Roots

Debbie and I recently drove the Banner Wyoming to honor my Uncle Ralph and Aunt Nellie for being married for 70 years. The east side of the Big Horn Mountains is where my roots are firmly buried. My father was born in Banner, Wy, my mother born in Oshoto, Wy (by Sundance and Devils Tower) When I arrived in 1952 I was born in Buffalo, Wy where my father had found employment with the Federal Land Bank. Two weeks ago I drove through Buffalo to look at favorite places and familiar sites. The Masonic Temple which was where my dad had his office was being torn down. It saddened me because one more pillar of my youth is gone. The high school where I watched my brother and sisters play basketball, drama and band and where I studied, played in the band, ran track and played basketball has been torn down. The land that my parents owned ( a mere ten acres) now has three homes other than the one I grew up in. The garden spot where I anxiously watched as dad plowed in the spring so we could plant all the vegetables that would sustain us through the year is covered by a shed.

Today I sit in our new home in Lehi, UT having spent 32 years, 7 months and 10 days not living in Utah. I think now that Debbie and I can really put down roots. We've had neighbors offer to help, bring fresh baked banana bread or just drop in to introduce themselves. I'm excited to move into this phase of our life where we can visit our children and they can visit us and it only takes 10 minutes to get from one house to another.

Many years ago, a musical called "Paint Your Wagon" had a song which I feel has been the story of my life. "Wandering Star". The question is: have I finaly found a place to live where I can feel comfortable? Can I stay employed long enough to save some monies upon my sweet wife and I can depend to serve a mission? Will I stay healthy enough to spend time with my children and grandchildren and watch them grow and progress?

I felt the tug of Newcomer roots two weeks ago when I visited with my cousins. Debbie has felt the tug of Sprague and Sessions roots when visiting Powell and Byron, Wy. Now our roots are in Utah Valley and we can visit other places, but I finally feel that we have truly found our home.