First Responders

Today my 16-year-old is in Wyoming, near Martin’s Cove, pulling a handcart over dirt trails and across streams. As my wife and I helped him prep for the experience, I learned that my grandma’s grandfather, Robert Wilson, was one of the rescuers of the Willie-Martin handcart companies back in 1856. Pretty cool. (Thanks, Mom, for typing up the details and sending it to me and the tall boy.)

Robert Wilson was 30 years old when he crossed the plains with the Willard Richards Company. According to the journal of a fellow traveller, “On Thursd 28 Sept. 1848 . . . Robert Wilson caught a Sorrel horse white feet. 3 years old. Supposed Indians or californian horse.”

Compared to the handcart companies’ experience, my ancestor’s trip sounds downright heavenly, with “wild gooseberries, grapes, strawberries found up the hollows near the mill creek – hazle nuts growing in abundance[.] very warm day, air very warm eve.”

Eight years later, on Oct. 7, 1856, just days after Brigham Young made the announcement in conference that able-bodied men should go back and rescue the suffering handcart-bearing Saints caught in the early snowstorms, Robert Wilson (age 37) and another relative, Henry Woolley (age 35), joined the rescue party. They  travelled from Salt Lake City to Martin’s Cove, Wyoming, where the handcart companies were running out of food . . . freezing . . . and dying.

To get right to the point, here is an excerpt from Robert Wilson’s brother-in-law’s (William Blood’s) life sketch.

“The summer of 1856 was very dry and grasshoppers destroyed most of our crops. Many of the Saints started from the Missouri River to cross the plains with handcarts. There were men, woman and children in the company that left there late in the season. They were caught in a severe snowstorm and a call was made for men with horse teams to go and bring them in. They were out about two hundred miles in deep snow and severe weather. There was a large company of men with teams who answered the call. Father and my brother-in-law, Robert Wilson, were among the number. When they had traveled about one hundred miles, the snow had fallen so deep that it was almost impossible for teams to get through it. Not knowing how far away the handcart company was , many of the men became frightened lest they should not be able to return to their homes in the valleys , and as I have been told, the company turned their horses and started back. Father said, “I started to meet those handcarts and I will go and meet them or die trying.” On hearing these words, Robert Wilson said, “Henry, if you go on I will go on with you”. So these two started on alone and every other man in the company started back to the valley. They soon met some other teams coming from Salt Lake City with more provisions and horse feed. Also, they had word from President Young that they must go and meet the handcart company and bring them in.

Father and Robert Wilson met the struggling Saints several days before those who turned back could retrace their steps. They found the poor handcart company without food, some dead, and others badly frozen. They gave them what relief they could, then traveled on to the very last of the companies and moved them up to the main body. They loaded those fartherest behind into their wagons, and leaving the old handcarts, they came towards the valleys. They made a big camp by clearing the snow off and building big fires. The next morning the two teams returned and brought more into the camp and so on, until all the people had been brought into the camp. In this way they continued to work until they were met by those who had turned back. Here all the people were placed in wagons and they traveled as rapidly as possible to their homes in the valley. Some of those who were severely frozen lost their limbs and some died from hardships of the journey. It was a very trying time but the Lord blessed the brethren and enabled them to meet the belated immigrants and bring them and bring them into Salt Lake City.”

First on the scene. Sacrificing to help those in need. I feel blessed to have some of that blood running through me.

(If you have a pioneer ancestor who crossed the plains, you can find out their company and read trail excerpts on this cool site I used. http://www.lds.org/churchhistory/library/pioneercompanysearch/1,15773,3966-1,00.html) Here’s another great bit of writing I encountered as I researched this: http://www.lds.org/churchhistory/library/source/1,18016,4976-6178,00.html. The Ann driving the single team of oxen (at age 12) married Robert Wilson four years later in Salt Lake City.

The Month I Would Be King

My old friend, the empress of design, traveled from New York City to lowly Provo to visit her fam. And she slummed it a little yesterday, stopping by to see us and tour our remodel in progress. Her appearance here is the fodder from which this blog is formed. (Blog form fodder? Say that three times fast.)

Given a choice of king or court jester, I would definitely choose both. Here’s proof. More than a decade ago, I was working for the university’s TV and radio stations as the editor of publications. I built my little digital publishing kingdom as best I could but my ambitions surpassed my stewardship.

Once upon a time, a designer named Jeff and I zoomed way in on a photo (using Photoshop), and added a smiley face to the dot on a man’s tie. When we zoomed back out, you could not see the smiley, only the dot. So off it went to the press, a tiny secret, not visible to the naked eye. What fun we had, and it wasn’t even Easter.

A few years and another student designer later, Jen and I were working on the next month’s program guide. You know how sometimes something starts out as a joke and then  you think, hey it’d be funny if we really ----> insert thing you should not do here <---- . . . ?” Well, we were revising the staff box and I made myself king and she made herself empress. Then we passed the proofs along to our bosses to see if they would catch us in the devious deed. It was in the issue with funny man Bill Cosby on the cover and an article on Danny Kaye, Red Skelton, a few other classic comic greats inside. So we waited to see if they caught our early April Fools joke. Ha ha.

Well, as usual, we were the only ones who actually proofread the text that month. Then on a last minute whim, I decided to let it go to press. I grinned as I checked the press proof. I chuckled as I saw the thousands of printed copies in which I had eternally usurped the throne. Of course, I was still in lower management and the day of reckoning always comes.

A few weeks later, my boss, wielding a copy of the Bill Cosby edition folded over to page 1, burst into my office, pointing at it, pointing at me, red-faced and breathy. After I failed to convince him that we sometimes take ourselves too seriously and offered to give him a better title (supreme ruler, ambassador, despot) in the March issue, I was sent down to the directors office to meet my fate. After enduring another humorless sermon, “You know, that’s a very childish thing to do . . .,” I wandered back up to my office, sat in my office, and smiled for two years.

After that I left that job and went to “a better place,” a place where my supervisors treat me like royalty, giving me support and praise and true appreciation. “Associate editor” will suffice when you work with people like that.

The king is dead. Long live the king.

Me and T

So here’s my little grandson-in-law (yeah, I know . . . read below) poking his head in and saying “‘Sup?!” this past weekend.

Here are his parents. (This picture is not from the weekend but it captures their essence perfectly. They are not particularly big. But they compensate by being hugely silly.)

Here is their daughter, whipping up some banana bread with her great aunt.

We had a really fun Memorial Day weekend. My niece and her fam came to visit. She has pretty much summed it up on her blog so you can just read that and get the gist. Anyway, my pal Tenzin and I had a blast at the farmer’s market and on the basketball court (I lowered the hoop and helped him dunk a number of times) and at the duck park and at the pool. I guess I’m his great uncle but that really doesn’t begin to cover it, so I tried “super uncle” but that just sounded over the top. I think I’ve settled on “Outlaw Grandpa” since I am his grandma’s brother. That seems to best define the relationship because I've been missing the little dude and his fam ever since they left. As they walked out to their car, Lili yelled, “Hey! Why are you following us?” Truthfully? I was sad to see them leave.

Finally, of course, I took this great picture of us hamming it up. (Julie always try to take the credit for the really good pictures but it’s always all me. Ha ha ha.)