The Food that Binds Us

Every Christmas Eve features the same menu of finger sandwiches, potato chips with onion dip, posole, and frappe. It has been this way for decades, since I was a little girl eating it at my Papa & Grammy's house, since before that when my mom was a teenager. An odd assortment of foods, any one of us will admit, but one that came together through the years of my grandparents' celebrations. Christmas Eve is not Christmas Eve without the spicy warmth of the red chili corn soup paired with the cool 7-up and sherbet beverage. Although the fillings of the sandwiches have changed over time, the eating of them has not. We all know what to expect for that evening's meal, and we look forward to it with taste buds, stomachs, and hearts.

This year, as I mixed the frappe in Grammy's punch bowl once again, memories flooded my mind. I learned how to make this holiday staple as a teenage girl, and I have made it every year since, whether in the kitchen on 1st South or the one on 15th North. I love it, but I only make it once a year. I wonder if it would taste the same in March or July. I doubt it. I think it has a special ingredient at this magical time.

Christmas morning, too, has its set menu items: steak, biscuits & gravy, eggs, and sausage. Regardless of the temperature, the manly men gather outside around the charcoal grill to cook the steaks, while the women prepare the remainder of the meal inside. My assignment has always been the gravy, mixing and whisking and seasoning until it is just right.

Christmas afternoon meant Grandma's house. Entering her little kitchen, warm from the fire, the smell of red chili and pork filled the air. I always hoped there would still be some chicharrones when I arrived. Her hugs and "Mija" greeting made the day complete.

Out of all the foods Christmastime brings, my favorite is divinity. Each year, I make a batch - or a double batch, depending on my cravings and desires to share:). It is a simple recipe of only five ingredients, but it is a tricky one to get just right. It takes time, and patience, and a meticulous following of the directions. Nevertheless, I find a clear, non-high-humidity day to make it. I make it, not only because it is a delectable little bite of heaven, but also because it honors my heritage. From Granny, to Grammy, to Mom, to me, it connects us in a way that nothing else does. When I create this concoction, I can feel the ties strengthening among these generations of women whose love for the white candy flows through our veins. As I boil and beat and beat and beat and beat and beat, waiting for the glossy sheen to lessen as an indicator that it is finally done, I talk to my predecessors: "Mom, please help this set up right... Grammy, do I need to beat it longer?... Granny, I don't know how you made this with a hand-beater and not electricity." I have even added another great woman to my list, my husband's grandmother. She, too, shared the love of divinity and mastered the making of it. "Beth, I wish you were here to taste this."

Dropping the spoonfuls onto waxed paper to set up, I feel arms around me, as warm and comforting as one of my Grandma's flour tortillas, hot off the wood stove. Arms that watch over and protect me from above, arms that once beat and beat and beat just like mine, to create a tradition, to keep that tradition, to preserve love.

And what comforts me most of all is that it really isn't just divinity or tortillas or posole or steak that binds us, here on earth or on the other side. What binds us, Suzanne-Mom-Grammy-Granny-Beth-Grandma, is something much stronger than the hard-ball stage of candy-making. What binds us comes from Him whose birth this season celebrates.

"And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst" (John chapter 6, verse 35).

He was born, He lived on this earth, He died on the cross, and He lives again. Because of this, we are bound together by more than memories and traditions and food. Because He lives, they live, too. Because He lives, we will all live again, together, exchanging recipes in heavenly kitchens...Recipes of Divinity.

Coach

I have had many coaches in my life, but only a couple who earned the lifelong title of "coach." It is rare to find that coach who earns that singular name. After I returned home from my mission, I had a desire to play basketball in college. Due to a few health complications, I was 23 before I tried to walk on to the local junior college. This is when I met my coach, Coach Zalenski. Back then NPC basketball was a very good program. Coach Z recruited very heavily in the Midwest and brought in some very good basketball players. I knew it would be very hard to make this team, much less be able to play. When I met the team prior to school starting and conditioning, I knew I was in trouble. I was a 6'5 post player who had played at Joseph City. Our best post player had just signed to play at a division 1 college. It was going to be tough. Coach Z pushed us very hard. During conditioning he pushed me far beyond what I believed my physical limitations were. We would go to the gym, play basketball for about two hours, then go on a run. The first day we had a timed run of 5 miles. I had never run that far in my life. I didn't think I could run that far, much less even meet the time. Along the way Coach would be waiting, checking names off his list. Surprisingly, to me, I made the run in time. A week later we were up early for our 10 mile run, again we had to complete it in time. I was a lot less surprised this time when I finished it. Even more surprisingly though was that I was starting to hold my own against Coach's big recruits. I started believing that I would make the team. When coach met with us individually to let I us know, I was very nervous. When it was my turn, Coach told me how surprised he was in telling me that I had made the team. I was very happy and very excited; my dream was coming true.

As the season progressed, we were a very resilient team. We became a team that refused to give up. We won 30 games that year and only lost 5. Two of our losses came in the last week of the season at the national championship tournament. Many times Coach would refuse to allow us to lose. He would will us to win. We were tied or behind in over 20 of our wins that year. Somehow, someway, we would find a way to win. One game that I remember was just after our Christmas break. We were playing Yavapai College in Prescott. With less than ten minutes left in this game and down by double digits, coach called time out. During the time out, he simply told us that we were going to win this game and this is how we would do it. Not only did we win the game, we won by double digits and cleared the bench. This is how our season went. Coach refused to allow us to quit or give up. There would always be a way to win the game.

After completing my two years at NPC, coach helped me get into two different schools and graduate college with a bachelors degree. He took a personal interest in all of his players. He would call us regularly. In 1998, Coach suffered a massive stroke, one that would not allow him to continue as a head coach. Two years later, NPC no longer would have a basketball program. Last week Coach passed away. While coach was recovering from his stroke, he never lost his sense of humor. He never lost his desire to coach again. He worked hard to help local kids have an opportunity to pursue a college education and play basketball. Coach never gave up. Whenever you talked to Coach, he would sincerely ask if there was any way that he could help. His life was about helping others.

Coach taught me many life lessons through basketball. One is you can only control two things: your effort and your attitude. Another is to never give up - there is always a way. He also taught me these with the way he lived his life, especially after his stroke. Another lesson was you can always be happy wherever you are, if you are happy with who you are.

When I think about our town of St. Johns, there are a few coaches I respect and admire, who I think earn this special title of "Coach." Win or lose, they teach the bigger picture of how to act in life. When I officiate or are around these teams, the respect for the coach is clear.

I am grateful for my coach, Coach Z, and for others who dedicate their lives to serving and building our younger generation.

Written by Paul Hancock

Lessons Learned While Turning My Nose Up

"But I'll never live in St. Johns" were the last words I mustered as we drove to the airport. 

 

You see, I had it all figured out- my life that is, until I didn't.  Let me rewind 10 years.....

I was set up on a blind date by my parents home teacher. (someone, who through my church, is assigned to make monthly visits, checks on the needs of the family, etc.)  I immediately turned my nose up  because Kasey wasn't 6'2" or taller (shallow, I know :()  While I was turning my nose up, he was doing the same thing.  He wanted a low key low maintenance kind of girl and didn't think that was me. Once he learned that I had a fishing license, he decided to take a chance.  So our first date was fishing, where this "high maintenance girl" out fished him 5 to none!  At that point he was 'hooked' and so was I. And almost a year to the day later, I married my 5'11" boyfriend. 

We had planned on staying in Provo, Utah until Kasey graduated from BYU.  Which is 10 miles away from my parents home- anyone that knows me, knows that I love my parents and didn't want to be any farther from them.  But, reluctantly, that wasn't in the cards for us.  You see, the Engineering Program at BYU is pretty fierce and the waiting list is even more daunting.  So we listened to that gut feeling, packed our bags and headed to BYU-I in Rexburg, Idaho.  While looking for an apartment, one of the first ones we looked at was Cougar Court Apartments.  I, once again, immediately turned my nose up.  Cougar Court sounded too much like BYU fan headquarters to me.  Although my husband is a die hard BYU fan, I am not.  University of Utah, anyone??  After searching and searching at the end of the day, Cougar Court is where we signed on the dotted line. 

 

Graduation day finally came with a job offer at the power plant in Kasey's home town of Kemmerer ,WY. A quick 2 hour drive to my hometown- I was sold. So we once again, we packed our bags and moved to Wyoming, to where we thought we would be the rest of our lives. 

When the power plant was purchased by another company, that meant new rules which included more hours, less pay and fewer benefits.  Then throw fertility issues into the mix and we were in a hot mess!  We were humbled, whether we wanted to be or not.  We knew that change had to happen.  That's when the call from TEP came.  We flew to Phoenix and made the drive to Round Valley.  I dropped Kasey off for his interview and I began scouring the mountain for living arrangements.  I think I drove up every street in Round Valley.  I fell in love.  The smell of the pine trees, two grocery stores, a Sonic :)! I got to the St. Johns city limit sign and flipped around.  I turned my nose up yet again.  While driving back to the airport, I gave Kasey specific details of Eagar and that's when I bluntly stated "but I will NEVER live in St. Johns!"

 

The job was offered and a home was purchased, in St. Johns.

 

I look back over the past 10 years and the best things that have happen to me are ALL of the ones that I initially turned my nose up to.  Ones that I had to let go of what I thought I wanted and go with my gut.  Ones that have molded me into the person that I am today. 

 

I couldn't ask for a better husband- Height has nothing to do with the character of a man.  He has taught to me always look for the good in people and to not focus on the negative or think the worse.

The experiences in my tiny 600 foot apartment solidified my marriage.  Neither of us could run home to mom and dad when problems arose.  We only had each other, that's who we had to turn to.  Living in married BYU housing truly taught me how blessed I was and am. 

 

And lastly St. Johns.  Boy, was I wrong.  If there was a town to define the phrase- 'Don't judge a book by the cover,' St. Johns would be it. 

I've never lived in a town where people are so genuinely concerned for the well being of others.  Bumping into someone at the store leads to conversations, not just a quick hello. I've strived to be a better person because of the examples of the good people of this town.

 

Opinions can't be based on appearances.  We need to look past- height, names, small towns, or whatever we are facing, to see the true character of what we are looking at.  I wonder, in my life, how many friendships weren't established or how many opportunities weren't experienced because I turned my nose up. 

Written by Holly Nelson

By Design

Sometimes my wife will catch me staring off into space with a blank look on my face and ask “rocks on the brain huh?” 95% of the time she is right. Being in the stone business I do think about rocks a lot. I notice stone everywhere. On a home or building, in a cut in on the side of the highway or off in a distant mesa - stone is everywhere. I can’t go anywhere without looking at stone. At first I thought it was a sickness now I understand it is, though it sounds silly at first, an awakening. It is an awareness of God that I never had before. I found it here in St. Johns.

Stone has a way of bonding past to present. People who have gone before leave their stories behind in stone for us to discover and enjoy. In our little town of Saint Johns we are surrounded by such monuments. I feel a certain reverence when looking at these old stone edifices. I am reminded of the hard work and sacrifice of those who came before us. I want to share a couple of my favorites.

In our Salado quarry south of town sits this old stone block. At some point long ago, someone tried to split this stone down to a workable size with a hand crank drill and steel feather wedges. Perhaps they were shaping stones to build a foundation for a new home, or perhaps they were looking for a slab with which to make a headstone. This probably took the better part of a day to get to this point, and, for whatever reason, they abandoned their purpose and left this block as it sits today.

This building sits down by the Little Colorado off Water Street. Somebody told me it was a grinding mill at one point. It may not seem like much until you think that each single stone placed in these walls literally took hours and hours to find, shape, transport, and set into place.

Once I hiked to an old site out by TEP with Wade Udall where we explored the remains of an old limestone kiln. The early settlers would haul small chunks of limestone from a nearby bluff to the kiln and heat them. The heated limestone could then be crushed by hand and mixed with sand to make the mortar which still holds the stones in place to this day.

This mini obelisk sits it the St. Johns Cemetery. It seems rough to our modern standards, but when you think of the time it took to go out, probably on foot or in wagon, miles from town, excavate a large stone with nothing more than a pry bar and shape it slowly, chip by chip, with a hammer and chisel - it changes. When you look at it through that lens, you can see it becomes a masterpiece.

Sometimes when we excavate stone from the earth I feel guilty. Sometimes it feels like we are undoing what it took an almighty creator thousands and thousands of years to beautify and position. In the process we have made many discoveries. Deep below the surface we have found layers of rippled sandstone, evidence of a sandy beach frozen in time. We have discovered small footprints of some ancient creature in between layers of sandstone - again frozen in time for us to discover. We have found impressions of ancient ferns and plants.

The colors are also amazing. Iron and other elements give each stone a unique character over time. I love to inspect each load of stone that comes in and see the unique quality. When the Nielsens drilled our well I remember watching the tailings of blue and purple sandstone emerge from hundreds of feet below. It made me think of all the beautiful things beneath our feet that we will never see. These are all testaments of an artistic and patient God who, in perfect order and natural harmony, created these for us to appreciate.

It is awesome to contemplate the ages of time that have produced every single stone. They have been beat upon relentlessly by water and wind. They have been heated and compressed, slowly shaped and perfected. There are no two exactly alike. I like to think that is the way God works with us.

Despite our increasingly godless world, stone in a simple way has shown me that divinity undeniably surrounds us. In everything, if we will take the time to notice, there is design.  

Written By Chuck Humpherys

Create an Echo

When I was growing up in St. Johns I was blessed to live two blocks away from my grandparents house. I remember spending a lot of time over at their home.  I loved it there.  As a matter of fact I loved it so much I started figuring and finding new quicker routes to their house, shaving off as much travel time as possible!  I found the fastest foot route was taking a short cut through Carl Herrings yard to an easement road behind Earl Patterson's house that headed north.  I would then follow that path to Jay Platt's house cutting right through his yard and arriving to the south side of my Grandparents lot.  I promise there was not one "No Trespassing" sign! I laugh to myself now to think of Mr. Herring and Mr. Platt peering out their windows at me and my brother just marching across their properties like we owned them!  Getting caught was a risk we were willing to take to cut off this extra 30 seconds of walking; it seemed so paramount at the time. When we would step foot on their lawn we would run for the back door and most times as we opened the door we breathed in the aroma of fresh baked bread.  I loved this as a young boy, I always knew there would be a jar of freshly made grape jelly.  I still remember my Grandmother cutting a slice of thick homemade bread and watching the steam release from the center.  She always smeared a healthy serving of butter on it that would disappear as quickly as it was spread from the heat.  When the butter had melted a spoonful of homemade grape jam finished off the master piece.  What a treat this was for all of her grandchildren.  I thoroughly enjoyed going to her house to play pool with my other cousins or go to the city park next to her home to play wiffle ball.  I also have fond memories of being taken care of when I was ill.  My Papa would bring a special TV to the end of the couch with a hot bowl of soup to eat which always made things "all better."  The peace and comfort I felt there was very desirable, it was in a sense like going to heaven.  I credit my Grandmother and Grandfather with teaching me how to work.  I vividly recall the scorching sun beating down on me as i picked up bucket after bucket of rocks out of their garden. I also remember using a push mower to mow their football field of a front lawn, which seemed to take hours.  They would always take take us for a coke afterwards out to the drugstore in the back by the pharmacy.  Times have changed since then for sure.   I was also blessed to have my other set of grandparents in SJ just another block away.  I loved eating my Grandma Nielsen's scrambled eggs.  They were the best!  I learned as I watched her prepare them, and today prepare them the same way for my own kids.  She always had a candy dish in the upper cupboards filled with cinnamon and butterscotch discs that we could earn for helping gather the eggs at the barn or other chores.  I still remember the old plum tree that was near their garden and picking and eating plums on my way to gather the eggs.  I still haven't eaten a plum that GOOD!  I loved playing on the homemade swings out in front of their house where we would spin in circles till we were sick.  It is amazing how much your memory has stored when you actually take time to ponder. The role of Grandparents in our society is so important, especially in our day.  With the cost of living going up and more couples having to work to support a household, Good Grandparents are needed more than ever.  They have lived enough life to be full of wisdom and knowledge and kids are often times more likely to take their advice over their own parents.  I am so grateful for the help my Grandparents gave to me.  I still have one left here in town, Grandma Nielsen, who i believe is the oldest person in town at 97 years old!  Grandparents are truly a blessing in our family circles.  It is the phase of life that we have the ability to make lasting impacts on our posterity.  I invite all to remember your own Grandparents and try to be like them.  Even if you weren't blessed with Grandparents close by or perhaps their lives were cut short, always remember you still have the power to be a caring, loving Grandparent to your grand kids.  As you take the time to share your lives with these kids they will listen and remember the many lessons taught and love shared, and it will create an echo throughout your posterity forever! An echo of love, peace and joy!  Grandparents are wonderful gifts of God!

A Few of the Great Men in My Life...

For anyone who has spent any time in St. Johns, you probably recall with fondness the holidays. For some reason, the Holidays become a great time for reflection on our own lives, on the lives of our families, and on the lives of those who have influenced us greatly. It seems like St. Johns is full of people who have influenced me in ways I’m not sure I can ever repay.

From the time I was a kid, Rob Roy Patterson played a significant role in my life.  Rob and His wife Diane are among my parents' very best friends. Their friendship parlayed into work opportunities on the ranch for me and my brothers and my three boys.  Rob Roy single-handedly managed a big cattle ranch and was involved in every intricacy. Maybe because I was a little more mechanically inclined, I was passed over for the fun jobs, like driving cows and working with young horses, and was picked instead to work on equipment and be involved directly with Rob working on mechanical things. Anybody who knows him knows he was not always a man of many words, and that the lunches he prepared off the back of his truck would never have passed any health department standards. I always thought that Rob Roy liked me, but when he would get after us, it was enough to put the fear of heaven and earth into the depths of our souls! However, after a long day of hunger and thirst and plenty of work, the ride home was usually filled with funny stories, a lot of laughter, and the redemptive confirmation that he really did like me and appreciated my efforts.  My love of machinery and taking care of it, my love of livestock and working with it all have their roots in what I learned from Rob Roy Patterson.

Another beacon in my life, and in the community, is Matt Montoya. I was a grown man before reason led me to realize that it was indeed possible for Matt not to smile. I don’t know if I have ever seen Matt without his big contagious smile. I have had the great blessing of knowing Matt all of my life and have had the privilege of working with him. Matt is one of the most successful businessmen ever in St. Johns. His success is the direct result of a great family, especially his wife Betty, who has contributed not only from the home, as a mother and wife, but also to the community in her work for Apache County. Because of the people that Matt and Betty have surrounded themselves with, they have been a great influence to many.

Matt’s influence has blessed my children’s lives, too. I will never forget attending a college football game in Flagstaff, Arizona. It was particularly sweet, because Afton Lambson was playing for NAU, and my youngest son, Josh, was playing for Southern Utah. They played together in high school and had a lot of success. At halftime, the crowd in the dome settled into a lull as the teams took the field to warm up for the second half. The lull was shattered with a loud “buh-yah” that anyone from St. Johns would immediately recognize as Matt’s rallying cry for the St. Johns High School football team. On this particular day, however, there were two college teams playing. Still, there were two responsive “buh-yah” yells from the field. What was special is that one came from the NAU sidelines and the other from the Southern Utah sidelines. Josh and Afton could not refrain from the familiar yell that is uniquely Matt Montoya’s - but that represents all of St. Johns.

The last person I have been reflecting upon is my Dad, Ted Raban. All of the men I have mentioned are great influences in my life. There are many more, too!  None, however, has been as great an influence on me as my Dad. My Dad was born and raised in St. Johns.  When he was courting my Mom, he brought her here to meet his family and visit his town.  She responded that it would be a great place to visit! Now, over 50 years, and six children later, their visit continues. My father has always been a steadying influence in mine and my siblings lives. He always respected us. Even in his discipline, there was an incredible amount of respect and love. I’m not sure that we ever went without monetary things, although I know that times were tough for his young family. We always felt like we had everything, and on top of that we were taught to love our community, and our faith, and our family. With my dad, there were no lines drawn around religion, or race, or status.  We were taught to love our neighbors, and in St. Johns, everyone was our neighbor. I am grateful for that.

Written by Jeff Raban
November 2013

A Change of Heart

I love St. Johns!

But it didn't begin that way.

Ted and I met at BYU, and, a short time later, he wanted to take me home to meet his parents. What delightful people. What a very nice visit.

On the way back to school, I said to Ted, "nice little town, but don't ever take me there to live." Well, we have lived here 53 years of our 58 married years, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

What a great town in which to raise your children. What a great place to love your relatives, friends, and neighbors.

Years ago, before SRP came in and saved our town that was too small and about to die, we could stop our vehicles in the middle of Main Street and have a conversation, for however long we wanted, and it wouldn't disrupt traffic at all. Those were the days!

And the friends and neighbors, they were like second parents. One of our children was across the street playing with friends and cut his hand quite badly. We weren't home at the moment, so the neighbors took him to the doctor who took care of him, stitches and all.

At one time, we needed to go to Phoenix and our older children said, "Mom, Dad, we are old enough to take care do ourselves. You can trust us." Well, we got a call in the wee hours from one of them saying, "We were out very late, got caught, and thought we had better call you and tell you about it before the neighbors do." Isn't that a great true story? I am telling you, this is a wonderful town.

Neighbors will pat you on the back at the slightest little good you do and actually let you help them when you can see help is needed. I can't even tell you how very many people in the big city have told us that they DON'T EVEN KNOW THEIR NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS.

What a huge attitude change this writer has had from "Don't ever take me there to live" to "I wouldn't trade it for any other place in the whole USA."

I love St. Johns.

~Julie Raban
November 2013

The best TREAT of all.....

This year we had the opportunity to spend Halloween with my parents, they were passing through town on their way to a funeral in Ramah, New Mexico.  This Halloween turned out to be extra special because my dad had brought a very special “treat” with him. He told me that years ago he had found some old 8 mm film at his mom’s house and his thought at the time was “ I better grab these before something happens to them and they get ruined or lost”. Well in my parents recent move to St. George, Utah the film was rediscovered. My dad had taken the film to Costco and had it transferred onto DVDs. My dad had brought the DVDs with him and we were able to sit and watch them together.

 Let me just give you a little bit of background on my family, my Great Great Great Grandfather Andrew Smith Gibbons was one of the first pioneer natives of St. Johns and my Grandfather John Elwood Gibbons was born and raised here in St. Johns.  As we watched the DVDs I got to see my grandfather who I have never met. He passed away when my dad the oldest of 4 children was only seven.  I have seen pictures of my grandfather but to see actual live footage of his life filmed right here in St. Johns was amazing. The film is from the late 1940’s and the 1950’s and contains footage of my grandfather and several other people from the community.

  My husband Ty and I were so intrigued by these old films we wanted to obtain more information about who the other individuals in the films were.  Last night we took the films over to Ted and Julie Raban’s house where we all watched them together. Ted Raban knew my grandfather and was one of his roommates at BYU so he was the first one I thought of when I was trying to figure out who could help me find out more information about these films. Ted and Julie Raban were able to identify Lee Waters, Ken Pulsipher, and Lavon Thurber in the videos. We have several other individuals that we think we may have identified but we are not positive. The footage on the videos contained old downtown Saint Johns, Main Street, and what is now the Pulispher house where my grandfather was born and raised.  It was so fun to sit there with Ted and Julie and see their faces as they watched these old films and hear some of the stories and memories that came rushing back.

  As I sat there with them, I was so thankful that I was able to experience these moments and hear some of these old time stories. It gave me a better understanding of my grandfather and the type of man that he was.  Before this experience, I never gave much thought to Family History, now it seems to be something that I can’t stop thinking about. It is so exciting to learn more about my family and my ties to the wonderful town of Saint Johns.  I am so thankful for people in our Community like, Ted and Julie Raban, who are willing to help me in my endeavors to do family history.  Without people like them, a lot of our family history and some of those precious stories would be lost.  Elder Boyd K. Packer said “No work is more of a protection to [us] than...genealogical research. ... No work is more spiritually refining. No work we do gives us more power. No work requires a higher standard of righteousness. Our labors...cover us with a shield and a protection.”  I am so thankful for the recent opportunity I was given to learn more about my grandfather and what a wonderful example he was to me.  I am looking forward to learning more about him and his life in the wonderful small town of Saint Johns Arizona.
Candice Gibbons Bond

My St. Johns' Connection

          I moved to St. Johns, AZ in 1993.  I was fresh out of college with a wife and a young daughter.  I moved here from Colorado not ever hearing of St. Johns or ever dreaming I would live outside of Colorado let alone in Arizona.  All I knew when I came here was they needed a history teacher and an assistant football coach. The only reason I knew of an open position was my supervising teacher in Colorado met Coach Morgan at a football camp the previous summer.  So that was my first St. Johns connection.  Before I moved here I found out my uncle had two brothers that lived in Springerville, AZ.  He told me from what he understood Elks and Redskins don’t get along too well on game day.  Living here, I am amazed how many people I know from all walks of life who know someone from St. Johns or have even heard of St. Johns, AZ.

          Over the last twenty years, I have been asked many times why St. Johns?  Why did you choose to stay in St. Johns and do you really like it?  The basketball teams I took to Mesa St. Camp in Grand Junction would always ask that after we traveled through the beautiful mountains between Dolores and Montrose, CO.  We would stay at my parents' house in Hotchkiss the night before the camp began and be treated to my mom’s warm hospitality and good cooking.  And again the question would be, “Why coach?"  This place is awesome.  I do have to admit that I get homesick for family, the farm, the mountains, and rivers that run up to your waist.  But it always feels good to be back home in St. Johns. 

          The main reason I feel at home is because of the people.  There is a connection here among the people that have made St. Johns their home that is unique and special.  I have seen that and felt it with people who have been here for generations and for those who have just moved into our little town.

          This connection was evident last Friday night.  Along with the Moultons, our neighbors across the street, we hosted a block party.  We invited people along our block and around the neighborhood.  It was great!  Where else can you have a fire in the middle of a dead end street?  We gathered together and broke bread and shared a part of an evening together.  The broken bread consisted of BBQ pork, homemade salsa and chips, and dutch-oven cobbler.  We visited, laughed and enjoyed the great food everybody brought.  Old acquaintances were renewed and new friends were made.  Our group came from different age groups, religions, and ethnic backgrounds.  Some have lived here their whole lives and others have just moved here.  My kids enjoyed the evening until the first firework went off and then it was time to go to the football game.

          After our evening, I reflected on some thoughts that came to me later that night.  We are all a child of God.  And He loves us.  One of our purposes here on Earth is to make and build relationships with others.  Just like any parent He is pleased when His children get along and serve one another and help in times of need.  When we gather together and find common ground and enjoy each other’s company and good will, it pleases Him.  Friday night was just another example of why I have stayed in and love living in St. Johns.  The other reason is what my son Coulson told me as we went to the football game.  He said, “Dad, you know why a small town is better than a big city?” I said “Lots of things, what do you think?”  And he replied “Because it doesn’t take long to get to a game.”  Amen.

Written By Brian Hollembeak
October 27, 2013

Parents...Progress...Prayer

This month is always busy for me as a teacher in the public schools.  Parent-Teacher conferences, or meetings with my students’ parents are scheduled for this week in October following the end of the first quarter of school.  Sometimes I am meeting parents or guardians for the first time, and Report Cards are printed and given to them in an attempt to sum up this kid’s educational performance.   It is a difficult meeting in that we have to squeeze a quarter’s worth of information into just a few minutes of time.  In an attempt to aid this process, I sent home a paper that could be filled out in advance and returned to me before the meeting, so that I could be better prepared and informed. The paper had questions listed on it like:  “How does your child feel about school?”  “What do you feel are your child’s strengths and weaknesses?”  “What questions do you have in particular about his/her progress?”etc.  I was hoping to receive them back with a few notes jotted down, but the result went beyond that.  It was fascinating and inspiring to see how parents approached these questions and how definitely positive they were in sharing their kids’ strengths. Many of the comments mentioned math or reading, but not all of the comments were strictly academic related.  Several took the time to write down how nice the child was, or what a good example they were at home.   Some expressed anxiety about friendships and social interactions.  One in particular expressed a wish to have their child realize how important all the choices they make in life are, and how they will add up in the future to become their character.  I was amazed at the adoration and admiration these parents have for their children.  I loved seeing the look of pride in their eyes as we visited about the accomplishments and goals for their futures. 

Today being Saturday, I finally felt like I had the chance to catch my breath as well as catch up on many other things at home.  As I was scrubbing my shower, I started thinking about being on my knees, which eventually got me thinking about praying…and ultimately pondering my current relationship with my Heavenly Father.  Crazy as it sounds, I was struck with the thought of, “what if Heavenly Father was scheduled for a “conference” about my progress here on Earth?  Suppose He had to fill out one on those question sheets about my strengths and weaknesses… or explain to a teacher my attitudes and beliefs about my lessons…What questions might He have about me…Have I checked in with him lately to ask for his help with my goals?” 

  Three years ago, this very week, my husband Spence was diagnosed with a pituitary tumor next to his brain.  Within that week’s time, he was scheduled and sent to surgery to have it removed.  I can’t even begin to explain the fear, humility, and shock we went through in those few days, but on the flipside I also can’t begin to express the power of prayer, peace and miracles that were sent our way either.  It was a rollercoaster of emotions to say the least, and all has worked out for us thus far.  My point in bringing it up, however, is that during those days in the hospital, while waiting and preparing for the surgery, my heart and soul were praying and pleading with God for his strength and healing power.  Most every minute, and hour I was praying to Him and seeking his guidance and comfort.  It just seemed that I needed the peace and assurance that only a Father can give. By the end of the week, we got to bring Spence home, and our prayers continued faithfully.  Our hearts and lives were filled with gratitude for the gift of life that had been restored.  I firmly resolved that not a day would go by that I would not eagerly and mindfully thank my Father in Heaven for my family and for each day I have with them…

Well here I am 3 years later, and although my prayer habit is not as frequent as it was that dreary week in October, my resolve and gratitude are still as strong.  I do know that I am a daughter of God and that he hears and answers prayers!  I know that He gave me life, and the power to direct my life.  I believe that He knows and understands my strengths and weaknesses, and that I am stronger when I struggle through trials. I know he rejoices with me in the good times and grieves with me during the bad.  I know he loves me and He is there for any of his children, and will be there as soon as He is invited in from the prayer in a heart.

 It is my hope that my report card/progress is always pleasing to my Father in Heaven.  I know he wants to be included in all of his children’s lives.   So if you haven’t conferenced with him lately, He is as close as a prayer…

Kirstin Udall

A Promise Kept

In our small community it is not unusual to see underage drivers helping out with trucks or equipment on the farm.My family is no exception. So when my husband Gerald asked my 11-year-old son Joey to go get the small tractor and drive it up from the field he got right to it. A few minutes later the poor boy came running to me with tears streaming down his face sobbing, “I hit Ina’s car!” While her car was still drivable, the damage was significant. Gerald was furious with Joey, I was angry at Gerald, and characteristically, Ina was not mad at anyone (only concerned about her nephew).

We called the insurance company right away. Our agent said there was no way our insurance would cover it. Ina’s agent said they could cover it but that the policy rates would increase 30%. We could not get them to work with us. The repairs, which we were determined to pay for, were going to cost us over $4,000. We had worked hard over the last few years to get out of debt, and we had succeeded. But we hadn’t saved anywhere near enough to pay the bill. It was going to have to go on the credit card.

We were so discouraged. We did not want to acquire more debt, but we had no other option. Then the scripture in Malachi came into my mind. “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse…and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shallnot be room enough to receive it.” We pay a full tithe, and we have “proven” the Lord before. I felt it was time to ask for a miracle. I prayed to Heavenly Father and said that we wanted to stay out of debt, that we paid our tithing, and that we needed a miracle. I told Him that I didn’t care how it came…if it meant lots of overtime for Gerald or lots of subbing jobs (LOTS of subbing jobs) for me, just that it came. I also told Gerald, “Just so you know, I’m praying for a miracle.”

The next day Gerald called me from work and said, “well you prayed for a miracle.” I expected him to say that he would be working the weekend and miss the trip we had planned, but he said, “I called our former insurance agent (who had relocated to Texas) and told him what was going on. He said ‘no, that’s not right’ and told me what we need to do and say so that Ina’s insurance will cover her car.” I was overcome with gratitude as we received the answer to prayer and our own little miracle. I know that some may argue that it was just coincidence, that we could have thought of this on our own, but I know better. I know that onceagain we have proven the Lord and the windows of Heaven have been opened.

Tawnya O. Wood

Who's Gonna Hero Up?

His first love was Nemo, then came Mater and Lightning McQueen, Buzz Lightyear and Woody. I can measure the years of my five-year-old's life by the characters he embraced at each age. He still holds a special place in his heart for the short-finned clown fish, and he sometimes plays with the Toy Story characters and the Cars' vehicles he has, but he is now, and I suspect forever, an avid superhero junkie.

As the lucky mom of a boy, I have learned more in the last year and a half about superheroes than I had ever learned in all my previous years. Let me share with you my top three lessons.

1) There is nothing complicated about a superhero's name and personality.
Spider-Man crawls around and can move like a spider, webs and all. The Hulk is hulky and smashes things. Superman is, well, super, with basically all powers to do anything and everything. The Green Lantern has a power ring and green lantern. Batman... okay, Batman is the exception here. You would think he could fly, but he can't. He is just a human with really neat toys that help him to defeat the bad guys.

I am a wife, a mom, a friend, a sister, an aunt, a neighbor. This is not complicated. Neither is the fact that I know how to be a wonder wife, a mega mom, a fantastic friend, a super sister, an amazing aunt, and a nifty neighbor. Now my challenge is to hero up (the Super Hero Squad theme song) and be what I know I can be. If Ironman can live up to his name and role, so can I.

2) Avengers Assemble! Superheroes accomplish much more when they work together.
Although they each have unique powers that you would think would sustain them individually, almost all of the characters have joined with a group to make them more powerful and indestructible.

When crisis, death, and sickness befall our community, I see heroes in the faces of the people of St. Johns. Heroes who are joining together to clean out a flooded basement, attend a funeral of a long-time resident, and bringing meals and hugs to families. Yet, we also band together in celebration. Weddings, births, fairs, parades, state championships... We laugh together. We cry together. We join together. It is when we see the best in each other and come together in common purpose that we become powerful and indestructible.

"Assembled we are strong, forever fight as one."

 

3) Superheroes have normal secret identities.
This is my favorite one. Who among us wouldn't love to change from just simple ol' me to a flying, golden lasso-wielding, laser-visioned alter ego with a simple costume change? Sign me up! My son puts on his Spider-Man costume and proceeds to climb walls. Really. It is something about seeing himself as something more. Peter Parker is a science nerd; Spider-Man is swinging around and conquering evil. Nobody knows that Superman is Clark Kent or that Wasp is Janet Van Dyne. It is magical to see a transformation from ordinary to extraordinary.

Let me break it to you. We are all something more. We all have secret identities. We all have an inner light that is inherent in us. We are sons and daughters of God. It isn't such a secret, but it does sometimes get hidden as we go about the busy, day-to-day lives we lead.

When we see in ourselves something more, something of divinity, we, too, can transform. I want to be the superhero my son thinks I am and that my husband tells me I am. I want to be like my Wonder-Woman mom, who was a wheelchair-bound human with powers to love, to serve, and to uplift everyone around her. She may have looked ordinary, perhaps even less to some, yet she embraced the light within her and let it shine to blinding proportions.

Who is going to hero up? I know I am going to try.

Right now, I will start by playing Avengers with my son.

City Boy Gone Country

For most of my life, I lived in the sprawling metropolis of Phoenix. I lived close to my family, attended school with the same group of friends, graduated from a large high school, and attended college and the police academy. Never once did I think I would move to St. Johns, Arizona. Heck, I did not even know where it was, until my family decided that it was time to relocate after retirement. Before my father and stepmother could relocate, I did. I beat them up the mountain by almost two years. I remember arriving in St. Johns and immediately noticing that there were no stoplights. I drove through town. It was a quick trip. I drove through it again to make sure that I did not miss anything. My grandparents came up to help me look for a place to live after I was hired by the Sheriff’s Office. I could not find a place to live, so I found myself living in a camp trailer for almost two years in Moon Meadows. Needless to say, I will only sleep or stay in a camp trailer for a few days at most from this point forward.

Being the new person in town, I was the talk of the town. I quickly made friends. I learned about small towns, where high school sports are one of the most important events in town. I thought I was happy and content as a bachelor, but then I found a firefighter/EMT that caught my eye, Raven. She played hard to get and tried to hide in the fire station. Had it not been for a friend of Raven’s opening that door, we might not have dated. We went on a date. For whatever reason, we did not date again for a long period of time. After a death investigation, Raven asked me to lunch again. The rest is history. We eventually married. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would marry. By this time, I thought I had known all of the big families in St. Johns; however, I quickly learned that Raven was related to half of the town. I have to say that it is nice having a large extended family and living in a small town, where everyone is willing to help each other, something that is not very common in Phoenix.

After we married, I decided to start my investigation into a church that I had heard about while living in St. Johns, the Mormon church. I remember sneaking over to Paul and Suzanne’s to take the missionary lessons while Raven was at work. Finally, in a moment of truth, I asked Raven what she thought about me taking the lessons. She was excited about it and started attending with me at Paul and Suzanne’s. I reached the date of my baptism. I remember telling the missionaries to make sure that the baptismal font was warm and that the coveralls better not be see-through. Needless to say, the water was ice cold. The Relief Society room was packed with people who cared about me and Raven. Never did I think that I would join a church. However, I knew that it was right.

After my baptism, Raven and I have started to attend church on a regular basis. Time was not wasted; the first calling to serve came and then the second. Raven and I have grown so much. Now we prepare for the next chapter of our lives as we eagerly await our first child. We continue down the path. I have received the Priesthood. I have had the privilege to be a part of several blessings. The feelings are profound. I don’t even know how to describe the feelings appropriately. As we continue our journey, I know that families are eternal. I look forward to the future here in this town. There is not a minute that goes by that I am not grateful for moving from the sprawling desert valley of Phoenix to St. Johns.

Written By Lance Spivey
 

Henry Has Poop!!!!

     Homer Simpson the famous Father from the longest running cartoon TV series, "The Simpsons" portrays the accepted depiction of the American Dad.... bald, beer belly, rude and dumb!  I've always taken offence to this degrading portrayal.  I will be the first to admit that this stereotype is accurate to many Fathers and at times all of us men have our off days when we may act a little like Homer, but more often than not the Good qualities of Good Fathers shine through! I had an awesome experience this past week with a truly awesome Father.  With his permission, I will share my experience.  Friday morning i fired up my quad and drove up the hill a few blocks to Mike Sundahls house to visit with him regarding some business he was helping me with.  Mike Sundahl for those of you who haven't had the opportunity of meeting him is married to Maren Platt daughter of Jay and Trish Platt.  Mike moved to town probably 6 years ago if I had to guess, anyway over the years I've gotten to know Mike better and better.  He has a lot of good qualities but i would like to talk a little bit about his example as a father, and how important being a good dad seems to be to him.  He has demonstrated through his actions, the love he has for his three little kids, and how important spending time with them is to him. I have observed this quality in Mike in many circumstances and settings.  When I spoke with Mike the night before on the phone he was at Dollar General buying new undies for his little boy Henry. He let me know that Henry was starting to potty train.  So when i parked my quad, walked to the door and knocked i was greeted by Mike and Maren's oldest Lucy.  I poked my head inside and looked to the left and saw Henry stretched out in his new underwear watching TV.  Mike came around the corner and said, "Henry are you dry?" To which Henry shook his head yes.  Mike informed me that Maren was in the valley for a couple days and he was doing the Potty Training till his wife got back.  This in itself is impressive to me, but even more impressive... Mike is in the middle of a huge renovation project and has been going full bore and still took the time off to spend with his kids Friday while his wife was in Phoenix.  Come on guys lets all admit it now, given the same circumstances having your heart set on building a new front porch and your wife is heading to phoenix, we all would have been like, "honey you are taking the kids with you, I have work to do!"  So Mike and I ended up visiting for like ten minutes out on his soon to be front porch about all of his plans for his completed renovations.  Like the pattern of all visiting, we started meandering towards my quad while finishing up our conversation. Just before i climbed onto my four-wheeler Lucy hit the front door like a bolt of lightning and squalled, "Henry has poop in his new underwear DAD!" Mike was her instant thunder as he instantaneously reacted with a sprint to the house to solve the problem.  I know to many of you this may seem small but to me it's HUGE!  What an awesome dad, cleaning poop up!! Way to go Mike! And always making time for his kids.  There are many men of this caliber that live here in SJ.  I salute all the good fathers and husbands out there in our community. Thanks for making SJ a great place to be.      
     Many of us create to do lists to remind us of things we want to accomplish. But people rarely have to be lists. Why? To do’s are activities or events that can be checked off the list when done. To be, however, is never done. You can’t earn checkmarks with to be’s. I can take my wife out for a lovely evening this Friday, which is a to do. But being a good husband is not an event; it needs to be part of my nature—my character, or who I am. Lynn G. Robbins
This talk was delivered by Lynn G. Robbins, "What Manner of Men and Women ought ye to BE?" in a LDS conference in April 2011. It has changed my life for the better, and helped me become a better husband and father.  I would recommend reading it.  No matter what our religious preference we have chosen to worship God, this message will change your perspectives in a positive manner and create stronger desires to DO the things in our community, marriages, and families that will help us BECOME a happier society, BE more harmonious in our relationships, and most importantly BECOME immovable Father figures in our families!  We can and will become men and women and children of strong character by doing right and choosing goodness!  

Live Like You Were Dying

When I think about the kind of people we have in our small community of St. Johns, it reminds me of a story I once heard about an old farmer who, with shovel in hand, was standing at the edge of the road irrigating his field, when a young man with his family pulled their vehicle over to the side of his field. The farmer walked over to see if they needed any direction or if he could help them in any way. As he approached the open window of the car, the father of the family said hello and then told the farmer they were thinking of moving into this small community and then asked the farmer what the people who lived here were like. With just a moment's thought, the farmer replied, "What kind of people lived in the town you just moved from?"

I have lived here 53 years, and I have seen many good times. But as everyone knows, we are without a doubt going to go through some hard times as well.

I am going to try to explain where I am going with this.

We have Heap reunions, Crosby reunions, and family gatherings where we have our children and grandchildren come. We bless babies and watch over our families.

Then something happens. Someone close to us loses a loved one, a son in his teens or an only child. It is hard to be around your friends when their hearts are broken. You feel like no matter what you say, their spirits can't be lifted. I was in a heartbroken home and watched as friends from all over town came to their home with food and love and concern for the parents who had lost their young child.

We can gain many good experiences when our lives are going well, but on the other hand, when tragedy enters our lives, we can have the opportunity to learn and grow strong if we will rely on our Heavenly Father. We can gain the knowledge that He is with us and will be by our side through our hard times, just as our friends and family are.

All we have to do is ask for His help, and He will give it.

It has boosted my faith to watch my friends and family in hard times and good times here in this small community.

I would like to add one more experience that I will remember for the rest of my life.

I have a good friend whose name is Lee Jaramillo. Like myself, he has lived in this community all his life. He has served his country in the military. His wife's name was Delores. I didn't know Delores as well as I know Lee until I attended her funeral. Sounds interesting that I could learn something about someone at their funeral, but I did, and it was a very memorable moment for me. She was one of those unfortunate loved ones here in our town who passed away because of cancer. She fought it for some time, but she lived long enough to write her own eulogy.

Hearing it was quite an experience. She stated how much she loved this town and all the people in it and said that no matter who you were, when hard times or something terrible happens, that the town will be there to help and lift each other. She was the type of person that makes this little town what it really is.

Tim McGraw sings that he hopes that we can have the chance to live like we were dying. If we knew today might be our last, we might realize how short life really is and be a better person.

I know that when adversity comes my way, I will be able to rely on my family, my friends, and uppermost, my Heavenly Father.

Jeff Raban
September 15, 2013

Families are like fudge…. Mostly sweet, with a few nuts.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions for me and my family.  My parents who have lived in Ramah, New Mexico for the past 25 years have retired and moved to St. George Utah.  As we helped them pack and load the moving truck at the house where I grew up, a flood of memories came rushing back to me. This was the house that I grew up in, laughed in, cried in, and shared many wonderful memories . It was very bittersweet for me that my parents would no longer be living in this house and that it would soon be occupied by strangers.  As my two brothers and I helped my parents last week I couldn’t help but think how fortunate I am to have such a good family. Despite any differences we may have, I always know no matter what I have my family and they will always be there for me. As I reflected on all of this I couldn’t help but think of how lucky I am as an individual. I have been blessed with a wonderful husband and two beautiful daughters. Our youngest Kinlee, joined our family in July. As I hold her and look into her eyes I am reminded of how precious life is and how we should never take one moment for granted. It seems like just yesterday I was holding Paislee in my arms, now she is a rowdy two-year old who never seems to run out of energy.  This past Sunday we were able to bless Kinlee at church. We had a family gathering afterwards and although it was crazy with 30 people in my house at one time, it was great to be together as a “family”. Growing up in a big family there is never a dull moment, with 2 brothers and 2 sisters there always seems to be some kind of excitement or “drama” as my husband would like to call it. My oldest brother David and I often like to place bets on which one of the siblings the “drama” will be with when we have family gatherings. Most of the time we put our money on my oldest sister Aubrey and my youngest brother John.  When we all get together we laugh, fight, tell stories, make fun of each other, and most often someone (usually my sister Melodie) ends up crying. Despite it all each of us knows that it is all fun and games and that we all love each other and would do anything for each other. As I look at my family and Ty’s family although our families are different in many ways, at the end of the day the love and dedication that our families have to one another is the same.  Although there may be days where we drive each other nuts or don’t see eye to eye, we are still “families”. So to sum it all up I feel that this quote says it all, “Families are like fudge… mostly sweet, with a few nuts”.  I am so thankful to God for blessing me the wonderful family that I have. Take time and spend it with your family, build memories that will last a lifetime.  For me there is no place I would rather be, than with my family.

  

Candice Bond