HAPPY

BIRTHDAY! 

HAPPY 30TH ON THE 30TH

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART!

Poem by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

And put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

Then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he'd call,

And slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of the house.

Speaking indifferently to him,

Who had driven out the cold

And polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love's austere and lonely offices?

Dad's parody for the talent show

BACKSTAGE

 This is us waiting for the show to begin when we had the assignment to be curtain/prompters.

Ferry Across the Mississippi River

Day to Day with Dad

 Laying sod by the new Family Search Center

 Rescuing a baby racoon that fell out of it's nest in the tree; the photos are in reverse.

Remember in your little 'Ranger set' as kids, the little racoon that lost his tail lived in a hole in the tree? Well, they really do that here!

 Giving a "prairie" ring to a young visitor at the Blacksmith shop.

Tracy Came to Visit!

I made sure to take her out to see the teams of horses that pull the wagons on the tours around Nauvoo.