Carol Wilda Rampton

March 16, 1957.  I was four years old at the time and our family (Dad, Mom, one and a half year old Richard and myself) lived in Salt Lake City while my Dad finished his Masters Degree in Civil Engineering at the University of Utah.  We were about four months away from moving to California.  On this day, Mom gave birth to a little girl in Salt Lake's Holy Cross Hospital.  Same one I was born in.  They named her Carol Wilda Rampton.  This name has always puzzled me.  I understand Wilda.....that was my Dad's grandmother's name, Wilda Cash Rampton.  But Carol....the only Carol in our family that I know of was my Mom's younger sister and I was led to believe they never got along very well.  Perhaps I'm wrong.  Little Carol was not a healthy baby when she was born, having heart and lung problems.  She lived but twelve hours and then passed away.  Before dying my Dad was able to give her and name and blessing.

A few days later she was buried in the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Salt Lake City in a family plot my Grandpa Cash had bought.  For 37 years she laid there alone until Grandpa Cash died in 1994, followed by my step-grandma Virginia, my Uncle Judd and finally my Mom in 2009.   Six or seven years ago, my son David and I made a visit to Mt. Olivet Cemetery, a beautiful place with deer and squirrels and birds roaming at will.  We found the big Rampton marker and the head stones of Grandpa Cash and Virginia.  But we could not find the headstone of Carol Wilda.  I got a stick and started poking in the ground until I finally hit something solid.  I pulled away some grass and there was the headstone covered by two inches of grass.  It had been a long time since it had seen the light of day.  We pulled out the grass and today the sunlight shines on the baby booties engraved in the polished granite.

 While Mom was still in the hospital the Patriarch from the Bonneville Stake where we lived came and gave her a blessing.  He said (and I paraphrase) Sister Rampton, I bless you that if you will be faithful in keeping all the Lord's commandments and if you will be faithful in all of the callings the Lord will give you;  if you will do these two things then I promise you that you will be able to raise this little baby in the hereafter.

That blessing was a source of strength and motivating force throughout her life, as well as my Dad's.  She held many callings in her life:  Counselor in the Primary, Cub Scout Den Mother, Relief Society Homemaking Leader both on the Stake and Ward level, Young Women's President, Ward Primary President and finally Stake Primary President.  She was faithful in each calling and blessed the lives of hundreds of our Heavenly Father's children.  In fact, she mentioned the blessing several times during the last few months of her mortal life.

I am confident that for the last three and a half years, since she died, she has been able to raise little Carol Wilda.  I don't know exactly what that entails, but I am sure she is doing a good job as she did in everything she undertook.

One final thought:  I wonder if my three grandchildren, Jude, Creed and Lizzy had a chance to know little Carol Wilda in the spirit world before coming to this earth.  I like to think they were friends there and enjoyed each other's company.  Perhaps all three had a chance to meet Mom and gain a little insight into the family into which they were being born.  Perhaps.....

Merry Christmas.

Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee

Our memory is an unpredictable gift given to us by our Creator.  Sometimes we can't remember something we heard five minutes before.  Other times we can remember something we heard fifty years earlier.  Such is the case with a song that was released in 1957 when I was five.  I remember a small record player that Mom and Dad had bought my brother Richard and I to play children's songs on.  Dad's HiFi was reserved for his jazz music.  He had a great collection of records (78s).  More than 50 years after we played that song on our small record player, I can still remember the words.  The song is "Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee" (no relation to Crocodile.) 

I know a wee squirrel who lives in an oak.

He loves a good lunch and he loves a good joke.

There's a wee bit of Scotch in his family tree.

He's Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.

He's Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.

Of chestnuts and acorns he's gathered a store.

Although he has plenty he still gathers more.

And he has them for breakfast and luncheon and tea.

Young Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.

Young Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee. 

His brothers and sisters and uncles and aunts

Quite often will gather and have a fine dance.

And they leap through the air with hilarious glee.

With Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.

With Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee. 

Once while they were dancing a hunter came by.

And all of the squirrels the hunter did spy.

And he lifted his rifle and aimed carefully

At Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.

At Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee. 

The rifle went off with a terrible blast.

But Angus MacFergus was faster than fast.

And the bullet went deep in that poor old oak tree.

But it never touched Angus MacFergus Dundee.

But it never touched Angus MacFergus Dundee. 

The hunter looked round but the squirrels were gone.

Of all of those dancers there wasn't a one.

They were all safely hid in that friendly oak tree

With Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.

With Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee. 

I often imagine that I'd like to be

A bonnie wee squirrel and live in a tree.

Pay no rent and no taxes and get my lunch free

Like Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.

Like Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee. 

Why I remember this song, I do not know.  From this same period of time in my life I remember a poem Mom had me memorize so I could recite it in Jr. Sunday School.  But, that is a story for another day. 

Today I went on the internet and did a Google search on Angus MacFergus MacTavish Dundee.  There it was, on You Tube.  The song was sung by Burl Ives.  For those of you who want to hear it, here is the link.  And, yes, I did correctly remember the words. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wO_UpAaltQc

Listen and enjoy.  I have enjoyed the song for over 50 years, at least in my memory.

Missionary Farewell of Charles C. Rampton, Jr.

On May 26, 1949 George Albert Smith, President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints signed a letter calling Charles C. Rampton, Jr. to serve a mission for the Church in the Canadian Mission.  He was to report to the Mission Home on June 20, 1949, a Monday.  At that time, Grandpa (Charles C. Rampton, Jr.), Aunt Janet and Grandma Blanche lived on 15th East in Salt Lake City and were members of the Yale Ward.  I will include some photos of the ward building taken about this time.  I have vague recollections of it from my first 5 years when we lived in Salt Lake City.  Most prominently is a stained glass window of the Savior knocking at the door.  The Yale Ward was a remarkable ward.  Its membership included Joseph F. Smith, George Albert Smith, Ezra Taft Benson, and host of other apostles and general authorities.  At the time Grandpa went on his mission, there were 37 other missionaries from the ward serving throughout the world including the sons of Ezra Taft Benson and Aavard Fairbanks (world famous sculptor whose works include the statues of Peter James and John ordaining Joseph Smith to the Melkizedek Priesthood and of John the Baptist ordaining Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery, both of which are on Temple Square in Salt Lake City.  I also had a run in with his bees, but that is a story for another day.)

Yale Ward Building on Gilmer Drive in Salt Lake City



Foyer of the Yale Ward Building looking into the chapel (see stained glass window in back above stand)

Jesus Knocking at the Door Stained Glass Window above stand of Yale Ward

Grandpa's missionary farewell, as they called them in those days, took place at 5:00 p.m. on Sunday, June 12, 1949 at the Yale Ward Chapel.  It was indeed a remarkable meeting.  Below is part of the printed program.

Missionary Farewell Program

The prelude music was played by Alexander Schreiner, one of the most famous organists in the world.  He later became the chief organist for the Tabernacle Choir.  He studied in Paris, taught at UCLA where he was also organist for the First Methodist Episcopal Church and music director for the Jewish Wilshire Blvd. Temple.  1n 1939 President Heber J. Grant asked him to work with the Tabernacle Choir which he did until 1977 when he was diagnosed with cancer.  Pretty remarkable that he would play at Grandpa's farewell. 

Alexander Schreiner

The invocation was offered by Tom Greene, one of Grandpa's best friends.  He was a remarkable man despite having a withered arm.  In 1985 he was nominated by President Ronald Reagan as a district court judge and was confirmed by the United States Senate that same year.

Tom Greene

It is interesting that the Sacrament Song was sung by the ward choir and not the congregation and ward choir.  I wonder if that was standard procedure or just happened for this meeting.

After the administration of the Sacrament there was a vocal solo by Lee Sanders.  Lee was a high school classmate of Grandma's (Lois Fae Linnebach) and had an outstanding voice.  The song he sung is not listed on the program, but Grandma and Grandpa used to talk about it.  By today's church standards, one might consider it an inappropriate song to sing in Sacrament Meeting,  "Old Man River"  from the Broadway musical Show Boat.  It's a beautiful song but probably not for Sacrament Meeting.  I wonder what the concluding speaker thought?

The next speaker was Charles R. Mabey, former governor of the State of Utah and Grandpa Cash's brother-in-law.  He was also  poet, writing an epic of the old west called The Pony Express.

Charles R. Mabey

After Alexander Shreiner played another organ solo, John Fetzer spoke.  I remember Grandpa talking about him and my recollection is that he was Grandpa's scoutmaster when he was a boy scout. 

The next two speakers were the bishop (don't know his name) and Grandpa.  On the program, Grandpa would have been the final speaker.  But such was not the case.  At the beginning of the meeting, George Albert Smith, President of the Church walked in.  And so, as was custom, he was always the concluding speaker.  I would like to have known what he talked about. What an honor to have the Prophet speak at your missionary farewell.

President George Albert Smith

So that was Grandpa's missionary farewell.  Pretty remarkable.

Spiritual Experiences and Henry Jolley

Several weeks ago the Sunday School Teacher in my ward asked us to think about a spiritual experience we had had.  I didn't get an opportunity to share one because so many people raised their hands.  But I immediately thought back to my college days and the first temple sealing I was ever invited to attend.  It was the wedding of my roommate Chuck and his bride Cindy in the Salt Lake Temple.  We were all seated in the sealing room when the sealer walked in.  I do not remember his name or what he looked like; but, I do remember most of everything he said:  "Brothers and sisters, there are angels present in this room today."  At that very moment, the spirit bore witness to my soul that what he had said was true.  I looked around but I didn't see any.  But I knew they were there.  The sealer continued by quoting from memory the first ten verses of Job chapter 1.

 1. There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil.

2.  And there were born unto him seven sons and three daughters.

3.  His substance also was seven thousand sheep, and three thousand camels, and five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she asses, and a very great household; so that this man was the greatest of all the men of the east.

4.  And his sons went and feasted in their houses, every one his day; and sent and called for their three sisters to eat and to drink with them.

5.  And it was so, when the days of their feasting were gone about, that Job sent and sanctified them, and rose up early in the morning, and offered burnt offerings according to the number of them all: for Job said, It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually.

6.  Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan came also among them.

7.  And the LORD said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

8.  And the LORD said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?

9.  Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, Doth Job fear God for nought?

10.  Hast not thou made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side? thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land.

He explained that in these verses Satan was complaining to the Lord that he a was not able to temple Job because the Lord had made a hedge about he and his family and Satan could not get through.

The sealer then quoted from memory 1 Peter 4:8.  However, hew quoted from the Joseph Smith Translation which says: "And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall prevent the multitude of sins."

He then asked Chuck if he knew the connection between the two scriptures.  Chuck was too nervous to speak so the sealer gave the answer.  The charity mentioned in 1 Peter was the hedge mentioned in Job 1:10.  The reason Satan could not influence Job or his family was the charity or love that existed there.  He then encouraged Chuck and Cindy to build such a hedge around their family.  As he spoke these words the Spirit again bore testimony to my soul that they were true and I have never forgot them.  May you all remember them also.

I had another experience this week that I consider spiritual that I would like to share with you all.  On Wednesday, I had a PET Scan scheduled at the City of Hope Hospital.  My daughter-in-law, Melissa, who is about 25 weeks pregnant, took me, as she charitably has to all of my appointments there.  We arrived at 6 a.m.  I went in to get set up.  One of the first things the technician did was take my blood sugar.  It was way high, over 300.  (Too many chocolate milk shakes, I guess.)  They told me they could not do the test unless it was under 200. We were sent home and I was scheduled to come back at 8:15 a.m. on Saturday.  Friday night I stayed overnight in the hospital to have some more chemo.  Arrangements were made for my son David to pick me up Saturday morning.  At the end of my PET Scan (blood sugar was 163) the technician told me I would be radioactive for 5 hours and not to be around any pregnant women.  No one said anything about that on Wednesday.  I believe the Lord was watching out for Melissa and her yet to be born little girl.

I will now relate what I consider to be an spiritual experience that involves Henry Jolley, years after he died.  The following is from the Jolley Book that was given to me by Grandma Ethel. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end, the mortal body of Henry Jolley was given the respect it deserved.  It was not plowed under to become the end of a cul-de-sac.  Rather it was buried  in the Provo City Cemetery near other deceased family members where one day it will rise in resurrection with those other family members who are buried near by.  Indeed, it will be a great reunion.

My Mother - Lois Fae Linnebach Rampton

I don't know whether or not it is appropriate to share the contents of your Patriarchal Blessing, especially in a public forum.  But I am going to do it to make at point.  My Patriarchal Blessing says that I was able to choose my parents in our pre-mortal existence.  I don't know if that is true for everyone (the scriptures are silent on the subject) but for me it is.  This fact teaches me three things.  First:  I knew my mother before coming to this earth.  Second:  she was a great person (at least I thought so), so much so that I chose her to get me started on my mortal probation and teach me good from evil.  Third:  having agency, she cared enough about me to accept the calling as my mother.  The same goes for my Dad.  I wish that when I was growing up I had that same perspective.  Indeed, my mother, Lois Fae Linnebach Rampton, was a great woman in the pre-mortal existence.  She was a great person during her mortal existence.  And I am sure she is doing a great work in the afterlife. (There are probably many things that need gold leafing there.)

A few weeks ago when cleaning out the rumpus room I found an old photo album that had pictures of Mom that I had never seen before.  Also, I found some old 3 x 5 cards that had recipes written on them in her own handwriting.  So, to honor her on this Mothers Day, I share with you below, those photos and recipes.  Be sure to try them out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lois age 2

Lois Age 8 3rd from left with siblings and cousins (Uncle Glen is standing next to her)

Lois in middle early teens



Lois 2nd from right early teens

Lois and her brother Gary

Lois on left with two girlfriends

Lois and girlfriend (Bonnie Manley ?)

Lois on right

1957 Lois holding Richard and Charlie in fire truck

Lois back row on right holding Jim.  Roger is on right in front row.  Picture taken at Grandma Ethel's house

Lois in middle

Grandpa holding Richard.  Charlie on right. 1956.

Easy Dessert from Lorainne Johnson

Aunt Janet's Chocolate Chip Cookies

Jello Cottage Cheese Salad

Layer Bars friom Grandma Ethel

Lois's Oatmeal Cookies

Lois's Zucchini Bead

Sunt Louise's Zucchini Bread

Aunt Maureen's Oh Henry Bars

Marci Meyers Rocky Road Fudge

Xmas Feuit Cake from Grandma Ethel

Zucchini Cookies

Zucchini Drop Cookies

Henry Jolley - Pioneer and Settler

I spent four days this past week in Utah for the graduation of my youngest son, Kevin, from Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.  It was a great experience.  Little did I realize at the time that this was Henry Jolley territory.  He lived the last few months of his life in Pleasant Grove, Utah, just north of Provo.  On 20 December 1850 he died and was buried near his home.  His burial and future exhumation are interesting in and of themselves.  I will write about that next week.

Here is the conclusion of Henry Jolley's autobiography.  In it, he gives vivid details of crossing the plains, life in Salt Lake City, and his call to settle the modern day town of Pleasant Grove, Utah.  He died two months after settling there.

----------------------------------------------------------

We pushed our way across Iowa and finally reached Council Bluffs where we set up our camp at Winter Quarters. . Great streams of immigrants from Europe as well as from the Eastern and Southern states were coming to join, which made Council Bluffs a pulsating community. But this was not our destination. Our Prophet, before his death, prophesied that the Saints would become a mighty people in the Rocky Mountains, and there they would build a new Zion.

Brigham Young and the first company of Saints headed west in the spring of 1847. Many more would follow. The Jolleys were good farmers and were advised to remain where they were to supply food for those coming and going through Winter Quarters. A Dutch immigrant and  convert named Barbara became Henry’s wife at this time. He described her as a good woman but not entirely reconciled to a harsh life on the plains.  In the spring of 1850, the time had come for us to start for the Valley. There was my wife Barbara, young Sammy, and my daughter Diana and her daughter Lina Maniza Jones in the company. Sammy was twelve now so he was quite a help. My youngest daughter Lina Maniza married John Parris and they remained in Iowa. We had many trials and hardships along the way. It was a large company and the roads were often muddy from the spring rains which slowed us up. Some days we were able to make only a few miles. I came close to losing my wagon and oxen when we crossed the Platte River which was then at flood stage, but God was with us and we were able to master the torrent.  There were many fascinating experiences on the plains. The  scenery was different and fascinating—no mountains as far as one could see. Waving expanses of bunch grass stretched out in every direction. The wide open spaces were beautiful and inspiring. After the days travel, evening socials and dances were enjoyed. The young folks had much fun and enjoyment, although at times they had to walk. The road generally was not too bad. Many people had traveled on to Oregon and California ahead of us. We were overjoyed to see trappers and Saints returning from the Valley to Winter Quarters. They would tell us intriguing stories about the beautiful canyons and valleys of the new Zion. These would be our refuge from our enemies. Occasionally, we would see a buffalo herd and some Indians which caused some anxiety, but our company was large and our scouts were always on the lookout for any sign of danger.

What a thrill when we first sighted the snow-capped Rockies! The spiraled peaks looked like far away sentinels, and we encountered some snow over the great South Pass. At Fort Bridger we rested a couple of days, and shoed our oxen because the road from here on would be rockier and rougher. There would be deep canyons and streams of water to cross. But these beautiful canyons would lead us to the place of our dreams.

Oh, what a breath-taking scene at the sight of the beautiful Salt Lake Valley. The wide stretching plain with the lake as a background was thrilling to see indeed. We were welcomed by the Saints who had arrived ahead of us and made us feel at home. We had heard so much about the country before we arrived that we did not feel as strangers among our friends. The city had been plotted into 10 acre squares, with wide spacious streets, so the ox teams could easily turn around. Beyond the plotted area were the fields. I obtained a lot on 2^nd South and Main Street. I still had a few means, but the wealth we had when we left Tennessee was pretty much used up.

In July, my daughter, Temperance, and her family arrived in the Valley, and on September 15, my daughter-in-law, Sarah and her children arrived. I met them at the mouth of Immigration Canyon. My cows were dry so I traded the Southwest corner of my lot for a cow that was milking so Sarah’s children could have milk to drink.

There was much pioneering to be done to reclaim the land.  Here we must build our empire, far away from our enemies.  According to Brigham, it was to stretch Northwest and South many miles. Settlements were to be built in every direction from Salt Lake.

We were chosen to move South into Utah County, to a place we called Grove Creek1 at the base of a high mountain called Timpanogas. We were four days on the road, and arrived there on October 13, 1850. The season was late and we had to build our cabins before winter set in. Timber was quite plentiful.

Cottonwood trees lined the banks of the two creeks that flowed from the mountain to the east. Everybody was busy and it looked like an army of ants the way the men, women and children worked to have shelter before snow fell. The work was carried forward in relays, groups of men and boys joined together. In this way they could make better progress than each working alone.

One day we had a cabin nearly to the square. The logs for the rafters were in a pile close to the building. Sammy, (the little negro boy we had brought because his parents died) and the other little boys were playing on them when the logs started to roll. One big log struck Sammy and he was killed instantly. He was a fine, obedient little fellow and we mourned his loss. Although his skin was black, truly his spirit was white just like ours. We buried him on a spot just north and east of our main settlement.  The fall was open and beautiful with some rain, but otherwise pleasant so we finished our cabins before winter set in.  We felt our food supplies were adequate and, now, we were ready to turn our attention to our church duties and planning our new settlement for a permanent home.

Henry Jolley

The last few weeks I have written about Sarah Pippin Jolley and the example she set for her descendents.  However, there was another individual who, I believe, made it possible for her to persevere.  That was her father-in-law, Henry Jolley, the first of the Jolley line to convert to the gospel of Jesus Christ.  His life had similarities to that of Sarah.  Both lost their spouses before crossing the plains.  Both experienced the hardships of Nauvoo.  And both were strengthened by the blessings that came from the temple ordinances.  In fact, when you think about it, it was for people like Henry Jolley and Sarah Pippin Jolley that Brigham Young and the other brethren worked so hard to finish the temple and institute the temple ordinances.  They would need the strength that came from those ordinances to make it across the plains and build Zion in the Rocky Mountains.  When Sarah and her family made it to the Salt Lake Valley, it was Henry Jolley who took her in.  He even sold property he owned to purchase a cow for milk for her children.

Henry Jolley was born in 1789 in Bedford, North Carolina.  That was the same year the North Carolina legislature initially rejected the new Constitution of the United States, but later accepted.  Henry's parents were plantation owners. In 1806 Henry married his childhood sweetheart, Frances Manning.  Both were age 16.  They would become the parents of 9 children.  During the War of 1812 against the British, Henry served in the North Carolina Militia. Like many of his generation, Henry was ambitious, wanting to make a better life for his family.  He felt that he could not do that in North Carolina.  So, in 1825 he set out for the open spaces and cheap land of Tennessee.   

In 1850, a few months before his death, Henry Jolley wrote a personal history.  Here are a few exerpts:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
Thinking we could better our condition, we decided in 1825 to move with many of our friends to Tennessee. We settled a few miles north of Dresden in the Northwestern part of the state. Here land was plentiful, and the climate and soil conditions were ideal for raising most any crop we desired. Our main crops were cotton and tobacco. We had obtained a large acreage and owned quite a number of slaves.

One rather warm February afternoon my sons and I were working in the field when our attention was drawn to two distinguished looking gentlemen who were approaching us. They wore black Prince Albert suits and tall smoke stack hats. We rested on our shovels and waited for them to reach us. They introduced themselves as Elder McIntosh and Elder Wilson, Mormon missionaries. After the usual exchange of greetings, they stated their mission, and told us how the boy prophet, Joseph Smith, had beheld a vision of God the Father, and His Son Jesus Christ. They told us about the Mormons at Nauvoo and the persecutions that were being heaped upon the Prophet and his people. We were especially interested in the new Book of Mormon which gave a history of the ancient inhabitants of America. We were so impressed with their message that we invited them to return and see us again. They left us a Book of Mormon and promised to see us again in about two weeks. I said to my sons, “No more work today. We must tell your mother and your wives of the glad tidings.” I could think of scarcely anything else for days except the strange story about the Nephites and the Lamanites as told in that wonderful book.

As promised, in about two weeks our Mormon friends returned and we sat in awe until the wee hours of the next morning listening to an explanation of the Principles of the Gospel. On the morrow I was ready for baptism, but our Mormon friends suggested that we wait a short time until we were sure. When they came again, my eldest son, Reuben Manning and his wife, Sarah Pippin Jolley and I were baptized February 18, 1842.  Nothing seemed to occupy our minds now, but to join the other Saints at Nauvoo. We finally decided to move and trust our future near the prophet of the Lord. It was quite a decision to make We had a comfortable home and were quite successful financially.  It required a lot of faith and courage to chance our lives and fortunes by moving to another place and live among strangers, but the urge was too great and preparations went speedily forward to move. We sold our plantation and slaves, all except little Sammy, whose parents had died. We took him with us. There was much sadness and weeping at our departure; many of the slaves wanted to come with us, but they had a new master now, who, we hoped, would be good to them. The crops were well along and the whole landscape was beautiful, but our hopes of a new life with the Saints overshadowed our sorrows as we headed our oxen north toward Nauvoo.

When we reached Nauvoo everybody was busy and the City was growing rapidly. Converts were streaming in from every direction. Europe was furnishing many artisans; men with skills who were needed to carry on the technical phase of building and construction of homes and business institutions. The Prophet and his brother Hyrum, were wonderful, spiritually endowed men. We felt lifted up to a heavenly solemnity when in their presence. A great calm would come over us. Truly we had found a prophet of God.

We were farmers and soon obtained some land and began raising crops. With our oxen we were able to provide for ourselves and to share with others who were less fortunate. But the persecution continued. We were continually harassed by outsiders who never missed a chance to upset our plans and work. We were always in fear for the safety of our prophet. We marveled at his courage and faith in the face of the many false charges made against him, often ending with arrest and imprisonment. No matter how depressed we were, whenever we could be in his presence and listen to his voice, our fears and anguish would disappear.  On the 12^th day of January, 1844, my sons and myself were ordained Elders by Patriarch Hyrum Smith. My dear wife Frances was also baptized a member of the church. She was a wonderful wife and mother, but it took her a little longer to gain a testimony, I think hers was the stronger because she worked hard for it.  The spring and summer of 1844 brought us good crops but more trouble from our enemies. Great mobs gathered and threatened us. We could never be at ease. Finally, the terrible tragedy happened. Joseph, Hyrum, and Apostle John Taylor and Willard Richards were held in Carthage jail on some trumped-up charges. We all lived in constant anxiety, knowing of their imprisonment and realizing that the mob spirit was growing worse each day. Then the drunken mob did get out of hand and stormed the jail. Joseph and Hyrum were murdered, and Brother Taylor was shot. He later recovered. When the tragic news came, we were all stunned. Fear and hysteria spread like wildfire. Our hearts were bleeding, and our souls cried out to our Heavenly Father for solace and deliverance. He did come to our rescue, and he did soothe our aching hearts.

As the cortege carrying the bodies passed, we gazed with chilled emotions. It was a bloody scene. Why had God permitted such a thing to happen? Could we survive this great calamity? Why were we such a despised people? Was Satan now going to triumph? Surely not! God would come to our rescue. We must not turn and flee. Truth must succeed over evil. We must gird up our loins and fight harder.

After the bodies had been delivered to the mansion and cleaned up and prepared for burial, we returned on the morrow to see them. As we passed the biers, we beheld divinity here on earth.  They lay there in purity and such majesty before our eyes. But those are only earthly remains, my soul cried out in anguish. Their spirits are with Jesus, our Redeemer and God the Father. Yes! We shall see them again in the resurrection when evil has been subdued, where love and justice will abide forever.  After the funeral, we returned to our homes refreshed, with a renewed determination to carry on. We must finish the Temple and do our work so we will be able to meet our loved ones in that Celestial calm, where sorrow and pain have passed away.

Summer passed and Autumn came. Rainy weather adding to the swampy condition near the river around Nauvoo caused fever to spread among the Saints. Many fell prey to the malady and death stalked through the city. My beloved wife, Frances, whose body had become weakened through our troubles, contracted the disease and despite all our efforts and prayers, she passed away on September 29, 1844. It seemed again the tragedy and sorrow should be our continuous lot. She had been a loving, courageous mother and helpmate, always more concerned about the welfare of others than for herself. We tenderly prepared her for burial and after a lovely service we laid her earthly remains to rest in the Nauvoo cemetery. There were many others who suffered similar losses and we tried to bear each others crosses.

Work was now rushed to complete the Temple. My sons, grandsons and I worked continuously on the structure, often having only bread, sorghum and water for nourishment. When the Temple was completed we all had our endowments on January 5, 1846. My daughter-in-law, Brittiana Mayo Jolley, wife of H.B.M. stood proxy for my dear wife Frances and Frances’ parents were also endowed on January 5, 1846. We were so happy and repaid for all our troubles and past sorrows.  But the bitter cloud of hatred against us continued to rise. The mobsters of Illinois were determined to exterminate us.

Brigham and the Twelve finally gave the word to ‘flee’. Nauvoo was in a high pitch of excitement and turmoil. We hastily packed our wagons and ferried across the river in the face of bitter cold into the terrible wilderness. Our leader, Brigham Young, had a difficult decision to make and a terrible responsibility, but God was at the helm directing us, and we had faith that he would not desert us. The suffering was great and many died of exposure; others fell by the wayside, not being able to face the privations and bear the pain.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

More to come next week.

Painting depicting Henry Jolley

Henry Jolley and Frances Manning Jolley - Saints Par Excellence

Below are sketches of two very faithful Latter-day Saints, Henry Jolley and his wife Frances Manning Jolley.  They are the in-laws to Sarah Pippin Jolley who I have written about before.  Theirs is a remarkable tale of conversion, devotion, hardship and sacrifice.  I will tell their story next week.  So for now, look at their images and contemplate the great gospel family that sprang from these two faithful parents.

Henry Jolley (1789 -1850)

Frnaces Manning Jolley (1789 - 1844)

24th of July - Inglewood Style - My Recollections

The last three weeks I have written about and included other people's recollections of our pioneer ancestor, Sarah Pippin Jolley.  It was for people like her that the State of Utah declared the 24th of July,  the day Brigham Young entered the Salt Lake Valley, a state holiday.  At the mouth of Emigration Canyon he declared, "This is the right place.  Drive on."  And from that time on, tens of thousands of pioneers did exactly that,  they drove on.  They drove their wagons across the Great Plains and over the Rocky Mountains to the valley of the Great Salt Lake.  Some stayed in the Salt Lake Valley.  Others were called to settle other areas of the Mountain West.  Henry Rampton went to Sessions Settlement, which later became Bountiful.  Henry Jolley was called to settle Pleasant Grove (I will write more about him next week).  Sarah Pippin Jolley was called to help settle southern Utah.  It is for these people and the tens of thousands more like this that we honor their memory on the 24th of July. 

 There is another person whose memory we honor on that day, Grandma, Mom (Lois Fae Linnebach Rampton).  She, too, was born on the 24th of July, again, a state holiday in Utah where she was born.  And it was the custom of her family to go fishing on that holiday.  Hence, she never had a birthday party with her friends with cake and ice cream and presents.  She never mentioned celebrating her birthday on the family trips, although I'm sure they must have done something.  I'll have to ask Uncle Glen.  I think, for that reason, birthdays were a big deal to her.  But, the 24th of July was also a big deal to her, particularly in her middle age years for reasons I will mention below.

When our family moved from Salt Lake City to California in 1957 we settled in the city of Inglewood and became members of the Inglewood Ward which was part of the Inglewood Stake.  On the week end before the 24th of July the Inglewood Stake would hold a massive Pioneer Day Celebration at the stake center in Westchester.  People of today who did not experience it do not realize how huge it was.  There were games, food, a Country Store and Road Shows.  Oh yes, Road Shows, when they were taken seriously and some did actually go on the road.  As much as I disliked them in my teenage years, in my twenties I starred in two that actually were regional winners and went on tour to other stakes.  I was the bumbling tour guide in a George of the Jungle type production called "The Son of John Lemay."   In the other I set the pattern for Ryan Seacrest as the Master of Ceremonies for the "Great American Talent Contest."  I can still remember original songs from both of them. 

Come gather round us if you dare

And listen to a tale of terror
Of savage natives, please beware.
They stole the son of John Lemay..... away.

It was some twenty years ago

A man, his wife and son did go
Into to jungle full of foe.
They stole the son of John Lemay..... away.

It was a pleasure trip that ended in a scare

Mr. Lemay and his poor wife searched everywhere
But jungle natives never leave a single clue.
They took away... the little boy.  They might get you.

Now twenty years have passed away

And the Lemays returned today
To find those natives, they must pay.
They stole the son of John Lemay..... away.

So come with us to jungle land.

If you're afraid then hold my hand.
We'll catch those natives like we planned.
We'll find the son of John Lemay..... today.

And then the curtain opened there I was, the mighty jungle guide, with Mr. and Mrs. Lemay, in a large pot ready to be eaten.  But I digress.  I take that back, I don't digress because for this production Grandma was the producer.  Steven Purdy may have been the writer, composer and director, but Grandma was in charge.  In fact, she was in charge of many before that and many after that.  She made sure scenery got built and that it could fit in and out of the stage door of the stake center.  She made sure that each participant had a costume.  She didn't do all the sewing, but enlisted the help of everyone in the ward who could.  She chauffeured kids to and from practice and the closer to the 24th the more frequent the practices.  And she was the "Enforcer."  When kids acted up at the practices, they incurred the verbal wrath of Sister Rampton.  It didn't affect Roger and Jim as much as everybody else.  They were use to it.  But no one else wanted to be yelled at.  First, she would give them "the look" and if they continued, they got the verbal tirade, which of course, stopped everything because people wanted to see who she was yelling at.  And, if it ever was Roger or Jim, they got a double dose of it when they got home from Grandpa, although he never yelled.  He, however, had a way of talking to you that really made you feel remorseful.  I know from experience.  And then, she put on cast party the night of the last show.

A few years before Grandma passed away, I bought Grandma and Grandpa tickets to see "Wicked" up at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood.  I got them preferred parking and told them to make sure they got there early, which they did.   As they were sitting in their seats they began to converse with people around them.  One man said he was a producer of TV programs.  Grandpa added that Grandma produced Road Shows.  The man wanted to know what a Road Show was.  I believe Grandpa simply stated that it was a musical stage production.  Then everyone around wanted to talk to Grandma, thinking she was a famous musical producer. 

Back to the Inglewood Stake Pioneer Day Celebration.  Part of the festivities included the judging of vegetables, fruits, jams, pies, cakes, etc. like you would see at a regular county fair.  Many years they gave out blue, red and white ribbons.  Other years they gave out gold, silver and bronze medals with the persons name and category engraved on the back.  This was such a big deal that the medals were handed out in sacrament meeting.  Grandpa was always a first or second place winner for zucchini size.  There was something about the soil in the back part of his yard that zucchinis liked.  He also did well in tomatoes and squash, but never very good in carrots.  Baby carrots were not in fashion back then.  Grandma was also a winner for zucchini size because Grandpa could only enter one and he had many big ones.  But every year that I can remember, Grandma would be the gold medal winner for bottled/canned peaches.  I loved those peaches.  Every year we would take some friends and neighbors and drive out to Pearblossom to the pick your own peaches orchard.  It was a family responsibility to go.  We would pick baskets and boxes full of them, enough to fill up the back of our van or Vista Cruiser.  When we got home, Grandma would take out a few that we could eat raw.  The others got put in the giant pot of boiling water.  I don't remember how long they stayed in there, just long enough to make it easy to peel the skin off.  Then she would cut each peach in half and fill up a Mason Jar bottle with them.  She would also add some sugar and other stuff that I never knew the name of.  Then she would put the lid on and heat up the bottles in boiling water to seal the lid and cook the peaches.  I'm not sure of the exact process, but that is how I remember it.  The bottles were then cooled off  and put out in the garage with the food storage.  And from then, every night for dinner, among other things, we would have bottled peaches.  And they were gooooood!!  I especially liked them over cottage cheese.  Grandpa liked his with vanilla ice cream.  And the judges at the Pioneer Day Celebration always agreed.  Hers were the best.  But, you can't have all those peaches without making peach jam.  She always won first place for that also.  I can still taste the peach jam on the toast she would make us for breakfast.  She knew just how to mix the butter and jam on the bread.

Part of the Country Store was a bakery.  Each ward was assigned to bring so many cakes, pies and cookies each day.  Then those who attended would buy them.  This was a great fund raiser.  Grandma always made apple pies and chocolate chip cookies to donate.  (This was in addition to her work on the Road Shows.)  Grandpa and I would always hang out around the bakery booth at the times the foods from the Inglewood Ward Relief Society were going to be put out.  I bought all the chocolate chip cookies and he bought all the apple pies that Grandma had made.  We should have just donated the money and saved her the trouble of transporting all those delicious baked goods to the stake center.

Her participation in the Pioneer Day Celebration did not end here.  Every year our ward was in charge of the hamburger booth.  I'm not sure what year this began, probably the fifties when two brothers, Kay and Cal Rohner, built a huge grill and put a restaurant quality process of putting out hamburgers in place.  When Kay Rohner became bishop of our ward, people began to call the hamburgers "Rohner-burgers."  Grandpa became bishop after Kay Rohner, but they still remained "Rohner-burgers."  When I became bishop they remained "Rohner-burgers."  The secret to burgers was the thick-sliced tomatoes, crisp lettuce leafs and hamburger meat full of fat.  Every year that I can remember Grandma would go to the produce market in downtown Los Angeles early, early in the morning and compete with the restaurant chefs for the best tomatoes and lettuce.  And she always got what she wanted.  She would then bring them back to the hamburger booth ready to be washed, sliced and served.  Lines would form down the length of the parking lot with people waiting for their "Rohner-burger" which the Ramptons really perfected, but that's another story.  Not only did she do this, but she managed to spend time in the hamburger booth slicing the tomatoes. 

One other thing:  during my time as bishop we did not have her do the Road Shows.  Instead, I called her to be the Primary President in our ward.  Even this calling had a Pioneer Day responsibility.  On the Saturday morning of the celebration was the Primary Pioneer Parade.  The kids from each ward dressed up in pioneer or native American attire and pushed or pulled their wagons and hand carts through the streets of Westchester, many times with a police escort.  Grandma was in charge of making sure each child had a costume and transportation to get there on Saturday morning by 8 a.m.

So, the 24th of July Pioneer Day Celebration in the Inglewood Stake was a big, big deal for the Ramptons, especially Grandma: Road Show producer, food contest winner,  baked goods provider, parade master and quality food purchaser.  That was her 24th of July for most her adult life.

But, we, her sons and husband, made sure she always had a family birthday party, either directly on her birthday if it did not conflict with the Pioneer Day Celebration or if it did, then on the Sunday after the celebration.  Nothing fancy, a nice dinner, cake, ice cream and presents.  Oh yes, and that Happy Birthday sign that she always hung up in the kitchen for all our birthdays was appropriately displayed, even then.

The actual prop I used for the guidebook.  Found it in the bottom of my file cabinet.