My Brother Christopher (Part 5 of 9)

Mom and Dad drove down to Provo, Utah once a month on a Saturday to attend the Provo Temple. When they did they always left very early in the morning. Since Christopher was the youngest child, they were worried that he might wake up and cry, not knowing where they were. So I was asked to come up from my room in the basement and sleep on a little bed in his room while he slept in his crib. But he usually didn’t want to sleep in the crib. He wanted to sleep in the little bed with me. We’d talk until late in the night. Or we’d sing. We had fun being brothers. For years I had no brother at all. Now I had a little brother and I was so proud. Many times he would drop off to sleep before me. And I would look at him and just be thrilled that I had a little brother. I would lay there in the semi darkness and look at his curtains in his room. His curtains had the names and logos of all the NBA basketball teams and I would memorize them. Christopher was so proud that he had those curtains. We didn’t follow or watch basketball at our house, but Christopher could tell that those teams represented something important. He knew even at his young age of two that it was cool to have curtains with NBA teams on them.

My Brother Christopher (Part 4 of 9)

One morning when Christopher could talk, he got up early and came out to the kitchen to watch Mom making breakfast. On mornings like this Mom usually said to Christopher, “You look all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, Christopher.” On this particular morning Christopher looked at Mom and said, “Mom, I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!” On another morning Christopher got dressed by himself in a turtle-neck sweater. He came out to the kitchen and announced to Mom, “I’m turtle-the-neck!”

My Brother Christopher (Part 3 of 9)

One night when Christopher was about two years old he came down to my room in the basement. He had a cold, baked potato in his hand and he was eating it. He said to me, “I want to say my prayers in your room tonight.” So we knelt down at my bed and he said his prayers. Half way through he paused and didn’t say a word. I was patient for about a minute and then I looked up to find Christopher smiling. He was just finishing up chewing. He said, “I had to take a potato break.”

My Brother Christopher (Part 2 of 9)

When Christopher was about a year and a half old, he got into a very mischievous mood. He went down in the basement and unfolded whole batches of laundry Mom had done in the laundry room. Then he went and took apart three printing sets that I had. And then he went into the food storage room, which we called the fruit room. We had a box on the floor of tomatoes off our vines in the backyard. They had been placed down there to ripen after the first frost outside. He took each one out separately into the family room and smashed it with his little foot into the carpet. He did this to about ten tomatoes. Mom called Dad at work and asked him to stop at the hardware store on his way home from work to buy some locks for all the doors in the house. I must confess that I saw him smashing the tomatoes into the carpet. As I came down the stairs, he ran away to hide. Even though he was doing wrong, how could I blame him? He looked kind of cute anyway and smashing those tomatoes with one foot while standing on the other foot showed great coordination for a toddler!

My Brother Christopher (Part 1 of 9)

When I began junior high my only brother was Christopher and he was two and a half years old. He was a bundle of energy. It seemed everywhere we went he was diving over something or getting into mischief. It seams some children who are like that are mean, but Christopher was very nice. When he was a baby, Mom bought him some new shoes. Christopher must not have liked them, even though they were made to look like hiking boots. (I’m sure. Hiking boots for a new-born baby?) Well, Mom tried to put them on him and he was so wiggly, that she worked at it and worked at it and after ten minutes she finally succeeded in getting them on him. But he wiggled right out of them. When he was older, and getting ready to walk, Mom put him in the walker and it held him up a bit to give him some practice walking around. We were in the front room listening to him scoot around in the kitchen on the linoleum floor. We didn’t hear him, though, move to the entry way that led down the basement stairs. Pretty soon we heard the horrible sound of him falling down the un-carpeted stairs with his walker. Mom ran down and got Christopher. She picked him up in her arms, brought him back up stairs and sat in the rocking chair in the front room and soothed him the rest of the day as he whimpered. Christopher escaped that incident with a big scrape on his forehead. Even though myself and four girls before him had been raised with that same walker, that had never happened before. The result was that we always kept the door to the basement shut after that, especially when we had a baby in the house. Even years later, when my own children were over for a visit, Mom would make sure the basement door was shut. And she would remind everyone about the time Christopher had fallen down the stairs in his walker.

Youth Conference To Nauvoo (Part 6 of 6)

The next day we visited the Liberty Jail. The visitor center was built around a life-size replica of the jail. There were recorded sounds depicting the several months that Joseph Smith and others were confined there. Then, the last destination was Independence, Missouri. We visited the RLDS tabernacle and the LDS visitor center in this very significant city which played such an important role in the past and will do so in the future. I wandered up to a white church called The Church of the Temple Block. It was it’s own world-wide church. I talked to a very old man there.
The bus stopped at a little hamburger stand on the outskirts of Independence. Bishop Hunter wanted to buy everyone a root beer. An old man was chipping ice from the sides of a small freezer and pouring root beer from cans into little cups, to fill the bishop's request. It was kind of funny watching him, but I felt sorry for him having to serve such a big group. Then everyone boarded the bus for the long ride back to Utah. We drove across hot Kansas with the air conditioning broken. We stopped for breakfast the next day in Grand Junction, Colorado and arrived home later that day. It was Friday, June 6. The trip had lasted a week, but will live forever in the hearts and minds of those of us from the South Cottonwood Eleventh Ward.

Coming Tomorrow: My Brother Christopher

Youth Conference To Nauvoo (Part 5 of 6)

The next day was spent in travel across Missouri, as well as a visit to where Mark Twain grew up. We arrived that night at a college in Kansas City. The next day we went to Far West, Missouri and visited the temple site there and saw the corner stones of the temple that was never built. There was a chapel of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and we were able to go through it. The man that took us through was the janitor and he showed us a slide presentation. Dad asked him, "What are some good places to visit in Independence, Missouri?" We are going there tomorrow." The man replied, "I can't think of any better place than your own visitor center." We also visited Adam-On-Dihaman. The area was so beautiful! No wonder, I thought to myself, this was were Adam came to live after he was driven out of the Garden of Eden.

Youth Conference To Nauvoo (Part 4 of 6)

The bus tour returned to the college at McComb and prepared for dinner. Even though it was still daylight, black clouds covered the sky and the street lights came on. While everyone was eating dinner in the cafeteria, we were told to go down to the tornado cellar while a tornado passed by. The leaders helped us youth pass the time during the several hours' confinement. Dad had many of the boys participate in a chin-up contest.

Youth Conference To Nauvoo (Part 3 of 6)

The next day was the greatly anticipated trip to Nauvoo. The weather was very bad in the morning. Everyone feared that the trip would need to be canceled, but as we boarded the bus, the weather began to change. There was nice weather for the day-long visit to Nauvoo. There were full-time elder missionaries that took the group on their tour as well as missionary couples who staffed places like the black smith shop, bakery, and print shop. There were many places special to Church History like the temple lot, where the foundations of the Nauvoo temple could still be seen. There was also the spot where the pioneers crossed the Mississippi River when it was frozen over as they were forced to leave. I thought of my ancestors, some of whom might have made such an exodus. I was deeply moved at that spot.

Youth Conference To Nauvoo (Part 2 of 6)

The next day, Saturday Morning, we ate breakfast in Cheyenne, Wyoming. By dinner time we were in Nebraska and ate at the LDS chapel there a fine meal of farm produced corn, ham, and mashed potatoes. Bishop Hunter was very concerned about the safety of the long bus ride and had new bus drivers flown in every eight hours. That night we drove across Iowa and saw a tremendous lightning display flashing all about.
On June First, Sunday morning, as the bus crossed a large bridge over the Missouri River, Dad was moved by how huge the river was. Most everyone had woken up by then. He spoke so everyone on the bus could hear him. Dad paraphrased Joseph Smith and said, "A man might put forth his puny arm to stop the mighty Missouri River in its course, than to stop the work of God." (See Doctrine & Covenants 121:33.) That made quite an impression on us youth. What a great object lesson at that moment!
Later that morning the bus arrived at a college in McComb, Illinois where everyone unloaded and got cleaned up for a trip to Carthage. It was a sacred experience to visit the Carthage Jail where Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were martyred. We were deeply touched as we stood in the same room where the martyrdom had taken place in 1844, one hundred and thirty-six years ago, that month. It was also Dad's forty-fifth birthday. One of the tour guides was from Utah and had actually served on the Wells Stake high council with Grandpa Loveless. Small world. We returned to McComb and had a Sacrament Meeting in the college cafeteria. Dad and I were room mates.

Youth Conference To Nauvoo (Part 1 of 6)

We went to a lot of memorable places in our Church activities over the years, most right around the Salt Lake area. And also scout camps in Utah. Dad and the rest of the bishopric accompanied the youth of our ward to many youth activities. In August of 1979 we went to Snow College for youth conference where our ward participated in the Snow Follies. We also had soccer matches, classes, a dance, and boxing for us guys. Less than a year later, in June of 1980 the Eleventh Ward sponsored a bus trip to Nauvoo, Illinois and other sites of Church History. Vera and I went along and had to miss our Granite Youth tour that year so we could go on this trip. Dad, of course went along as a member of the bishopric. So did Karen and Julie come along on the trip. Julie was not yet fourteen, the required age, but Bishop Hunter gave her a special clearance to go. We boarded the chartered bus at midnight on May 30th and drove straight through the night.

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 8 of 8)

Mid way through my ninth grade year in school, I was called by the bishop of our ward to be the Teachers Quorum President. I was over the young men ages 13 and 14 years old. I went to many presidency meetings and other planning sessions with our adult advisor, Lynn Samsel. He provided the “shadow leadership” for us to shine. I also attended the bishops youth council. Vera was the Beehive Class President so we attended this together. We actually have fond memories of goofing off in this monthly meeting that was usually held on Sunday afternoon. The bishop presided at this meeting, but usually a young man, the first assistant in the Priests Quorum, conducted the meeting. One month the first assistant wasn’t there, so the bishop indicated that I was next in line to conduct. So I went to the head table and conducted the meeting. I can’t tell you how elated that made me feel to be asked to do that. The bishop had every right to step in and conduct the meeting himself, but he deferred to his youth leadership.
When I turned sixteen, I was ordained a Priest. I had the Priesthood authority to baptize somebody, though I never had that opportunity until I was a full-time missionary. But one responsibility I got to perform quite often was to bless the Sacrament. First the Priests, (three or four young men in our ward) stood up at the Sacrament Table while the congregation was singing the Sacrament Hymn. They broke the bread into bite sized pieces. Dad told me when he was sixteen and blessed the Sacrament for the first time that he was so nervous that he just fumbled around and squished the bread into balls of dough, or so it seemed to him. When the song was over, one of the Priests knelt and read the Sacrament prayer, exactly like it is in the scriptures. When it was my turn to do this, (yes, I was nervous,) I knelt and said the prayer. I have since reflected that I was using the same Priesthood authority that Jesus Christ used to bless the last supper, or in other words, the first Sacrament.
As I write this, I am a bishop. Most of the things I do as a bishop, I learned while serving in leadership capacities in the Aaronic Priesthood.

Coming Tomorrow: Youth Conference To Nauvoo

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 7 of 8)

Seminary Bowl was another thing I was in charge of. We competed doing scripture chase and answering gospel questions. I had made a poster encouraging people to tryout for the seminary bowl team. It showed a young man in a basketball uniform shooting a Bible through a basketball hoop. Only myself and one other guy decided to participate in the before school and after school seminary bowl. The rest were lots of girls. We practiced quite a bit and then we competed against other schools, after school. There were four players at each time going against four more players from another school. There were also time periods and it was my responsibility to say who was going to play in each time period, making sure that everyone had a chance to play. I must confess here, that I made sure that I always played at the same time as girls I really liked. Seminary Bowl was a tremendous experience for me. The district competition was held at the Cottonwood Seminary building. We came close to winning the championship, but the real highlight of the day was in the opening exercises a the very beginning when someone sang a solo of the primary song, Teach Me To Walk In The Light. That solo was sung by none other than JoDee Healy!
I only did seminary bowl one other year and that was my Junior Year. The individual school competitions were held on the same day as track meets. I would run up a storm on the track, participating in my maximum of four events and then shower and be to the seminary building in time to help my team to victory in seminary bowl. It gave me a great sense of belonging and feeling needed.

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 6 of 8)

I was in charge of setting up the seminary’s extemporaneous speech competition. There were two seminary teachers who taught six classes each during the school day. Brother Segmiller taught the early morning seminary class which brought the total to thirteen classes. Each class had their own competition and produced one winner. I didn’t make it for my class, which was probably good since I was in charge of arranging the judges for the school competition. Those judges were, Mrs. Lloyd, the speech and drama teacher from the junior high, my own grandfather, William Duncan Loveless the third, and my neighbor, Leo Hansen. All thirteen of the class winners came after school on the designated day. Each drew numbers to determine the order they would go in. The first person went and had five minutes to prepare a talk on a particular assigned gospel topic. When he or she was ready, the next person would draw a gospel topic and then go prepare the talk in another room. We kept up this procedure until everyone had spoken. Everyone did very well. After that the judges compiled their individual scores and then announced the winner as Robbie Berrett. A few weeks later, Brother Steele picked up me and Robbie one night and we traveled to the seminary for Granger High School where we had the district extemporaneous speech competition. Robbie didn’t win that, but we sure heard some good talks.
Probably the greatest benefit of being on the seminary council was the chance to associate with very fine people our age and older. There were some fantastic guys, but lots of knock-out girls! These top-notch people were from the other seminary councils, both junior high as well as high school. And there was also a district seminary council. One of the district council people was JoDee Healy, and my friend, Roger Lobrot, who was on the junior high council with me, and I, were absolutely in love with her. She was a Senior at Cottonwood High School and she drove a light blue Mustang. On Valentines Day, 1977, Roger and I even took her some roses. His grandpa drove us clear out to her house and couldn’t believe that two guys would take roses to the same girl, at the same time. JoDee knew of our admiration for her, but was sure surprised when we showed up on her door step with red roses for her. She was over come and told us we had made her day. At the end of the year we had a social at the park for all the seminary councils. We played a game were the girls chased the boys and if they caught them, Brother Masters performed a mock marriage. JoDee caught me and everyone cheered as Brother Masters performed the “marriage.” For a long time I dreamed of really marrying JoDee, but I knew I’d have some fierce competition. I dated her once and later went to her wedding reception. She ended up marrying, the president of that district seminary council, Brad Barham, who we were all very impressed with right from the beginning.

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 5 of 8)

A few weeks before my ninth grade year in Junior High I learned of a new kind of service in the Church. This was for seminary. Though I had been raised in the Church all my life, I had never even been inside of a seminary building. They were usually adjacent to the property of a high school or junior high. Bonneville Junior High had a seminary building to the north of the school grounds with a chain-link fence separating the two. There was a side walk and a gate that was always open leading to the seminary building. The separation of church and state was very evident. Starting in ninth grade we could get released time from our school classes, one hour a day, and have gospel instruction. Each year a different subject was taught. In my ninth grade year, everyone studied the New Testament. The next year was Church History and the Doctrine and Covenants. My Junior year was the Book of Mormon, with my Senior year being a study of the Old Testament. In ninth grade I actually got high school graduation credit for a Bible course. But by my Senior year, the law changed to where I didn’t get credit for my Old Testement cource. I guess enough people were upset that there wasn’t a greater separation of church and state. I don’t think that is what the founding fathers meant at all by a separation of church and state, but, oh well.
I was excited about taking seminary in ninth grade, then someone had suggested my name as a possible youth leader in the seminary program. I was called to be the academic vice president on the seminary council for the whole school. I think since one of the seminary teachers, Jesse Steele, was in my ward, that probably helped matters a bit. My first duty was to make a big sign which said, “Welcome On Down To Seminary.” But when I made it, I wasn’t sure how to spell the word “welcome.” You’d have thought that since I was dealing with a long piece of butcher paper and four foot high letters, I would have consulted a dictionary. But no, I didn’t. The sign actually said “Wellcome On Down To Seminary,” But fortunately everyone thought it said, “Well Come On Down To Seminary.” The result was the same anyway. On the first day of school my sign, hanging on that chain-link fence, beckoned every student to come to seminary.

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 4 of 8)

My parents set a very good example to us children of their service in the Church. Mom was Spiritual Living teacher in the Relief Society and spent hours on her lesson each month getting them ready. She was also stake camp director one year. Dad was a stake missionary in the days before there were full-time missionaries in the Salt Lake Valley. Several nights a week he and his missionary companion, Jack Joyce, went out and met with people to share the Gospel with them.
When full-time missionaries finally were assigned to Salt Lake, it seemed they were very funny guys, or elders, I should say. We had never been around full-time missionaries that were currently on their missions. We had them to our house many times and they always had us in stitches with laughter. Vera and I had a saying that we often used when we were in a particularly jovial mood. “Let’s have Uncle Dave and the missionaries over and have a joke night.” It was also through the full-time missionaries that I persuaded Dad to teach me to shave. “You can’t expect me to go out and help the missionaries with this beard can you?” I said as I pointed to my peach fuzz.

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 3 of 8)/

Genealogy is very important to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. We each researched out our family history and then performed sacred ordinances for our ancestors who had died before they had a chance to do them themselves. To help accomplish this, the Church had a large genealogy library. In the 1970s, this was located in the first four floors of the west wing of the new Church Office Building in downtown Salt Lake City. Mom took me there for my first visit when I was twelve or thirteen. Partly because I was working on the genealogy merit badge and partly because she wanted me to experience it and maybe get into doing genealogical research myself.
It was a Saturday morning. We parked near Dad’s office which was a block away from the Church Office Building. We entered the library from the ground floor. The first thing we did was take a tour. Mom got some ear phones and a tape player from the information desk. I put the earphones on and the narrator’s voice directed me where to go in the library and explained each section’s purpose to me. There was a card catalog, bigger than I had ever seen before. It showed what the library had in the way of books on family histories and references, as well as maps. I moved on to see many of the books. I loved seeing them all on the shelves. I had thought the library was big for my Junior High School. But this was much larger. And the books looked a lot older, as well. I loved the smell of them. We went up another floor and saw rows and rows of shelves. These contained nothing but legal sized binders with pedigree charts and family group sheets. We turned off the tape and Mom found and showed me a binder with some of our family’s information. I was amazed. A few sheets in a vast ocean of people’s names, dates, and other important information.
We went to another floor and saw row upon row of hooded machines with people sitting at them. The lights on that floor were darkened. People were threading film though spindles and then a light in the top of each machine projected the film’s contents onto the bottom of the machine. Even though I had never seen one before, it didn’t take me long to recognize these as microfilm readers. We moved on and found some smaller machines. These had little cards made of film which the machine read. Mom explained to me that these were called micro-fiche. At this point we realized that the tape wasn’t running, so I turned it back on and it explained the microfilm and micro-fiche to me, almost word for word of what Mom had just told me.
We went back to the floor where the shelves full of binders was. This was also where the copy center was located. People were standing in line, waiting for a person to help them make some copies. Some people had the big legal sized binders. Others had the books. The person at the front of the line explained to the college-age person on the other side of the counter what copies were to be made. The copy machines were very special because they had the ability to copy onto plain paper. At that time, every copy machine I had seen, copied onto thermal fax paper. I was amazed at the whole thing. I loved this place! Over the years I would visit it many times more, with Mom, and with Dad, and by myself.

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 2 of 8)

When I did turn fourteen and I was ordained a Teacher, I took on new responsibilities such as being assigned as a home teacher. My first companion was Brother Trusell. He was an educator and eventually became a very successful principal of West High School in Salt Lake City. We visited the families we were over and then we went to the ward and reported to the Elders Quorum Presidency in what was called an oral evaluation. Teachers also had the assignment to set up the Sacrament. We did this with two or three of us who were assigned by the Teachers Quorum Presidency. We spread out the white cloth over the Sacrament table and then set out thirteen bread trays and thirteen water trays. We usually had twelve Deacons passing the Sacrament and we prepared one more tray just in case they needed it. The water trays each had 60 small paper cups and it was a job to quickly place those cups in the trays and then fill each cup with water. We had a very small room with a sink behind the stand so that we could prepare the Sacrament. It was an awesome responsibility to prepare the bread and water, emblems that symbolized the body and blood of Christ.
Another responsibility I had as a Teacher was to be an usher during Sacrament Meeting. Our chapel had four internal entrances and we had a member of the Teachers Quorum at each one during Sacrament Meeting. When I was assigned to do this. I sat next to one of those doors. I closed the door and stood at it during each prayer and while the Sacrament was being passed. So most of the time I was able to sit down. I found it difficult not to fidget during the Sacrament. Dad explained to me that it was almost like doing guard duty in the army, and he showed me how to stand at attention. Being an usher wasn’t quite that formal, but it was hard for me, especially since my soaks itched. I soon found, however, that if I thought about Jesus, it helped me focus on the true meaning of my service in the Sacrament Meeting. “Surely,” I thought, “If Jesus could suffer and die for me, then I can easily stand here for twenty minutes while His Sacrament is being passed.”

A Great Sense Of Belonging (Part 1 of 8)

My faith grew out of the faith of my parents. But at a very young age I came to know for myself that what I was participating in was true. At age twelve I had been ordained a deacon. I then had the proper authority to pass the Sacrament at Church. I was usually dressed very nicely for this service. I wore a pair of blue checkered pants, polyester, double knit. (In the early 1970s they were considered very stylish.) And I had a blue suit jacket which was also double knit. I wore a knit vest many times as well. And a white shirt and tie. Once though, I had woven, on a long, thin loom, made from link-n-log roof slats, a tie. I wore it proudly one day while passing the Sacrament. My goal was to eventually weave a whole suit coat. But the tie turned out to be enough.
Two times a year, in April and then again in October, the Church held it’s General Conference. When this happened, everyone stayed at home and watched Conference on TV during conference weekend. It hasn’t been this way for a long time now, but in the early 1970s, we still gathered on Sunday evening for Sacrament Meeting. This was a tri ward Sacrament Meeting, meaning, all three wards that met in our Church building met together at once to partake of the Sacrament with a few short speakers reflecting on the just concluded General Conference. One of the last one of these was held when I was first counselor in the Deacons Quorum presidency. Our ward was in charge of the Sacrament on that particular day and the president couldn’t be there so I was asked, at age thirteen, to organize the deacons for passing the sacrament to such a large group. I was pleased that we were able to rely on the Deacons from just our ward, and we didn’t have to ask deacons from the other two wards to pass the Sacrament. Another time President N. Eldon Tanner of the First Presidency of the Church, spoke at a missionary farewell in our ward. I had the assignment to pass the number one position, meaning the stand and all the people who sat up there. I passed the Sacrament to President Tanner first. He whispered to Bishop Webb, “I see that in your ward you have to use some Teachers to pass the Sacrament.” Although I had almost reached my full adult height of six feet, two inches, I was still not fourteen and therefore not yet in the Teachers Quorum. The bishop remarked to President Tanner, “That boy is a Deacon!”

My Sister Lisa (Part 6 of 6)

When Lisa got into Fourth grade, she started playing the flute. This led her to find much joy through music. One year for Christmas, I wrote music for each person in the family. I wrote a piece for Lisa that she could play on the flute. I have rarely seen any musician who was more expressive in her playing than Lisa.
By the time 1980 had rolled around, Lisa was in sixth grade, however, the text book I had in sixth grade was long since forgotten. Nevertheless I was very proud to have a little sister named Lisa.

Coming Tomorrow: A Great Sense Of Belonging

My Sister Lisa (Part 5 of 6)

Lisa had eczema, a skin disease that flared up on her hands and feet. At times it got pretty bad and was very irritating to Lisa. Many nights Mom would apply medicine to her hands and feet and then tie a plastic bag over them to keep the medicine from rubbing off during the night. At one time when Dad was out of town, Lisa not only had a bad case of eczema, but she also had the flu. She was very sick and was confined to her bed on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed in the front-most bedroom of our house. I remember sitting by her bedside. She didn’t seem to have the strength to talk. All she could do was stare at me. It was almost as if she were saying, “Help me, Billy! Do something!” I had often seen my Dad lay his hands on the sick and bless them. Now he wasn’t here to do that. I wanted to do that, but I knew that the Priesthood I held was not for the laying-on-of-hands. I could pray for her, though. And I did pray, “Please Heavenly Father bless this little girl who tries so hard to do what Thou hast taught her to do.” She eventually got better.

My Sister Lisa (Part 4 of 6)

Lisa wasn’t even into her teens yet when a lady down the street, Barbara Ward, asked her to start cleaning her house. Lisa did this for many years and Barbara was very pleased with Lisa’s work. Lisa was a very good cleaner and did a fine and thorough job each time she went to clean, which was often. We would often say, “Where is Lisa?” None of us had to answer that question, we already knew that Lisa was at Barbara Ward’s cleaning. Barbara sold cosmetics and a few years later she got Lisa signed up to sell cosmetics as well.

My Sister Lisa (Part 3 of 6)

My Dad had been influential in bringing a older lady into the Church named Jean Raymond. We went frequently to her home as a family. She lived in a cozy trailer in the trailer court in our ward. After a while she took a liking to Lisa and asked her to go with her on many outings and activities. Lisa always did. She did it mostly because it made Jean so happy to have Lisa’s company. To the rest of us children, we were amused that such an older lady was paying attention to Lisa. But I think we were all a bit jealous that it wasn’t each one of us that was getting the attention.

My Sister Lisa (Part 2 of 6)

I’ve always been impressed by Lisa. When I was barely starting out in high school, I noticed one day that Lisa would go in her room with the large type edition of the Bible. She was reading it on her own! Reading the scriptures was nothing new at our house, but for a child of Lisa’s age to be reading it for no reason, like preparing a lesson or fulfilling an assignment from some class, was unheard of. Sure we read the scriptures as a family each morning, but studying them by yourself? And here was little Lisa reading the Bible by herself. Like I say, I was impressed.
We also had a filmstrip projector at our house. Dad was a stake missionary for the Church and he was constantly showing filmstrips to people to help them understand the teachings of the full-time missionaries. It seemed every night he was gone to show a film strip and to teach someone. So my parents bought a filmstrip projector and a few sets of filmstrips that were originally intended for use to teach Indian children. Our family enjoyed them very much. One day I noticed that Lisa would take the projector and a whole bunch of filmstrips into her room. In a moment I would hear the cassette tape recorder playing the sound track of the little program. Again I was impressed with Lisa. It seemed she had a spirituality that was set a notch higher than the rest of us. She wanted to not only hear the Gospel at Church and to also be taught it in our home, but she wanted to live it as well.

My Sister Lisa (Part 1 of 6)

My sister Lisa was born when I was in first grade. In fact, once while we were driving in the car right after she was born, I suggested that we name her Lisa because I had a friend in my school class named Lisa. I guess my parents took me up on my suggestion because that is what we named her.
Several years later, at the end of the school year in Sixth grade a bunch of us kids were goofing off while our teacher was out of the room. We had some text books that were brand new that year. There was a space on the inside back cover to write the name of the person it was assigned to each year. We had written our own names in the back of each book. Now at the end of the year we were getting ready to hand them back in. But it seemed that none of us could resist the temptation to speculate who might have the book the next year. We each started writing names of younger kids who would get each book the next year and the next. My name was written in the book for the 1973-1974 school year. I quickly wrote in the name of someone who would be in sixth grade the next year for 1974-1975. I put my sister Vera down for 1975-1976, then my Sister Karen for 1976-1977, then someone else for 1977-1978, then Julie for 1978-1979, with other people for 1979-1980, with Lisa Loveless for 1980-1981. At that time, (1974) my sister Lisa was actually in Kindergarten. As we were doing this waste-of-time-activity a girl who had not been participating with us looked over my shoulder and saw the name Lisa Loveless. There was another girl in our sixth grade class named Lisa. (Not the same one as I knew in first grade.) The girl looking over my shoulder immediately picked up on what I had written, “Billy wants to marry Lisa! ” she teased. She even told Lisa (the sixth gradder) who was in the class who cringed with disgust when she heard it. Then a guy named James pointed out to everyone that we were just speculating who might have the books in the future. He said, “The Lisa Loveless who he has referred to is Billy’s little sister who is in Kindergarten right now.” He also pointed out the year 1980-1981.” The girl who caused all the fuss decided to just be quiet. All this commotion caught the attention of our teacher who had come back into the room by now. Mr. Wood made us erase all the names except our own.

Four Events Is Not Enough (Part 10 of 10)

In track I always ran the maximum number of events in a track meet that an individual could run, which was only four. I would have gladly done more. I loved them all. I concentrated on the 880 and that was my serious race, but the other events were just for fun. I did every running and field event from the 100 yard dash to the two-mile. I did the hurdles, in fact, Coach had never seen a person with more natural hurdling form than me. I did high jump, long jump, pole vault, discus, shot put and javelin. I even competed in the decathalon at one time. Once in time trials I ran against the person who would be our team’s fastest 440 runner that year. It was just for fun, but I jumped into the 440 time trials at the last minute. I beat everyone. I blew them away. Jim said to me after the race, “For every two steps I was taking, you took one step with your wide stride.” The high point of my high school career was taking second place and being presented with a trophy at the 800 meter race at the Utah State University high school invitational. I ended my high school running career by going to the state 4A track championship at BYU in the 880 in May of 1980. Despite numerous painful injuries, (sprained ankles, dislocated knees, pulled muscles) I thoroughly enjoyed myself and my track and cross country experience has always been a great source of satisfaction to me.

Coming Tomorrow: My Sister Lisa

Four Events Is Not Enough (Part 9 of 10)

After the Marathon, I took a week off running because I was so stiff and sore. I had difficulty moving anyplace. I felt like an old man. But I started running again a week later and really ran a lot in preparation for my junior year of cross country. Running ten miles a day was not at all uncommon. Getting up early to run was very hard, but I did it. I had wired a light switch right next to my bed. When the alarm went off at 4:00 in the morning, I’d flip the switch and it would light up an area of my wall that I could see as I laid there in bed. On the wall were some motivational sayings: “BE GLAD YOU CAN RUN, THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO CAN’T!” And “GET UP AND RUN, OR YOU’LL REGRET IT IN NOVEMBER.” (November was when the State Cross Country Meet was.) And also, “WRUNNING MAKES YOU WEIRD.”
When school started, Coach Tripp had his sign up again which the whole school could see. I was on the list finally. Coach also had another list, displayed just as prominently. This was our mileage for the week. I led the list with 75 miles that week. And it was my goal to be on the top of that list the whole season. I designed, collected money for, and ordered the team uniform that year and the next. But a few weeks into the school year, my shin splints had returned. In fact I could hardly run at all. I felt like I was crippled. I could barely walk when I would start a workout. Then gradually I burst through the pain in my legs and started a very slow jog. After a few moments of this I became numb to the pain and started to run faster. But this couldn’t go on! Coach Tripp recommended that I go see a podiatrist, Doctor Michael Lowe. Doctor Lowe was a runner himself, so I felt confident that he’d understand me. He watched me walk down the hallway and immediately saw my problem. He recommended that I buy a running shoe called New Balance, and then he took X-rays of my feet, took plaster molds of my feet, and then made some orthodics to insert into my shoes which corrected the wrong way I was walking and running. After I got the orthodics it took a few weeks for everything to get better, but after that I had no more major problems with shin splints for the rest of my running life. (In 2011, Dr. Lowe is still my podiatrist. I walk today because of him. And I still wear New Balance Shoes! Even my dress shoes are made by a company owned by New Balance.)
What more was there to do but go for quantity? I did well in cross country that year. I was always on the top seven of the cross country team after that.

Four Events Is Not Enough (Part 8 of 10)

With that miraculous healing of my legs, I began to train for the Deseret News Marathon in July of that year. One preparation was a half marathon in Ogden. Dad took me up there. I also took a scale and weighed myself before the race. During the race, I made it a point not to drink any liquid at the aid stations. After the race I weighed myself again. I had lost 13 pounds! As we got closer to the time for the Deseret News Marathon, I trained with my friends from cross country and track, Steve Allen, Phil Allen, and Bret Parker. We even stayed over one night at Bret’s house and we were going up in the early morning to run part of the Marathon course. But due to mechanical problems with the old jalopy that we were going to take, we never made it. The night before the actual marathon, we all slept in sleeping bags in my livingroom. Phil found out at the last minute that he couldn’t run, but took us up to the starting line in East Canyon. We started off together and ran like that for a while, but Bret pulled way ahead. He was very soon going on a mission and he wanted to do as well as he could. Steve and I ran together for a while longer, but I encouraged him to go on ahead, that I didn’t want to hold him back. Most of the 26 mile race retraced the trail of the final leg of the journey of the Mormon Pioneers into the Salt Lake Valley. It was hard to think of that historical significance, though. It was a hard race. At mile 13 I started to run downhill. I opened up and ran faster because gravity could help me. My legs cramped up when I did this, so I’d have to walk to feel better. I soon found that I needed to go slower so my legs wouldn’t cramp up. As we ran down through Emigration Canyon, people were off to the side of the road and offered to spray us with their water hoses. It sure felt good. At mile twenty, near the mouth of the canyon, I hit “the wall.” I had heard about this but never before experienced it. It was an over whelming feeling of stopping and quitting the race. I was also getting dizzy and I had difficulty staying on the road. I had a great desire to lay down on the ground, even in a rocky area. I knew that if I did, I’d never get up again. The next few miles I started to rally. And then I turned onto the parade route. I wasn’t prepared for what came next. The 200,000 people who lined the streets to see the parade were all cheering for me. I had chills down my spine. This was a great reward for finishing such a hard race. I ran as fast as I could. My legs didn’t cramp up and I ran the final miles of the marathon. I finally got to Liberty park and the finish line. I did it in four hours and fifteen minutes. Though I ran that same marathon a total of five times in the next ten years, my only faster time was the next year with a time of four hours and ten minutes.

Pictured above is the end of Vera's first marathon and it was my second.

Four Events Is Not Enough (Part 7 of 10)

I finished out the season doing primarily the 880, running two times around the track. I had to go see my doctor every year for him to sign a paper signifying that I was physically able to participate in high school sports. Doctor Wilkinson shock his head every time and said, “I don’t think they should let high school kids run the 440 and 880. Those are just too hard.” But he’d sign my paper anyway. The highlight of the year was to run in a big track meet at Weber State College. But by the end of my sophomore season I was in great pain from shin splints. I could hardly put weight on my right leg, it was so painful. I asked Dad for a blessing by the Priesthood. He put on his white shirt and tie and then took me in his room and closed the door. He anointed my head with consecrated oil and then gave me a blessing by authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood. He blessed me that my legs would get better according to my faith in Jesus Christ.
The next morning I got up very early and went to an early morning devotional for Cottonwood High School seminary. At an early morning devotional we usually had a speaker or something exciting like that. This was the last one of the year and it was a testimony meeting. I was one to go up to the pulpit and I waited my turn to use the microphone. When it was my turn I bore testimony of the power of the Priesthood. I told briefly of my difficulties with my legs and then how Dad had given me a blessing the night before. I said, “I am standing on my right leg right now and putting all my weight on it.”

Four Events Is Not Enough (Part 6 of 10)

The rest of the season was sort of anti-climatic after that. Sure, I blew every body away at time trials. I was the fastest 440 runner in the school, even ahead of the juniors and seniors. But my shin splints forced me not to run as much as I’d have liked. Our first individual track meet was against South High School, where both my parents had gone to school. A big black guy from South High came over to where our team was stretching out. “Wheh's Luv-less?” he yelled. I said I was him. “I’m gonna try and beat you today!” he said.
“I’m not running the 440 today. I’m running the two mile.”
He was disappointed. Everyone was disappointed. I was disappointed. Somehow I felt that the two mile would have been easier on my legs that day than the rapid and pounding 440. Hindsight tells me I should have just endured that and done it. Maybe I was just chickening out from the pressure. But Coach Tripp was never excited about me running the 440 again. I soon settled in and ran the 880. And every year it was that way. I watched other guys get all the glory in the 440, while I languished in the 880. And I knew I could beat all the runners in the 440. But Coach Tripp told me I was too valuable in the 880. But what he was really saying was, “You let me down when we desperately needed you in the 440.”