The Place I Come Back To

Well, it’s happened. My family has moved back to my dad’s hometown in Arizona. They’re currently renting my great aunt’s house. This week my dad will be driving my brother Carl out to college at BYU-Idaho. In the meantime I’m still be here in Utah. Some people have asked whether or not I will be going to live in Arizona with my folks. The answer to that is, right now, no. I don’t want to go down there until I have a car and I’m able to get a job and live on my own. Which, right now, is kind of a tall order. But that’s my goal and I want to stick to it.

In any case, I am happy that my immediate family is in Arizona now. They’re now an 8-10 hour drive away from me (and my mom’s relatives) instead of 20+ hours.

LDS Temple Pictures

This is the first time my whole family has moved. Up until now, my family has lived in one place, and moving was something other people did. My dad is from Taylor and we visit a lot, but when you go live somewhere it’s a lot different from visiting.  When you move, you have to rebuild your whole support network--who provides your medical care, your dental care, where’s your library, your school, your teachers, your groceries, your gas. The day-to-day things you don’t worry about when you’re on vacation. One perk of living in Taylor is that we get to interact every day with aunts, uncles, cousins, and second-and-third cousins. Some of them even live on our street. We get to help take care of our grandma, too. We could walk to her house if we had all the time in the world, I’m sure, but it’s a 1-2 minute drive to get anywhere usually. Neighbors and friends that we are not related to will come soon enough. For now, Taylor feels more like home because there’s more family, and more people of our faith.

Taylor is also home in the sense that we’re descended from the first group of Mormon settlers who came there. It was where my Shumway great-grandparents raised their family, and it was where my paternal grandparents decided to raise their family. So it’s where my dad’s side of the family gathers, and while we have a few of us living there right now, those who live down in Mesa/Gilbert will come up on weekends. My family used to go out there at least once a year to visit everyone.

What makes Taylor home to me is that I went to live there for a year when I was in high school. I was...in a really bad place emotionally when I was in high school. My parents hoped that sending me out there would help me. My army cousins were staying with my grandparents for the school year, so I joined them. I went there to do high school orchestra and release-time seminary. I took a lot of honors/advanced classes, and I was at Snowflake for the last year that Ms. Cunningham taught English there. I went there to befriend more Mormons, and I did achieve that, but in that setting I was also more comfortable in befriending non-Mormons: the differences just kind of melted away. I even got to go to the freaking prom! I had a lot of experiences and learned a lot of things that I would never have had otherwise.

pocogrande.com

Taylor/Snowflake reminds me of the Shire in the Lord of the Rings. Probably because my cousins had a mixtape of movie soundtrack themes that included “Concerning Hobbits” and it would get played every so often as we drove back and forth. There’s a few partly underground houses, and lots of irrigated green fields and livestock. It’s one of those communities that’s tight-knit and doesn’t get out much.

Technically, Snowflake was named after a guy named Snow and a guy named Flake. But yes, it does snow there. It’s about 5000 feet above sea level so it’s a higher altitude and cooler climate anyway. But the year I lived in Taylor was my first real exposure to snow. During winter semester there were two separate occasions where the school opened late because of snowy conditions, and then the ice would linger in the courtyard for weeks while everything else melted.

Snowflake also has an LDS temple. It was the second one built in Arizona, long before Gilbert or Phoenix or the other new ones besides Mesa.

Did I mention the happy little spot in between Taylor and Snowflake known as Bellybutton?

Weaver's Needle, Paint Your Landscape

During the summer, Snowflake and Taylor are about the two sleepiest small towns anywhere. But during the school year, if you’re involved in school and community stuff and church stuff you will be so busy you can’t even see straight.

When you move somewhere, there are things you do have to give up, but you get good things in their place.

Living in Taylor is great, don’t get me wrong, but it gets even better if you can get out of town every once in awhile and see the country, because you are within a driving distance of some of the great natural landmarks of the West. Even a short drive to one of the other locales like Heber, Show Low, or Holbrook will take you through prairies decorated with junipers, past mountains and buttes and extinct volcanoes, across spectacular deserts, and into beautiful forests. It’s only a thirty-minute drive to the Petrified Forest National Park. The Grand Canyon is a day trip away. And if my family is going back and forth more between Arizona and Utah, that may mean more visits to other national parks in Southern Utah--at least I’d like to think that.

Painted Desert, Personal Photo

Holbrook is the town directly to the north of Snowflake by about thirty minutes of driving. Between the outskirts of both towns it is one of the straightest roads you will ever drive on. Holbrook is where my grandma’s brother Drew settled and raised his family, and I’ve been back there a few times to go visit my great aunt Joan. I also went horsebacking there with some of my cousins one time. Holbrook you may have heard of as one of the places that inspired Radiator Springs in Disney/Pixar’s Cars--the Wigwam Motel is still there. Driving to Holbrook is fun because you pass landmarks such as the Chocolate Cake and Woodruff Butte. Holbrook High School is where I auditioned for orchestra regionals and scored a 29 on the ACT. But mostly it’s the place you have to get through to get anywhere else if you’re going north.

Flagstaff. Darn, I love Flagstaff. When I lived in Taylor, I went to a college recruiting fair at their high school. About four years ago, I waited for my cousin and my brother to pick me up at the Barnes and Noble when I came down to Taylor for Christmas. Years and years ago my family stopped to visit Sunset Crater--the pine trees smelled so good, I’d buy a candle that smelled like that.

Perhaps my favorite drive in the world is US 89 between Flagstaff and Kanab, Utah. You climb down from the forests in Flagstaff onto the Navajo Indian Reservation. Going to Page is fun in its own way. But I LOVE taking the Alternate, because 89-A goes past the Vermillion Cliffs, and Navajo Bridge. I love stopping to walk over Navajo Bridge. My family kept a picture of the rock formation I call “Castle Rock”  on our living room wall back in our home in Texas, along with photos taken at the bottom of the Grand Canyon when my dad would go hiking there with his family. Once we stopped at Lee’s Ferry and I almost caught I fish with my bare hands.  

A Fish like Thish? Yesh. (Pinterest)

After Marble Canyon, you go up a big, big hill to Jacob Lake--the view is spectacular. Jacob Lake is a favorite stop for my family when we drive between Arizona and Utah. It’s the turnoff to the Grand Canyon, but I’ve only been there with my folks once--that end with me and my siblings having temper tantrums because we couldn’t stop for souvenirs, but if it wasn’t that I don’t want to remember what it was.

Sometimes my family will get to Utah by going east from Holbrook and taking US 6/191 Northward. We go through Ganado and Mexican Water and we’ve only ever stopped in Chinle once. It goes right through the heart of the country that Tony Hillerman writes about in his Leaphorn and Chee mysteries, so next time I drive through I swear I will pay more attention.

Going south from Taylor, you hit Show Low/Pinetop/Lakeside, which is where you used to go to Walmart before the mini Walmart was built in Taylor. Back when I lived there, going to Show Low was a day trip, but now with Mom working there I imagine we’ll be spending a lot of time in Show Low.

Heading down through Heber, between Heber and Payson is the Mogollon Rim. If you watch carefully, you can glimpse Four Peaks while you’re heading down the mountain. The Rim is also where my dad proposed to my mom--rumor has it he would have jumped if she said no.

My uncle Mike has a cabin belonging to his wife’s family down in Christopher Creek. My dad’s family had a reunion there once, and in winter there are nice spots to go sledding nearby. When I did my first year of girls’ camp, I went with my aunt and cousin to Camp LoMia up by Payson.

Woods by the Palmer cabin, Personal Photo

When my siblings and I were younger, we would go out to Mesa to spend the summers with our cousins. Those were the best times--swimming pools, trampolines, and all the cable TV we could stand. I was there long enough that I got familiar with the names of the streets and I learned the names of the mountains.

Other than these few places I have been or spent lots of time in I don’t know Arizona very well. Any state I’ve more or less lived in I can’t say that I’ve seen all of. But I’m looking forward, if I get the chance, to getting to know Arizona a little better. And I will say, serious props to J.K. Rowling for making Arizona the home habitat of Frank the Thunderbird in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that, really. But maybe J.K. knows just how hardcore Potterheads are down in Arizona. That’s where I first read the series, during one of my summers there. Fandom--family--adventure--Arizona is where the important things are.

A Trip Down to Texas

I got to go home for Christmas. For those of you who don't know me, home is in Texas, just outside of San Antonio. 

Hill just outside of New Braunfels, Texas

I don't care if my Christmas is white or brown. It's not really Christmas unless I'm with my family.

Dad put up lights in our front yard this year--this is the biggest light display we've ever had

It was a fun break. We played board games and watched season 3 of Clone Wars and went to the theater to see Rogue One. But that's how my family is: we love Star Wars.

My brothers Carl and Rex

Some of you probably wonder why I still call Texas home if (A) I've been living in Utah for the last six years and (B) I have no intention of going back to live permanently. I think the fact of the matter is, Texas is home because it shaped me. It's where I had the experiences that defined me as a person. There are people there that I know and love dearly even if I don't get to see them much anymore.

A country backroad

Living in the country is frustrating because you have to drive to get anywhere. But on the other hand, I loved growing up in the country because I was surrounded by wide, open spaces with lots of animals and few people--prime spots to be filled in with the imagination.

I also got to spend quality time with our family's cats. We have four. 

Jaguar, aka the Goo, on Christmas Morning

And of course, I will always be enamored of the culture and history of my home state. I've visited the Alamo and the Riverwalk in downtown San Antonio more times than I can count. And I always love going back.

Horses grazing outside of Seguin, Texas

So Texas can be a great place for some people to live, but for where I am at in my life right now, it's not really a good fit. I have better job opportunities and more of a social life up here in Provo, even if I get frustrated with it sometimes. Plus, I hate the humidity down there. It was 80 degrees and humid the whole time I was down visiting last month. However, I am always happy to go back to Texas and visit. It's definitely a wonderful place. I always get excited when I meet someone else from the San Antonio/Austin area. Even if I end up spending the rest of my life somewhere else, I will always be proud to be Texan, because it's part of who I am.

Cole Family Reunion 2016

In case you were wondering why I didn't post last week, I was at a family reunion. Specifically for my dad's side of the family.

We rented a cabin for three days in Altamont, Utah. Altamont is the middle of nowhere near Duchesne (pronounced "Du-shane", for those of you who don't speak Utah). Since we weren't supposed to check into the cabin until late Monday afternoon, my immediate family decided to drive out to Vernal and Dinosaur National Monument. We stopped at the Natural History Museum first.

We met with dad's brother Scott's family for lunch and then went to the Monument.

Scott's daughter Julie next to a dinosaur's leg

Drive by the temple going back through Vernal.

Then it was out to the cabin.  Now, my dad has nine siblings in all, and some of them have grandchildren--LOTS of grandchildren. So it had to be a HUGE cabin. Three stories, bedrooms on the top and bottom floor, a game room, large restrooms with showers, a barn with a rock wall, paintball and mountain bike rentals, a swimming pool and hot tub--and it was all put to use.

LOTS AND LOTS OF PEOPLE. And they're all related to me.

Dinners on the veranda were the best.

I didn't get a lot of photos, but these were some of the best.

It's not summer if your tongue isn't the wrong color

Watermelon!

This is my cousin Gloria's son James. I hadn't met him before. He is very cute and I fell in love with him right away. But James wasn't so sure.

I think he at least figured out that we both like Star Wars, so we're getting somewhere.

This is my cousin Chalise's son Asher. I also had not met him before last week. But probably one of my favorite moments of the reunion was blowing raspberries with Asher in the kitchen while my family was making lunch on Wednesday.

This is my cousin Nicole's baby girl Portia with my dad.

This is Lafe's baby boy Levi--easily the most photogenic baby we had.

I had to ditch out after family photos because I had work the next morning. But it wasn't the end of the world. Everyone had a great time.

Liz on "Les Miz"

Last month for cleaning checks I had the first act of the Les Miserables 25th Anniversary Concert playing in the background. For this month I did act two.

I've been thinking a bit about Arizona lately since it's my second home. Arizona is important to me for a number of reasons. One of them should be, perhaps, the fact that Arizona is where I had my first exposure to Les Mis. It was the night before Girls' Camp. It was my first year and was going with my cousin's stake. While my cousin and her friends were outside playing in the pool, I went inside while my aunt was cleaning house. She had the original cast recording of Les Miserables playing while she worked (hence I guess the association with Les Mis and cleaning). I remember that some of the songs were fun to listen to.

Via Mi Isla Creations

We were at Camp LoMia over Sunday, and that night we had a fireside with Jenny Prince, whose theater camp I had been in for the last two summers. Jenny told the story of Jean Valjean's change of heart at the beginning of Les Mis--but at the time I had no idea that it was part of the same musical that my aunt was listening to the other day.

My junior year of high school, I moved to Snowflake/Taylor for a year. Best experience of my life. One of the reasons that was the case was my English class with the late Ms. Carolyn Cunningham. Ms. Cunningham required us to write up three book reports per semester on reading we had done on our own. One of the books available for our reports from her collection was an abridged version of Les Miserables. Ms. Cunningham told us at the beginning of the school year--heck, it may have been the first day of school--"If you don't read Les Miserables while you're in high school, you are not human."

Stagedoorish

There were a lot of things I learned from Ms. Cunningham that I took to heart. That line about Les Mis must have been one of them. I checked out the abridged version in January. Between all of my other assigned readings for Ms. Cunningham's class and the homework for my other classes (I was in nearly all honors/dual credit courses) it was slow going. But it was in class that I read about Jean Valjean's conversion. I finished Les Mis at the end of February. I loved it. I was just blown away by the feeling I had while reading it--like drinking orange juice. It made me feel excited. That was about all of the story that made sense to me at the time. I was able to keep the plot straight, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what the major themes were.

I've had the Mormon Tabernacle Choir album Showtime since high school and it's one of the CDs I have listened to OVER and OVER again. So I was familiar with the song "Bring Him Home." But I didn't quite have the context for the song after reading the book. I had yet to see the musical in any form.

Junior year, of course, was when Susan Boyle happened. I was blown away by the video like everyone else, but the song "I Dreamed a Dream" really spoke to me at the time.

In 2012, two things happened. The movie version of the musical came out. I have yet to see it, but for now let's just say Honest Trailers (link) and recommendations from other friends have ruined the chances of that for the time being. But 2012 was also when Alfie Boe guest starred with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir for their annual Christmas concert. I had the privilege of being able to attend and watch him sing Bring Him Home IN PERSON. There is nothing quite like that. And I have never heard louder cheering in the Conference Center than when he performed that.

I have an aunt on my mom's side who LOVES Alfie Boe. She got me a copy of the Les Mis 25th Anniversary Concert on DVD in 2012, so that was how I finally saw the musical all the way through. I have watched it a handful of times, but it's an amazing experience every time. The 25th Anniversary concert in particular is when you get the reunion with four previous casts and it's awesome (I may just be biased but Alfie is the best Valjean. In any event, he's my Valjean).

Via makinghugospin.livejournal. Too good to pass up!

I haven't seen any other versions of the musical but I would like to.  I really regret not seeing it when Provo High School did it a couple years ago. (I also saw the non-musical movie starring Liam Neeson not long ago--it was an okay movie, a little different). I've heard from some friends that I'm not missing much by not reading the unabridged version of the novel. We'll see if that happens. And now I'm in the bad habit of listening to "One Day More" the day before a major movie comes out.

I think what has helped me to understand the story is listening to the musical over and over again, and paying attention to the story and the words. After his conversion, Jean Valjean spent his life serving others. He did what he could to help Fantine, and then he gave Cosette the best life possible. And then he rescued Marius so that he and Cosette could be together. Social justice and revolutions can only do so much. It is individual acts of service, kindness to others, and love that truly changes the world. "To love another person is to see the face of God." I truly believe that.

And I don't care if there are restrictions on being a Les Mis fan. I don't care if I don't have the most cultivated taste on Les Mis. I am a fan whether you want me in or not.

A Day for Remembering

So, I lied. I need more time to work on that Civil War post. But I can tell you about my weekend.

Growing up in Texas away from my extended family, I didn't really celebrate Memorial Day. My junior year of high school when I was in Arizona I did get to attend a remembrance service and then decorate family gravesites in my dad's hometown.

When I moved out to Utah, I started spending Memorial Day weekend with my mom's family. That was when I learned that in American culture, Memorial Day isn't just about remembering the military dead but all those who have passed on. It's sort of like Dia de Los Muertos in Mexico, except without the candy skulls. On Memorial Day weekend in Utah, everyone goes out and decorates the graves of their deceased loved ones. Some people even go so far as to have family gatherings and picnics on the grave sites--I'm being serious.

I wasn't able to do this last year because I had a job at the time and I was working.

Sunday night, my mom's family--my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins--meets at the Washington Terrace Cemetery in Ogden, Utah. We meet at the grave of my grandpa Bair's parents, Russell Bair and Ione Thompson.

Great Grandma Bair is the only great-grandparent I knew in my lifetime. She died right after my baby sister was born.

We then go to the grave of Great Grandma's parents and then to the grave of Grandpa's friend Jim Jenkins. We usually have a hard time finding Jim's grave, because Grandma and Grandpa don't recall exactly where it is from year to year, but this year we actually went straight for it. After the cemetery gathering, the family goes back to Grandma and Grandpa's house for ice cream.

On Monday, Grandma and Grandpa Bair go to Cache Valley to visit the graves of their relatives. They are usually joined by my uncle Lyle and aunt Cathy. This year Cathy's granddaughter Hayley and their adorable dachshund Jazzy came with us, too.

We always start out at the North Ogden Cemetery. Grandma's aunt Jenny is buried there.  Grandma Bair's mother died young, and Aunt Jenny took her in and raised her.

In the years since I've been going with them, our first stop has been Bear River City near Tremonton. That is where my dad's grandmother Grace Freeman Downing Cole Checketts is buried next to her second husband, Charles Checketts. Grandpa doesn't mind, since he has a couple of friends buried in Bear River as well, and of course my mom's parents and my dad's parents are good friends. I like being able to honor my great-grandmother.

Sometimes I wonder who brings the other flowers.  Does anyone come after me, and notice what I brought? Does anyone know that one of Grace's biological descendants comes to visit?

Of course, the people whose graves we visit know we've been there.

Can I just say I LOVE the drive through Cache Valley?

Our next stop is Richmond. Grandpa Bair's parents and great-grandparents are up there.

Richmond Cemetery is also where the remains of John Bair are located--John Bair being one of the colonizer/dynastic founder figures on my mom's side.

This year I was mesmerized by the view from the hill.

Also I found a patch of lilacs near John Bair's marker. They're still fresh and smelling great!

Next we go to the Logan Cemetery, right behind USU. Logan Cemetery doesn't quite have the small-town charm of Richmond and Bear River. However, it's a fun cemetery precisely because it's big. There are people from many different countries and cultures buried there. There's "Babyland," where lots of infants are buried. There's monuments of every shape and size, statues and marble tombs. There are even landmark graves that Hayley looks for every time she comes up, like the one with the recipe on it. When I was at the Logan cemetery two years ago, I found a headstone decorated with legos--we didn't get to see it up close this year but it was fun to remember it.

My grandma's parents and grandparents are buried in the Logan City Cemetery on the north side. Then we walk all the way across the cemetery to visit the Daleys' gravesite. The Daleys took care of my grandma and put her through college before she got married.

Headstones of Grandma Bair's parents, Lolin Smith and Clifford Lee Atkinson

There's only one real veteran among the graves we visit in Cache Valley. Jack Bassett served in World War II and then came home and married my grandma's aunt Elaine. Jack and Elaine are buried smack in the middle of Logan Cemetery. Then we walk over to Babyland to visit the grave of a baby of one of Grandma's friends.

After the Logan Cemetery, my grandma's family, the Atkinsons, meet at a local restaurant for a reunion. This year we went to Firehouse Pizzeria on the south side of Logan. Firehouse has great food and excellent service so I can definitely recommend it.

The Atkinson reunion is usually Grandma and Grandpa Bair's last stop in Cache Valley. This year, however, we made a detour to Hyrum.  Grandma's brother Kendall is buried in the cemetery there. He died right before I graduated from college, so almost two years ago now.  It took forever to find his grave, though, since Grandma and Grandpa couldn't remember its location--and I even walked past it while looking for it.  I can guarantee I won't forget where it is next time!

I'd never been to the Hyrum cemetery before, and the view is amazing.  I swear the more I see of Cache Valley the more I think I'd be okay with living there.

To me, Memorial Day isn't about death so much as remembering the lives of those who came before us. Every person in a cemetery has a story, and each headstone tells just a small piece of it.

I'm thankful for the privilege to remember those who have gone on before me. I wish I knew their stories a little better. I'm also thankful to go back to Cache Valley, where my family (on both sides, believe it or not) has its roots.