILDA NASH OLSEN

Speaker Bishop Gary Leak

My grandparents died a couple of years ago, and it is about the same kind of circumstances in a way.  I will say the same thing now as I said then.  I think Hilda didn't die last Friday.  She died last December, and it has been a battle without her husband.

I can't imagine being married that long and not having your mate with you.  It is a hard thing for her to do, I think, to be without Frank.  Without a doubt she will be happier now than she has been for a long time. 

I have known the Olsen family for some time.  My first recollection of knowing the Olsen family, not recollection but, you know when you have 29 grandchildren and 40 great grand-children you are bound to run into some of them here or there--everywhere. 

Probably not many of you know that Tamara and I went to school together in West Jordan about 30 some years ago.  I hope her memory is a lot worse than mine.  She was a teacher and I was a student.  I never realized that until we were over visiting Hilda  when they came back from Kansas that summer.  I'm not sure who it hit first, but like I say all of our memories were not that good.

I have lived next door to Frank and Hilda for about three years.  I lived across the street, and I appreciate her and treating Matthew like she did, as if he was one of her grand kids.  I don't know how many others in the ward, I have no idea, how many she has treated equally as good. 

I look around and it is amazing to me how sharp she was.  She remembered things.  She didn't forget anybody, and she knew what was going around town. I thought maybe that her memory would slip or whatever when she got that old.  But she knew exactly what was going on and what I have been doing, and what my boys had been doing and everything else.  So she kept track of us.  I appreciated her when I got to know her. 

I feel cheated as a Bishop that they were later in their years when I was Bishop because I think they carried this ward with some others for a long time.  They are those kind of people that a bishop loved to have in a ward and do the best they can and never complain.  I think Hilda is that kind of person.   My first memories of her are probably, or thoughts of her were, Frank was the greatest Blacksmith that every was, no one could do that kind of stuff with steel.

Hilda was a classy lady.  She keeps herself up, she dresses nice.  She is clean and a wonderful person.  I am grateful that I got to know her.

On behalf of the ward and the community here, I want you as a family to know how much we appreciated her and Frank for all they have done here in Weston.  I think like Bishop Nash that she has set the standard for all of us, especially the family to live up to.  I think that if she had a last request it would be to do what she has taught you to do, and do the things that she has set the example for you.  That would be my prayer this day also. 

I have a testimony of this gospel.  I know that it is true.  And especially at these times when a loved one is gone, our testimony becomes stronger because we have to dig deep and pray to find out what is really on the other side.  That it is really there.  It is my testimony that there is a God in Heaven and Jesus Christ, His Son, presented a plan that we can all return to him.  Frank is with her with all the other people who have gone forward, having a tremendous reunion, and waiting for all of us to join them, and hoping that we will all be together in the same place in the hereafter.  I say these things humbly in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.