Finding Balance - Julie Beck

I have to save this link. It helps to listen to it often.
http://mormonchannel.org/programs/relief-society-episode-19?lang=eng

Familly History Dad

This morning I was listening to a talk by Dallin Oaks about Tolerance. The word “tolerance” immediately made me think of my father. And then I wondered how many other people would associate that quality with my dad.

My father was Ernest Floyd Evans and was born in Atlanta, Georgia in 1905. There are a lot of things I don’t know about him. I know that he was raised without a mother after he was five years old, that his father was reputed to be a hard and abusive man, and that he loved his Granny Yarborough. I don’t know who his heroes and good examples were, but I do know that he was good and kind and very intelligent.

My father was raised in Georgia in a somewhat impoverished family. From what I have read, it seems that most of the people in the south didn’t view Negroes as humans equal to themselves. The southern poor, who were often mistreated because of their insignificant economic status, would sometimes relish the opportunity to mistreat others of lesser status. It was what they taught their children and the way most of them lived their lives. My father did not share that view. From everything I have observed and heard about my father, he was always kind and accepting of others. Tolerant, yes. But kind too.

Being the youngest of six children and born when my father was forty-three years old, I probably had different parents than my siblings, just in view of the fact that they were all born to much younger parents. Most of the remembrances of my family members occurred before I was born. They remembered living in California, knew cousins I didn’t know, lived on streets I’d never seen and talked about pets and friends who were gone from their lives before I even came to earth. But I’m pretty sure that we all shared a dad who was patient, kind, gentle, soft-spoken and loving.

My father seemed to be a contradiction of himself. He was a southern boy from an impoverished background, raised without a mother by an abusive father , and was taken out of school after the 8^th grade. Yet he had no sign of a southern accent, spoke with perfect grammar, had an extensive vocabulary, was well read, and exemplified goodness and morality. Daddy treasured books and learning, enjoyed all kinds of music and poetry and taught himself to be an artist. He painted (I have a painting he did of a Hawaiian girl in the moonlight), carved (an ebony figure of my mother, though I have no idea what happened to it), and played a horn while he was in the Marines. Eventually, he started his own business called Evans Signs.

My dad didn’t yell unless you were far enough away that it was required to make himself heard. I was telling someone the other day about a teen who had let their dad’s brand new, hard-earned pickup truck roll over a cliff – due to his youthful lack of experience and forward thinking. The father didn’t say anything at all when his son came in appalled and mortified that he had done the unthinkable and began pouring out apologies. After several minutes, without removing the newspaper from in front of his face, the father said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to take the old car.” My friend commented that the father had learned to have amazing control over his anger. Then I realized that he didn’t have any anger that needed control. The father may have been disappointed and somewhat shocked, and he was probably tired and frustrated. However he put himself in his son’s place, realizing he was already suffering overwhelming remorse. He also knew that there was nothing he could do or say that would undo the terrible event. So, he acted with compassion for his son. That man could easily have been my father. That’s what Daddy would have done.

There were many years of my childhood that Daddy worked at home. He created advertising designs and plans. These were then displayed in various ways. Sometimes he fashioned them into physical structures that were on giant billboards along the highways, or spread across entire store fronts, or hung in front of establishments to publicize and promote their businesses. He also painted advertising on trucks, vans, etc., and lettered names and titles on the glass entry doors of banks, legal offices, medical offices and such. Sometimes he did the names and titles in “gold leaf” if the customer wanted to be recognized as high-class and sophisticated. This required a very special technique and was delicate work, using very thin sheets of real gold. I remember watching Daddy do this and he explained to me that you couldn’t touch the gold leaf sheets with your hand because it was so thin the natural body heat would melt it onto your fingers. It came pressed between sheets of paper and when the surface was prepared, Daddy would pick it up and apply it using static electricity in a wide, flat brush. It required meticulous effort and skill because any mistakes were not only time-consuming but very expensive to re-do.

Daddy would first make a sketch of the desired project. Then he would bring it up to size. That could be anything from one or two feet wide to sixty feet wide. Next he would make a pattern out of paper and put holes through it with a tracing wheel and affix it to the surface to be painted. He then took a pounce bag (a cloth bag filled with a fine charcoal dust) and struck it against the perforations to transfer the pattern. (Oh, I posted this before it was finished. I'll have to add to it.)

Most of my life I called my father Daddy. After I got married, I sometimes called him Papa. I know that Daddy’s favorite sport to play was soccer. He also enjoyed going to baseball games and he and Mama would watch the Friday Night Fights (boxing) on TV. I knew who Gene Fullmer was (a boxing champion from Utah) when I was quite young and was thrilled to meet him at a youth fireside once.

Mom and Daddy used to go to dances when they were young and they would occasionally put on old records and dance at home. This was “their song” and when I listen to it again I can see Momma and Daddy dancing around the living room and I get all misty eyed. I realize that despite our family’s flaws and faults, I come from a heritage where husbands and wives have loved each other. (If you google it and you can hear how it goes.)

Title: Al Jolson - The Anniversary Song


Oh, how we danced on the night we were wed
We vowed our true love, though a word wasn't said
The world was in bloom, there were stars in the skies
Except for the few that were there in your eyes

Dear, as I held you close in my arms
Angels were singing a hymn to your charms
Two hearts gently beating, murmuring low
"Darling, I love you so"

The night seemed to fade into blossoming dawn
The sun shone anew but the dance lingered on
Could we but recall that sweet moment sublime
We'd find that our love is unaltered by time

------ instrumental break ------

Darling, I love you so

The night seemed to fade into blossoming dawn
The sun shone anew but the dance lingered on
Could we but recall that sweet moment sublime
We'd find that our love is unaltered by time

I don’t remember my dad ever getting angry and losing his temper. I remember that he was angry with me once (which I entirely deserved) but he never lost his temper. I had disobeyed my parents and taken the car out of American Fork. I got a flat tire that I did not know how to change. It was about 11:00 p.m., winter and about fifteen degrees below zero.I called and asked Daddy if he would get up, out of bed, and come change the tire. Then I asked him not to tell Mom because I knew that she would be sure that I was punished to the n^th degree. He never yelled. He didn’t say anything at all. However I knew that he was angry and very, VERY, disappointed that I would be so disobedient, selfish, and inconsiderate. Feeling my dad’s disapproval and disappointment was terrible. I knew that I didn’t want to experience that feeling again.

My mom and dad did not go to movies. I’m not sure why. When Dr. Zhivago came out, someone (I think it was my brother Bud) talked them into going to see it. They loved it and went out and bought the sound track. Daddy loved the music and played it again and again. I was just 16 at the time and thought the story was too sad and depressing – about war and all. But I did like the music. As far as I can remember, mom and dad never went to see another movie.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=H-JkNUSraPY

Yesterday was a full day! I got up and went to exercise. Then David and I went to meet Christian, Leslie, Britt and Annika at the Lightrail to go over to the Arizona Science Center in Phoenix to see the Body World exhibit. Actually, David and I weren't going to go into the exhibit because it was too expensive and we had seen the exhibit several years earlier in NYC, but we were allowed to enter the Science Center on Leslie's membership and then we got a senior citizen discount and so it ended up costing us only $23. Since Lynn had given us $50 for lunch yesterday, we figured we had enough money to go in and spend more time with some people that we dearly love.

It was really lots of fun. The exhibit was amazing (though kind of crowded since it is Spring Break), and a bit "newer-looking" than the exhibit we saw in New York. (Small bits hadn't fallen to the bottom of the case enclosing the object being exhibited as we sometimes saw in NYC.) But it was all absolutely fascinating - even the second time around. And it was lots of fun sharing it with Christian and family. After we came out, Leslie shared the picnic lunch she had packed. It was perfect. Apples, cheese, carrot sticks, trail mix, grapes, blackberries, bananas, and peanut butter pretzels with nutella to dip them in! (Just enough for us all to have 2 or 3 pretzels each - but Britt cleaned the nutella container out with her finger and licking it off after we were all through. A girl after my own heart!)

Since David and I hadn't really planned to see Body World, we thought we would be home in plenty of time to get ready for the temple. We realized we would have to hurry to get there in time if we left right away. Christian and Leslie and Annika wanted to stay and do more Science Center. Britt decided to come home with us.

There is a billboard sign that we could see when riding the light rail that says, "Save the date." (picture of little box with check in it) "Christ is coming, May 21, 2011"
Who told them? Is President Monson keeping a secret from us, but telling other people? Yeah, right! Well, I expect to be around then. I wouldn't mind it at all if Jesus Christ came then and I'm sure there are a lot of people who would be very glad to see him.

David and I got home just barely in time to get ready. He really needed a haircut to look all neat and tidy for the temple, but there just wasn't time. (Don't worry, he looked all handsome and dignified in his "temple whites.") I sure like working in the baptistry. It just feels so good to be there and our coordinators - Bro. and Sis. Agle - are such great people. I just love it! We got home, got into our jammies and fell asleep in our recliners. We woke up and went to bed some time before midnight.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!

This day is significant for a better reason, however. It is Anna Christine's birthday. She would be 30 years old today. Can you believe it?

It has been a good day. David and I went over to Glendale to pick up a commissions check and then we went to lunch (thanks to Lynn Cash). When we got home, we got a floral delivery. It was a gorgeous bouquet in pinks in honor of Anna Christine from her little sister, Anna Joy. I was touched and pleased and overwhelmed.

I had to take pictures of the bouquet and post them on my blog so everyone could see them (especially you, Anna!) I love them!

Notice the butterfly decoration?
These pink baby roses are just beautiful! And the pink lily and the little pink tiger lily with all the baby's breath compliment them so perfectly.
This shot is to show you what it looks like altogether (from one angle).
Here it is from another side. (The Gerber daisies are really a deep pink-red, not the scarlet color that they appear to be on this blog.)

Wow! Weeks fly by!! And I have nothing to say right now but I am really tired and am going to bed now. I love you all.
I'm grateful to have a bed. And I'm grateful for pain killers. Nothing beets 'em when you really need 'em.

Poor Me!

Don't get excited. I haven't actually come back from the dead (although that's pretty close to how I feel - with a few question marks after "come back"). I am sick of having messed up sinuses and a shoulder that doesn't really work and has to be babied. I've been on an emotional roller coaster with David's heart problems and have dug into some questions about my mother. I cry at the drop of a hat and that keeps my sinuses inflamed and sore.

I feel like I can complain here because nobody ever looks here because I never write anything.

Maybe tomorrow I will start a gratitude blog.