A Profound Teacher and Influence In My Life...

Robert C. Crawford
10/19/11 - 12/14/94

There are only a handful of people in my life who have influenced my thought processes, challenged my determination to make something of myself, contributed to the shaping of my character, and who taught me how to think.  One of those was my high school math teacher, Mr. Robert C. Crawford, or "Uncle Fudd," as he liked us to call him.

To many he could be intimidating.  But, not to me.  He would challenge them in class, in front of everybody, to answer a stated math problem before he snapped his fingers.  I found him to be someone whom I wanted to emulate and would meet his challenges head on.  He taught me the art of adding a column of numbers quickly, never questioning my results, and keeping the information in my head.  He quoted often, "If it doesn't kill you, it can't hurt you."

Mr. Crawford called on me a lot, and one afternoon, after class, he called me to his desk.  "Florene," he said, "do you know why I 'pick' on you in class?  It is because you have a very high IQ and I want you to rise up to meet it.  I know you can do the work, and so I challenge you."  I have never forgotten that.  I knew there was a reason why I liked and respected this teacher.  He did the homework on each and every student in his classes.  He knew where you were born.  He knew who our parents were.  And he knew our IQ.

From that day forward, Mr. Crawford would call on me using a pet name he had coined, like: "Cedar City" (the city where I was born), or "Pickle Bill's" (the name of my dad's restaurant).  That always brought a smile to my face.  Only he and I knew the meaning!  I found out that he loved the big dill pickles from Pickle Bill's...and that he ate there often.  So, whenever I thought about it, I would bring him one!  He loved that.

Throughout my life, whenever I am faced with another challenge, I remember Mr. Crawford and his respect and confidence in me, and I say to myself, 'you can to this!  Mr. Crawford said you could!'.  He was good to keep up with my life, mostly because I sent Christmas Cards every year to he and his wife, Natalie.  I will never forget the phone call that I received in June of 1989, when my dad was killed.  It was Mr. Crawford on the line.  He comforted me and told me how sorry he was to hear the news.  He and my dad were friends in Santa Monica and he had a great deal of respect for him.  And then, a few years later, I learned that Mr. Crawford lost his battle with Cancer on December 14, 1994.  I had never lost track of him, and when I received the news, I sent his wife a condolence card.  Natalie and I still keep in touch.  In fact, I last saw her at my class reunion 2 years ago and we hugged and shared our stories of what was going on in our lives.  It was a good reunion, with many tears shed.

The biggest influence in my life is my Savior.  Venture to say, He is the most influential person I have ever invited into my life...however, it took me longer to find Him than it did to find Mr. Crawford.

I was converted to the Gospel of Jesus Christ as a teen-ager, but my life's journey took many turns and detours getting me to where I am today.  I was truly converted to Jesus Christ, as my Savior, and the fact that He has Atoned for my sins over and over again.  He rescued me from near self-destruction in 1975.  And when I opened that door that He had been knocking on for decades, my entire life took a new turn.

Once on the path of repentance, throwing away the old "me" and taking up the new "me," I was able to study the scriptures, where I found my Savior with new vigor, enthusiasm, and understanding.  Getting to know my Savior has been the greatest gift I could have ever have given myself.  I know that He is there for me...all I have to do is ask!  I know He outlined a perfect plan in the scriptures...all I have to do is read (and ponder and study)!  I know that He knows my life from beginning to end...all I have to do is trust!  And, when all is said and done, when I come to the end of my journey, I know that my Savior will be there to meet me...all I have to do is wait!

Yes, we are touched by special people in our lives.  And some of them remain with us forever.  Thank you, Mr. Crawford for all that you taught me.  Thank you for showing a shy high-schooler that there are people out there who see your worth.  And thanks be to my Savior for the Atonement.  Thanks for the scriptures that testify of you.  And thank you for getting me through the many difficult seasons of my life.

My Lord and Savior

                                     

Lois Lorraine Mickelson Miller...You Will Be Missed!

I first met Lorraine when Dean and I, with little Billy in tow (barely 2-years-old), came to Oregon on a vacation.  It was late June or early July, 1986.  Lorraine is Dean's Dad's 1st Cousin.  They were raised close together in Minnesota.  They were very close cousins.  Dad would refer to Lorraine as his "kissing cousin!"  I laugh a lot with Bill Mickelson.

Lorraine met us at the airport and became our tour guide and chauffeur.   I had never been to Oregon, so I was taking it all in.  She drove us up the beautiful, wide Columbia River in her new Mercedes Benz Sedan.  Our first stop was the Dam, where we watched the salmon swimming up river and through the "ladders" to get to the other side of the dam and to their spawning place.  I saw my very first sturgeon--a great fish they had in a special pool at the dam.  It was huge!  It was the size of a small dolphin!

She drove us to Multnomah Falls, where I saw the painting that my Mom and Dad had given me for my home in California in 1970 come to life.  I was enthralled with its beauty--especially learning that it was really a place in Oregon.

She took us to lunch at a wonderful restaurant (whose name has escaped me) situated in the trees.  I think it was an old logging camp at one time.  NOTE:  Going out to eat was one of Lorraine's favorite things to do.  Every visit included a wonderful lunch somewhere.  The Truffle House, Heidi's, Elmer's or The Olive Garden were some of her favorites.

For the 4th of July, we drove to a lake (not sure where it was...it was dark and I did not know the area) to watch the fireworks over the water.  It was a wonderful display and even little Billy oo'd and ah'd with every new explosion.

From that first meeting with Lorraine, I knew I loved Oregon--and I knew Lorraine was a special person.  As the years unfolded, I grew to love her as family, friend, a sister who loved the Lord as much as I do, and as a woman I looked up to for her candor, her intelligence, her love for her husband, whom she served 'till the day he died, and her special bond with her two nephews, Dean (my husband) and David (his brother).  Those boys were like the sons she was never blessed with.

I also watched her bond with her three grand nephews, Billy and Eliot (our sons) and Zachary (David's son).  She was an educator and never missed an opportunity to teach any and all of those boys in her life.  Books were her favorite gift to them at Christmas or a birthday.  NOTE:  David has two other children: April and Eric, but I was never privileged to see their relationship with Lorraine.  They were older and lived far, far away.

Lorraine with Dean Billy and Eliot

Lorraine and Eliot

Lorraine with Zachary and Miriam

I loved Lorraine.  We were always welcomed guests in her home. We lovingly called her home "Lorraine's Inn."  She would beam whenever we came to visit.  She loved to share her latest achievement with genealogy--and we shall forever be grateful to her for the many hours of work she put into that work so we could treasure the family ties we have.

She loved her garden and loved to show it off.  I was always so amazed at the beauty she created in her yard.  Of course, Dean's favorite part of her garden were the flourishing blueberry bushes.  We picked them, froze them and enjoyed them through the winter.  That became an annual event for us.  Lorraine always made us a delicious blueberry compote on berry picking visits, and then she served it hot over toast,.  Yummy!

Lorraine with Lori in her garden

Dean and Lori in Lorraine's Garden

The past year has been a hard one for the Mickelson family, as we watched her health fail to the point that she became bedridden in the Gresham Care Facility.  We visited as often as we were able--but looking back, it wasn't nearly often enough.

Billy and Ingrid, hugging Lorraine

Lorraine with Eliot
Look at that smile on her face!

Lorraine with Dean, Billy and Eliot

Lorraine with Lori

Dean with Lorraine

We will forever miss you, Lorraine.  You are forever in our hearts and our cherished memories.  We look forward to the day when we will all be together again in God's Kingdom.  We will miss your "Inn," your delicious blueberry's on toast, your garden, the warmth of your hearth, and most of all, we will miss your warm smile that greeted us with every visit.  Lorraine left this earthly sphere on Saturday, September 6, 2014...just days before her 88th birthday.

Nine-Eleven Plus Thirteen...

September 11, 2001

Thirteen years have come and gone since that infamous day in September, 2001, when our country was rocked by a terrible terrorist attack like none before it.  Thirteen years have come and gone--and many have forgotten how vulnerable we are.  Thirteen years have come and gone and the world is on fire and crumbling before our very eyes, just like the images of those burning buildings in New York City burned and crumbled.

Many have forgotten that day.  Some weren't even alive when it happened.  Some don't even care.  I wrote on that occasion about how it made me feel as an American to have my "innocence" taken away in the blink of an eye!  Gone are those days of comfort in the knowledge that we live in a land that has been free for over 200 years.  Our freedoms were fought for fiercely on the battle fields of our own country and on the battle fields in foreign lands.  We used to cherish those freedoms, while at the same time, we took them for granted.  Now, we fight in a different way, to hold on to those same freedoms for which our forefathers laid down their lives to preserve.

There is a new memorial in New York City, where the footprint of those buildings once stood.  It is a beautiful fountain, with a never ending waterfall depicting the never ending memories of those who lost their lives in those towers and those who gave their lives in valiant rescue efforts.  It is a fitting memorial.  There is also a new tower--a single tower--in New York City.  It rises above the area where rubble rested only just a few short years ago.  It won't be the same, but it is a monument, of sorts, to the memory of that terrible day in September, 2001.

May God continue to bless America and the families of those who lost their lives on that day.  I pray that somehow the memory of that day will spark anew a reverence for this great land and that we can move forward with a determination to never again allow another September 11th to happen--not on these shores!

One Hundred Years, Today...

MY DAD

James Harvey Davenport was born on this day 100 years ago...September 5, 1914.  Had he lived to see this day, we would have referred to him as a Centenarian.  When I look at these pictures of my dad, I am reminded of the man I grew to love...more than life itself, because I am his daughter, and because he was my friend.  He was a happy young man, who grew to adulthood in a little town in southern Utah, called Parowan.  His great grandfather, Thomas Davenport, came to the little town and helped it grow in the mid 1800's.  Thomas was a potter and shared his talents with the community.  Thomas was also a farmer, as was his son John and John's son, John Alvin (dad's father...my grandfather).

Dad grew up working hard on the farm...tending the animals, hoeing the corn fields, and gathering in the crops.  He loved music and he loved to dance.  It was the latter that won my mother's heart in Cedar City, Utah.  That is where they met and fell in love.  Dad was the best husband and father...ever!  I can say that without hesitation, because he somehow was able to put up with me and my temper tantrums, my growing pains, my spoiled attitudes as a teenager, and my tears as I found my way through the difficult life I made for myself.  He was always there to give me advice, comfort me, and teach me some of life's most valuable lessons.  And the love of his life, my mother, was the best thing that ever happened to him.  Oh, how he loved her!

Dad served in the Santa Monica 1st Ward as Ward Clerk.  He also spent some time in the Young Men's organization as an adviser.  While owning a restaurant, called Pickle Bill's, he served as the President of the Santa Monica Bay Area Restaurant Association.  He served well, and through his efforts, brought the restaurant industry to new levels, with a campaign to get folks out of their homes at least once a week, and support their local restaurant businesses.  It was a successful campaign.

Dad was a businessman, a father, a hunter, a fisherman, a brother and a son.  But, most importantly, he was a loving husband to my beautiful mother, Florence, for 55 years.  If I had had my way, I would have kept him here for another 26 years, at least.  His untimely death in June of 1989, at the age of 74, came as a shock to everyone he knew.

I miss you, daddy...and I always will.  I look forward to seeing you again when it is my turn to leave this frail existence and come and dwell with you and our Savior, Jesus Christ, in our eternal home for all eternity..

All Together In Heaven...

The Henderson's
From L to R:  Mabel, Doris, Betty, Ruth, George, Gerald and Joyce
Family Reunion, abt 1960

On Saturday, August 30, 2014, the last of the Henderson children born to Maggie and George Henderson of Burley, Idaho, left mother earth to join her siblings (Mabel, Doris, Ruth, George, Gerald, and Joyce) in their eternal home on high.  Betty Henderson Miller was 92 years young.

All of the husbands (Bill, Pat, Loyd, Steve and Theron) have also passed on to a higher reward.  That leaves only VaLoy (George's widow) and myself (Gerald's widow) to fill whatever life we have left on this earth with memories.

The Henderson family is an amazing family.  Maggie and George struggled in hard times.  George worked as a janitor in the local School District, and Maggie worked hard as the mother of 8 children.  But, somehow they managed to raise all of their children to be responsible, honest, hard-working citizens of their little community.  One other daughter, Berniece, passed away as a young mother from complications after heart surgery.  She left behind a young daughter and a loving husband.  I met them once, but have since lost track of them.

Mabel with George and VaLoy

Mabel was the oldest, and when I met her in 1957, she was pregnant with her last son.  She was a firecracker of a lady.  She always spoke her mind and let you know where you stood.  I guess I made a good impression on her, because she liked me.  She was the first to become a widow...but not the first to leave us.  It was Gerry who had that honor.

Doris and Pat

Ruth and Loyd

Doris and Pat were busy business owners in Burley, Idaho; and they were the parents of a lovely family.  They were gracious and always welcoming to me whenever I visited.  Ruth and Loyd owned a chicken hatchery in Paul, Idaho.  It was always fun to visit the farm.  Our children loved to see the little chicks and even got to take a couple home with them on one visit.

George was Gerry's only brother (picture above with Mabel) and we liked to visit him a lot.  We visited he and VaLoy in California, Washington, and Alabama.  George was a great brother-in-law.

Joyce and Steve

Joyce and Steve lived in Burley, too, and worked hard all of their lives.  Joyce was the youngest who was loved a great deal by her big brother.

Betty and Theron

Betty was the one who held the family together.  I never saw her without a smile on her face.  She and Theron spent most of their lives in Indio, California.  I think Betty was the one we visited most often, because they lived the closest.  We did love to get together for family reunions in Idaho, though.  It was always great fun to get the whole family together in one place!

Heart disease and Cancer were the big killers in the Henderson family.  Gerry's brother, George and Gerry, too, died from Heart disease, as did Berniece before them.  Doris, Ruth and Joyce died from Cancer.  Betty and Mabel were the only ones who seemed to enjoy longevity.  They just kept on ticking until their bodies just wore out.

I shall forever be grateful for this amazing family that came into my life in 1957.  I pray that one day, when the Good Lord calls me home, that I will be able to join with them all for that great reunion on high.  God bless you, Betty for being a part of my life and giving me a boatload of memories to reflect on from time to time.  I love you and we will miss you.

L to R:  Ruth, Doris, Mabel, George, Joyce and Betty
All the Henderson's together, 1981, Gerry's funeral

We Are Living In Troubled Times...

Children of the World

In view of all that is taking place all around the world, I have found myself saying more and more prayers for our leaders, for the leaders of other countries, for homes and families, and for humanity as a whole.  But, most especially, I am praying for the children.

We are living in the most troubling times I have ever experienced in my whole life's history.  I can't remember another time when there was so much hatred permeating everywhere in the world.  It is like a thick, dark, suffocating cloak that is covering everything in its path.  Perhaps my parents could relate these times to the world they lived in during the Great Depression and World War II.  I can't answer for them...I was much too young to even relate to their fears.  But, I do know this...their children and their children's safety were uppermost in their minds.

Angel Child

Man has always been in the middle of the fight between good and evil.  It is the continuation of the war in heaven which ended with the expulsion of Lucifer from the kingdom of God to "reign with blood and terror" on the earth, where he would be ruler.  Fortunately, for mankind, God's plan has the weapons to fight this evil.  He sent His son, Jesus Christ, to free mankind from their evil choices.  He also gave us the agency of choosing for ourselves.

Son of God

Many of God's children have chosen evil, but more of them have chosen good.  And good will win in the end.  Meanwhile, we must be diligent in helping to relieve suffering, comfort when there are opportunities to comfort, feed those who are hungry, clothe those who are naked, give them water when they thirst, and bind their wounds when they cannot do so for themselves.  This is what Christ has taught us, and this is what is going to save us in the end.

A Little Child Refugee

I am a fan of Glenn Beck.  Many of my friends and family would not agree with me, but God has given me a gift to be able to discern truth, and Mr. Beck speaks truth to my heart.  Whether you agree or not, doesn't matter...I still love you.  Glenn is a man of great heart and acts on his promptings to do good.  He recently made a trip with his crew to the border and witnessed for himself the treatment of the children there.  It broke his heart, and it broke my heart as I watched the footage.  It reminded me of a song written by Kurt Bestor back in the '90's called, "Prayer of the Children."  Kurt wrote this song when he was returning from his mission where he witnessed war-torn Europe's crying children and it broke his heart.  Here are some of the words of this song which melt my heart every time I hear them:

Praying Child

          "Can you hear...the prayers of the children...on bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room?
          "Empty eyes...with no more tears to cry, turning heavenward...toward the light.
          "Cryin' 'Jesus help me to see the mornin' light...of one more day.'
          "But if I should die before I wake, I pray my soul to take.

          "Can you feel...the hearts of the children...aching for home, for something of their very own.
          "Reaching hands...with nothing to hold on to, but hope for a better day, a better day.
          "Cryin' 'Jesus help me to feel the love again...in my own land.'
          "But if unknown roads lead away from home, give me loving arms, 'way from harm. ..."

          "...Can you hear,..the voice of the children...softly pleading...for silence in their shattered world?
          "Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate, blood of the innocent...on their hands.
          "Cryin' 'Jesus help me to feel the sun again upon my face?'
          "For when darkness clears, I know you're near, bringing peace again. ..."

          "Can you hear...the prayers of the children?"
               (If you are not familiar with this song, go online and listen for yourself.  It will touch your heart, too.)

Crying Out For Love

We pray for comfort for those precious children all over the world...whether they are the children of the enemy or children of our own.  Whether they are children who have been used as human shields while their soldiers are fighting with their evil an "enemy" who is full of good.  Whether they are children who are being exploited by our neighbors to the south to be used for their evil gains to over-run our country and confuse the people.  They are all children, after all, and they deserve answers to their prayers.

***All of the above images were downloaded from "50 Touching Photos Showing The Children of the World."  I found this sight while researching photos to use in this writing.

God bless our efforts to understand these troubled times, and God bless the Children of the World.

Sandcastles In The Sand...

First Day of Summer at the Beach

Ah, the first day of summer!  This is the day we look forward to all year.  I am a "Summer" girl, so when the sun is shining (finally) I want to be out in it.  We didn't plan this day at all...what we came up with was kind of a last minute decision.  But Dean raised the question, "When is the Sandcastle Contest in Cannon Beach?"  And so, I got online and looked it up.  Sure enough, there it was!  Today!  So, I packed some snacks, we loaded the car and headed north following Highway 101 along the coast.  The drive up, by itself, is worth getting out of the house for.

We came here another time, about 7 years or so ago, and brought Dean's parents and his cousin Lorraine.  It was a beautiful day then, too...a day when all of us had better health.  This year, however, it seemed like the crowds had increased by a factor of 10!  We had a hard time finding a place to park, then we had a hard time getting close enough to the "carving" to see anything.

We wandered about for nearly an hour, finally zeroing in on our favorites.  We found it great fun to watch their progress.

When we came upon the above sculpture, we stopped short, and had to chuckle!  "Couch Potatoes!"  That one was a hoot.  We both agreed that they did a great job on the couch.  Someone had a great imagination!

Then we stood and watched this sculpture's progress for quite some time, trying to figure out what this was all about.  As we watched, the Volkswagen's started to appear.  It was hilarious!  I can't remember the title, but I just titled it "In and Out!"  Someone commented that it was a scene from some movie, but I guess I must have missed that one.

 It is amazing to watch the detail of each sand sculpture unfold and the sand "artists" work their talents.  They have such amazing concentration and the end result is absolutely amazing.  The concentration that each participant expresses with their work is awe inspiring.









Even when sculpting out a sign, every detail is precise.  Each group has a plan, and every member of the group has their assignment.  Here we watched as the artist did the lettering on the title sign.



Have you ever seen a sandcastle that looked like a rocket ship?  We found this one quite interesting!  This particular sculpture ended up in a heap of sand when the team was just about finished.  The entire crowd moaned.  But, you have to give them credit, they took one of the medals for their efforts.

The one sculpture we zeroed in on was the sculpture created by a Christian group.  We watched and watched, as first the lion and then the lamb emerged.  The first sculpture we noticed was a huge cross that was set off to the side and in front.  To the left of the cross was a giant book...the Bible...with the verse "Isaias ll:7" printed on the right side.  The group creating this sculpture were all Hispanic, so that is how they spell Isaiah.  (Clever!)  

We were immersed in this sculpture.  Every member had their assigned task, from shaping the lion and the lamb to sculpting out the details of his mane, to forming the huge blocks that would become the cross, the book and, lastly, the plaque that bore the title.

"One Day," as the scripture says, "The lion shall lie down with the lamb."  I loved it!  Dean loved it!  The crowd that was as spell-bound with this sculpture as we were, loved it.  But, I guess the judges didn't love it so much.  They didn't even get an honorable mention.  Our guess is that it was too controversial of a subject for the contest.  How sad!  They worked hard and did an excellent job.  If I had a ribbon to give them, it would be a huge first place.

On to the Master's Sculptures!  There were six in this category, and they were competing for the 1st Place Prize of $1200.  They were all amazing, and we could tell they worked very hard to perfect their sculpture and try and win the prize.  But, prize or not, they were there to display their artistic abilities and every one of them was having a great time.

And the winner is...

This guy was the leader and central figure in the Chinese Zodiac sculpture, the First Prize winner.  All of the animals were there, surrounding him:  The pig, the rat, the hare, the horse, the goat, the snake, etc.  It really was quite amazing and we liked this one a lot.

With the day coming to an end, the prizes all handed out, and the tide quickly sneaking up on the beach, all of the crew members got busy tearing down their boundaries, clearing out all of their tools, and then the ocean would be allowed to reclaim its sandy shore and the sculptures would return to their birthplace, mingled with the rest of the grains of sand on the beach.  It is an evolution of art.  All of this work testifies that nothing is permanent.  It is sad in a way, but the joy and pleasure these artists give to the crowds each year somehow makes it all worth while.  Cannon Beach has been hosting this event for 50 years; I suppose they will continue for perhaps another 50!