Auntie's Day: Honoring the Original Auntie Nettie

The spirits of my family have been really active lately in trying to bring our focus back to them. Between babies sharing family names, the genetic legacies of generations showing up on little shiny faces, and other dreams and visitations  - let's just say, I don't believe in "coincidences."

Like this one, I had already been planning a trip to Canada, near Nova Scotia, when a distant cousin, the author of a biography about our shared paternal grandfather, sent me an e-mail letting me know about a family reunion up in Prince Edward Island --the first one ever - the week BEFORE I was due to travel. Hopefully the family was able to visit family sites and pay homage at relevant cemeteries. I hope to join them in future years and reconnect the distant branches of the family tree. This family connection totally explains the "pull" to P.EI. and Canada that has always been quite strong for me.

But I don't need a reunion, or need to visit a cemetery to remember my ancestors - especially my great-something paternal aunt, the original "Auntie Nettie." I can't forget her. We share a name after all.

I always think about her when I have to explain my name, but it wasn't until recently that I tried to find her final resting place so I could properly pay my respects. Poor kid; she doesn't seem to have a headstone.

Rivertrip 2010

middle of Utah

middle of a cemetery

middle of a search for "myself"

 Where are you little one? Are you here? Or were you here?

I knew that she had died young. The frontier life wasn't easy, and childhood life expectancy was short due to illnesses, but until my father was told about Cousin Frank's book and I found "myself" in the index, we didn't know how tragic her death was.

THE ORIGINAL

6/19/1874-4/23/1878

~daughter of Elijah Hiett M. 1832-1925 {son of John Ellison M. 1801-1875 and Sarah Elizabeth B.M. 1811-1894} and Helen Alcy T. 1839-1915

Elijah Hiett M******: A Pioneer Legend by Frank L. M****** [aka Cousin Frank]

Page 147

Elijah set about building a family home in East Lao, in the County of Piute [Utah]--the county subsequently becoming Wayne County in 1891. However, three weeks after moving into their new home, they were saddened by the death of their young daughter, THE ORIGINAL who, at the age of three, accidentally drank some concentrated lye which was in common use within the pioneer homes. It would have easily been mistaken for other liquids. Now, at the age of four years old, she became the first death in East Loa in April of 1878. Knowing that she was near death she requested to be buried alongside her grandfather and grandmother in Cottonwood, Utah – which was the place of her birth. Keeping the promise made to her, Elijah and Helen made the 200 mile, 11 day journey, to the Salt Lake Valley to place her alongside her grandparents, John [Ellison] and Sarah ... (emphasis my own.)

Can you even imagine? If I understand this correctly, she didn't die immediately, but lingered long enough to have a birthday and make requests to be reunited with her grandparents in her childood "hometown." What a horrible way to way to go. At three or four, she should have been running around the yard, helping with the prairie chores -- probably gathering eggs, feeding the chickens, gathering wood, and water from the stream. She would have been bossed by her older siblings, and in turn played with her baby brother.

Now that I have these clues, I plan to go back to find her plot. More importantly, she deserves a marker. I plan to write to the sexton to see if it's possible for her to eventually have some company. A little urn doesn't take up a lot of room, right? - Even in a plot with a child's coffin? If I'm getting a stone engraved, why not getting it engraved for two?  Centuries apart, we are both:

Daughter, Sister, Aunt 

1874-1878
daughter of Elijah Hiett and Sarah Elizabeth

1972-         

daughter of LeRoy C. "Max" and Mary 

Happy Auntie's Day Little One.

Thanks for the name

(even if no one can pronounce it correctly.)

Vacation Days with Drew: Hiking Temple Quarry

What happens when a Mountain Goat and Mountain Lion take a Scaredy Cat hiking? Well ... something like this.

Grumpa Max (the Mountain Lion) and Drew (the Mountain Goat) apparently take a lot of hikes throughout southern Utah, which is wonderful for them both. I was fortunate? lucky? coerced? into going with them on one of their trips while I visiting -- to a trail called Temple Quarry. I was told it was a relatively easy hike, on not too high a mountain (seriously, it's called the BLACK HILL -- so, not even considered a "mountain" around those parts), with some lovely scenery. I thought things would be fine. The day was beautiful, the weather perfect (light layers, which were shed in the noon-time sun), and the altitude not too bad.

Everything looks to start off well, and then "peace" gets throttled by "wisdom."

What they didn't tell me, and what I discovered for myself, was once you get away from the parking lot, and go around the side of the butte, that the trail narrowed in some spots, with a drastic drop-off. I think both my father and I had forgotten my issues with depth perception, heights, and physical exertion. (It's been a long time since he had to teach me to parallel parking, and he hasn't been with me in NYC for my freakouts in super high skyscrapers.) Umm. Let's just say for much of the hike, I was really REALLY quiet, focused on my feet, and hugging the side of the mountain like you would not believe. I was really trying not to embarrass myself. How ridiculous, right? Shamed by a kid and my father? I'm better on ground level, with the sheer faces of buildings hemming me in than following a hiking track. Then there were the families with small babies, that were being carried like footballs, and the geriatric solo hikers that totally lapped us. (For some reason I was MUCH better on my way back. Giving myself a unprofessional, non-medical diagnosis -- I don't like the drop-off on my left side -- proving once again that my right side, [hand, leg, eye] is my stronger one.)

Once we got to a point where the trail opened up and there was more room between it and the cliff-face, I felt like I could focus more on my surroundings. Such an area of contrasts: red Utah sand, black lava rock from the prehistoric eruptions in the area, desert flora, Drew, Grumpa, etc. Even in the gigantic boulders, you could see the difference in the types of lava flows. If you looked carefully you could see the remains of lava bubbles that exploded when they cooled, or hollows that occurred over the passage of time, where water eroded a rock into a natural basin or throne.

Bringing up the rear again, as we send the most vulnerable out to scout. Survival instinct? Maybe. Impatient goat? Definitely.

Now, I grew up in New England, so when I think quarry, I have visions of the granite quarries in the "mountains" of Vermont - dug/blasted into the sides of and/or into the bowels of the earth. I obviously didn't read the sign when we set out, as I was trying to fix my camera and not freak out and/or fall down. As we kept going around the curves, I kept waiting to see some "dig site." Once we got closer to the "main site," Grumpa started to point out the evidence of the pioneer past; the drill bites into large stones just laying where they were put by nature, or left by man; the clearings where the canteen might have been; the barbed wire fencing remnants; historical graffiti; and other evidence of pioneer fortitude.

That trail that was freaking me out? Used to be traversed regularly, by men, women, children, and mule teams, carting boulders off the hill, and then down to the valley floor. All in the southern Utah desert heat over 140 years ago. All those drill bite? Done manually. All those black rocks? Easily a couple 100 lbs to a ton or more each. That trail? Currently wider in places that it was originally.

Some things you leave alone, as a testament to the power of Mother Nature and the fortitude of man.

Here's some perspective: Can you see the intrepid mountain rock scramblers in the field of stone on the left?
Beyond the impatient goat, off in the mid-distance from his head, nestled down in the valley, is the settlement where the stone from the quarry ended up as the foundation of the most sacred building in town.

There got to be a theme to this vacation - stepping out of my comfort zone. Not only did I get out of the Apple, the Attic, and the rut I was in at work, I ended up doing a lot of things that made me initially uncomfortable. You have to try at least - or you miss things and experiences that broaden your perspective and let you spend important and concentrated periods of time with two of the most important men in your life.

I'm still a Scaredy Cat, but I'll follow the Goat and Lion all over the place. And I have. And I did -- later that week.

Happy Belated Pioneer Day!

Grumpa Max and Grandmary c. late 1990s

aka the year we dropped J off at the MTC

As mentioned last year, July 24th is Pioneer Day -- a uniquely Mormon holiday which honors those Mormon pioneers who trekked across the United States into what became the state of Utah. Many of those pioneers travelled in covered wagons, like the one pictured above.

Our pioneer story is a little different, though both sides of the family come from pioneering stock. Grandmary's ancestors settled the South, and were among the first converts in North Carolina. Their numbers swelled and generations later the faith is still quite strong. Grumpa Max's relatives immigrated to the West from England where they were probably converted, via Prince Edward Island and headed southwest to Utah via the Canadian Plains. I'm sure covered wagons and other modes of transport were used as his ancestors travelled Westward.

Just by converting these ancestors were pioneers in the truest sense of the definition: "one who is first or among the earliest in any field of inquiry, enterprise, or progress." Whether they travelled to Utah to join the larger body of Saints or they stayed in their communities to lead by example or to presevere in the face of prejudice and opposition, I honored to be their descendant and am proud of my pioneer heritage.

Retroblog July 23, 1983

Today is Sat., July 23, 1983 Time 2:40 P.M.

Last night I went to the Church Poineer Day celebrations. There was a bonfire marshmallows were toasted (yuk) and much more.

Pioneer Day is a uniquely Mormon cultural event, celebrated on July 24 to commemorate the day when most of the pioneers arrived in Utah. Usually prairie costumes are made and worn; the girls wear long skirts and bonnets and the boys basically get to dress up as cowboys. Replicas of covered wagons or hand carts are dragged around church parking lots or rec rooms, while hymns or children's songs are sung. In Utah, it is a state holiday and there are big parades.

With the global expansion of the LDS Church, you've got to picture how unique it must be to see international members trying to recreate American Western pioneer garb. The definition of "pioneer" is being expanded to include any new member or convert in international areas, as they are pioneering a new religion in their region. Rather than having all the converts move to the intermountain West, like they did in the 1890s, people are encouraged to act as emissaries in their own region. Considering that more Mormons now living outside the U.S. than in, I'd say the pioneering spirit is alive and well.

The move toward global and ethnic diversity is exciting. It is also very reassuring to know that members could go to a meeting almost anywhere in the world and the service structure, leadership guidelines, hymns, scripture, and Spirit should be the same. Member and non-member visitors are always welcome. Now, that's not to say that Mormons don't come with their own human vagaries, cultural conditionings, and some clickyness, or that there aren't more than a few wackadoodles in every congregation. Usually you can be expected to be greeted with a nod and/or handshake. There's no escaping if you are shy and want to slink into the back row. You will be greeted. If you're female and you walk in and you aren't wearing a dress or skirt you might get more than a few odd looks. (Sunday dress rules still apply -- OLD SCHOOL style! Seriously!) For the most part, though, if you are travelling around, you should feel welcome to drop on in.

For more details on Mormon services, go here.