Sunday, June 10, 2012

Dear Kids,
           Today I’m uploading my letter from our stake center in Marion. Dad’s in a stake priesthood meeting (that started at 7:00 am,) and when it’s over, we have an appointment to have our temple recommends signed. If we were at home in West Valley, Dad would have walked to the priesthood meeting, and later we would have walked back to see the stake presidency, but here, distances are so far, that we drive everywhere together, and one of us waits for the other.
          This stake center is sort of historic, by the way. You kids probably don’t remember the Singer-Swapp shootout back in 1988. It started with the shooting of John Singer, a polygamist who lived in a compound in the hills behind here. One day when he went out to the road to get his mail, policemen tried to arrest him, and he ended up dead. A couple of weeks later, his family blew up this very stake center. Then, when the lawmen arrived, there was a shootout that ended up with policeman Fred House getting killed. (The police academy at the point of the mountain is named after him.) At the time, they were talking about Marion, and I wondered where it was. Now I’m sitting in the very stake center they blew up. (Rebuilt, of course.) That proves you never know where life will take you.
          Next Sunday is Fathers Day, and if you want to visit Dad in the afternoon or evening, we’ll be down in Orem visiting Grandpa Allen from about 4:30 to maybe 6:00, and after that, we’ll be back at the cabin. Of course you can call him on his cell any time. We’re in church from 11 am until 2:00, but the rest of the day, he’ll be available.
          My cabin projects are coming along very well. I finally planted the very last section of grass in the front yard, with the supervision of my friend, the meadowlark. I still have lots to do in the back yard, however, so he can keep watching my work. Inside the cabin, I’m still laying tile and spreading grout and painting walls and patching the ceiling. It’s all fun!
          Lots of love, Mom