Elsie Vilate (Owens) Flake (1883 - 1952)

September 9, 1883 to July 20, 1952

By her son, Robert Kenneth Flake, written in 1990

Elsie Vilate Owens was born on September 9, 1883 to James Clark Owens III and Jane Cecelia Cluff in Woodruff, a new town in northern Arizona. She joined a two-year old brother, James Clark IV, who became a much admired playmate. Her father was a cheerful man noted for his big smile and his hearty laugh. Her mother, Jane Cecelia, was fun loving and energetic. Jane enjoyed dancing and other activities. Elsie was a healthy, happy child. In the early days of Woodruff, the people lived in a long L-shaped fort. It was most inconvenient. When Elsie was two-years old, her father was very pleased to start the construction of their new home.

The winter when Elsie was two years old, Clark III, Cecelia, and other family members went ice skating. This was an activity that Cecelia greatly enjoyed. While skating, she fell and injured her back very seriously and her back was never strong after that. She spent much of her life from then on lying on a bed. The accident was a tragedy, but they made the best of it. It did not keep Cecelia from being a good mother or from serving as a teacher for the Church at her home. The family was still cheerful and had big smiles and hearty laughter. They hired some help for a time, but as soon as little Clark and Elsie were big enough, they took over the household duties. Their father helped when he was at home. They were careful not to neglect their mother.

Elsie was baptized in the spring after she turned eight-years old (April 7, 1892) by Bishop Levi M. Savage. (Note: Bishop Levi Mathers Savage served as bishop for 27 years and he was the son of Levi Savage who was a member of the Willie Handcart Company.) As in all Mormon settlements, most activities were centered around the Church and good wholesome activities were enjoyed by all. Elsie and little Clark got the schooling that was available to them, and they enjoyed the other activities in the small town of Woodruff.

James Clark Owens, James Clark Owens IV, Elsie, & Jane Cecelia

When Elsie was nine-years old, her youngest brother, Almon David, was born. Considering the health of their mother, they felt this son was a special blessing from the Lord. Clark was a lively boy, full of energy. Like Elsie, he inherited the cheerfulness and hearty laugh of their father. These qualities were with them throughout their lives and served them well.

At times, Elsie’s mother’s condition was so bad that those attending her would pray that she would have the strength to sit in a chair while the bed was being changed. One time, when she was very weak, their ward had a special fast for her and for the wife of their bishop. I quote from the journal of Bishop Levi M. Savage, “Thursday, May 7, 1896, I rebaptized Adeline Savage (his wife) and Cecelia Owens seven times for health.” Cecelia was so weak that she was carried in a chair to the carriage that took her to the river, then she was carried into the water. After she was rebaptized and blessed for her health, she was able to walk out of the water. At the next Fast and Testimony Meeting, which were held on Thursdays at that time, she stood and bore her testimony. At the close of the meeting, she walked across the street to her home. She never again was as weak as before.

With the improved health of Cecelia, the family was able to do more things together. During one summer, with Cecelia’s bed in a wagon, they went to the mountains above Heber to be with their father where he had his sheep. Cecelia used this opportunity to teach her children to love nature and to enjoy God’s creations.

Elsie and her mother, Jane Cecelia Cluff Owens

In September of 1899, with Cecelia much stronger, Elsie’s father, James Clark Owens III, was called on a mission to the Eastern States. It was a sacrifice, but he did not question a call from the Church. While he was gone, Cecelia, with her bed in a wagon, went with her family to the Gila Valley so that Elsie and little Clark could go to school at the Gila Academy in Thatcher. Cecelia’s parents, the Cluffs, lived in the Gila Valley. While there, they lived in a tent with a board floor and boards up the sides. William Washington DeWitt was with them some of the time. When school was out, Cecelia and the children went back to Woodruff.

Elsie and Will DeWitt

The young people in Woodruff made their own entertainment and Elsie and her brothers took part in these activities. They enjoyed singing and loved being with others their age. Will DeWitt grew more special to Elsie. He was a talented musician and could play various musical instruments. They enjoyed singing together and just being with each other. Their relationship developed into something deeper and they decided to marry. Elsie was seventeen.

On December 17, 1900, Elsie and Will were sealed in marriage by Joseph F. Smith, in Woodruff. (Joseph F. Smith was second counselor to President Lorenzo Snow from 1898-1901.) The next year, they went to Salt Lake City, Utah and received their temple ordinances on October 9, 1901. (Note: I, Nena Pospisil, am in possession of a letter written to Aunt Velma Hatch from the Church Genealogical Society, dated March 11, 1976, in regards to Elsie and William DeWitt being sealed before receiving their endowments. One paragraph says, “A number of early Arizona sealings were recorded in special out-of-the-temple records and some of these we have on file. We have double checked this and are pleased to inform you that there is an official entry in those records and that entry has been entered on the Computer File Index. It confirms that your William W. DeWitt and Elsie V. Owens were married and sealed on 17 December 1900 at Woodruff, now Navajo County, Arizona.”)

Elsie and Will – wedding portrait

Elsie gave birth to a son, Irvin William DeWitt in Woodruff on November 27, 1901. She and Will (who was also called Willie) were very happy with this healthy boy and they enjoyed him greatly.

When Elsie’s father came home from his mission, he wanted to be back in the mountains, and in 1903, he found that a Mr. Huning would sell the land where Show Low is now located. James Clark Owens III and some of the brethren wanted to buy it. Mr. Huning said that he would deal with William Jordan Flake, so he was brought in and the purchase was made. James Clark Owens, John Henry Willis, and Niels Hansen each took one-fifth of the land and William J. Flake took two-fifths. Later, the Ellsworth brothers took one-fifth from William Flake. Other people came, and the town of Show Low was born. Elsie’s parents were happy to live in the mountains.

Elsie and Will remained in Woodruff and their first daughter, Ora, was born there on July 4, 1904. In 1905, Elsie and Will took their two little ones and went to Show Low so they could help Elsie’s parents. Her father was the bishop of the Show Low Ward and her mother wasn’t doing well. Jane Cecelia (she went by Cecelia) was serving as the president of the ward Relief Society, and her health was failing. She led the Relief Society from her bed at her home. Elsie was a big help to her mother and served with her as secretary in the Relief Society.

Elsie and Will had another son, LeRoy Owens DeWitt, born on March 22, 1906 in Show Low. He also added much joy to the young family. Elsie’s mother’s health continued to worsen and on February 21, 1907, Jane Cecelia Cluff Owens died. Tenderly she was laid to rest, the first person in the new Show Low Cemetery. Elsie had cared for her dear mother and was so close to her—it was sad to lose her.

In August after her mother died, Elsie and Will took their three little ones and moved back to Woodruff so they could help Will’s mother, Margaret Miller Watson DeWitt. Typhoid fever broke out in the area, and Will was called to administer to some of the sick. He had a special gift for healing and many asked him to give them a blessing because of their faith in his healing power. He came down with the fever and, as he had been sick with it before, it hit him harder than normal. He became very sick and on December 1, 1907, twenty-eight year old William Washington DeWitt died. This was a hard thing for Elsie. In a period of just over nine months, she lost her much loved mother and her beloved husband. She and Will had been leaders in the Woodruff Ward and were greatly loved, especially by the young people. Now, at age 24, Elsie was a widow with three young children.

Elsie decided to go back to Show Low to live with her widowed father. She enjoyed living in her father’s two-story brick home and was a great help to him. She clerked in his store, tended children, and did nursing to help pay expenses. Elsie had the opportunity to take nursing training from a nurse brought in from Utah to train in the area. She completed the training to become a registered nurse, except for three or four weeks training in a hospital. This training served her well all her life. She was called upon to deliver many babies and to care for mothers and babies and others in need. Early in 1909, her father married Adah Porter.

Elsie and her nursing class. She is in the third row second from the left.

Elsie and friends at the end of their nursing training. Elsie is on the back row, left side.

In the fall of 1912, Elsie was helping someone in Snowflake and she felt impressed that she needed to be in Show Low with her children the next Sunday. She saddled her horse and went home. In the afternoon of September 29, 1912, her 11 year-old son, Irvin, went with a friend, Roy Seymour, to gather cows for his grandfather. Roy was in the saddle, and Irvin got up behind the saddle where he tied the latigo straps around his thighs. As they rode up a hill, something spooked the horse and he stumbled. Roy was thrown clear, but Irvin, with the straps around his legs, sustained a fatal head injury and it is surmised that he died instantly. When they called his mother out of church, she knew something was amiss, but could hardly have imagined the devastating news they brought. Irvin’s death deeply saddened Elsie, and she knew why she was impressed to be in Show Low. Irvin was buried near his grandmother in the Show Low Cemetery.

Soon after this time, another death occurred that was to bring about a big change in Elsie’s life and the lives of her two remaining children. At her father’s home in Show Low, she came in contact with Joel W. Flake whose wife, Lucy Whipple Flake, had recently died. He was left with four children, the youngest being two-years old and in much need of care. Joel prayed for someone to mother his children. Elsie’s heart went out to that little two-year old, as well as to the others, and she consented to marry Joel. They didn’t know each other very well and their lives were very different. She took on this great challenge and I have never seen where she expressed resentment for having done it.

Elsie and Joel were married January 29, 1914, and they started their life together with six small children—his four (Rowena age 9, Lawrence age 6, John age 4, and Dennis age 2) and Elsie’s two (Ora age 9 ½ and LeRoy who was nearly 8). To add to their challenge was the different way they had been raised. Elsie came from a cheerful, loving, closely knit family. She enjoyed being with people and participating with them in uplifting and fun things. Joel had spent much of his life riding the range, and he was a rustic cattleman. His family life lacked the warmth and the ability to express tender feelings that had been so much a part of Elsie’s life.

After their marriage, Elsie, Joel and their children moved to a ranch, now known as Aripine, where there were only a few neighbors scattered within a radius of about five to ten miles. The ranch was 25 miles from Snowflake and 30 miles from Show Low. To travel there, Elsie would have to go by horseback or in a buggy or wagon, which would have taken at least half a day. Her contact with people seemed to be when they needed her nursing skills to help with births and other needs. She delivered more than 30 babies in the course of her years, and she was loved because of her tender care to mothers and their new tiny babies.

Elsie was alone with the children most of the time. Joel was a cattleman and was away a great deal. Life was very different from what Elsie had enjoyed when she was close to family and friends. Elsie adapted herself to the new tasks and dedicated her efforts to making a happy family. There was lots of work to be done and she and the children were busy. When she came to the ranch, she had 25 or more cows of her own and a few horses. With her cows and the milk stock that Dad kept, they made cheese, butter, and cottage cheese. The quality of that butter created a ready market in Holbrook for her sweet cream butter. It was sent to Holbrook by the mail carrier when he passed by the ranch.

On December 9, 1914, a son, Clark Owens Flake, was born to Elsie and Joel. On June 4, 1916, on the ranch, another baby boy joined the family. He was named Robert Kenneth Flake. Sister Shumway came in to help Elsie. Ora was nearing her twelfth birthday and was a great help to Elsie in caring for the seven younger children.

The main challenge was schooling for the children. A one-room school where all eight grades met together was started, and children from miles around attended. At the ranch, there were many chores to be done—there was land to be cleared for more farming, cows to be milked and chickens and pigs to be cared for. At times, water was scarce and had to be drawn from a well to water the stock. Life was busy at the ranch. As her mother had done before her, Elsie taught the children to love God and each other. She taught them to work and to enjoy doing service for others. She molded Joel’s children, her children and their children into a happy, united family—life was good where Elsie was.

A daughter, Eva, was born on February 26, 1918, also at the ranch. As before, Elsie had only a little help with the birth. Elsie was called to help other mothers as a midwife many times and cared for both the mothers and babies after birth. She mounted her mare, Red-Wing, and rode to the homes. She brought cheer, and sometimes wildflowers, to the new mothers. One mother recalled how Elsie stopped on the way to her home and picked some wild roses and brought them to her. For many years, this woman wrote letters of thanks for Elsie’s care of her and the delivery of her babies.

After World War I ended in 1918, Joel sold their cattle and became a traveling salesman. He bought Bill Gibson’s homestead of 80 acres that adjoined Section 33 that was the first ranch. Joel also bought a Model T Ford and started building a home west of Snowflake on 80 acres that he received from his father, William Jordan Flake.

Joel bought the Gibson place in about 1918, and this is the Gibson house.

In the fall of 1919, with some of the children in high school, the family moved to the new home in Snowflake. It was there in Snowflake that Velma was born on December 27, 1919. Elsie, feeling that the delivery was near, sent for Aunt Emma Smith to help deliver the baby. But by the time she was able to come, the baby had been born. Again, Elsie’s nursing skills served her well. She had some help with the other three births, but only her daughters were there to help with Velma.

The family moved back to the ranch in Aripine for the summer. At the ranch, there was plenty for the children to do, and Elsie taught them to work and to do it cheerfully. She did things with the children and life was pleasant, busy and enjoyable. Toys were invented and initiative was developed. Joel also taught them to be honest and dependable. When he was gone, he always left work to be done.

In the fall of 1920, the family again moved to the house in Snowflake so the children could go to school. Their well had not been finished and closed in, so it was not used for drinking water. Water was carried from town until the well was finished. Dennis drank some of the water from the well and came down with typhoid fever. Soon the disease spread to others in the family, and as many as eight were sick at one time—the sickness continued through the winter. From September 1920 to April 1921, anywhere from one to eight of the children were sick at any given time. LeRoy, Clark, and Rowena were hardest hit and were sick for months. LeRoy and Clark lost their muscle strength and had to learn to walk again. The doctor felt at one point that Clark and LeRoy wouldn’t live. They were only healed by prayer and priesthood blessings. The nearest doctor was in Winslow, which was 60 miles away, and he came very seldom.

Ora wrote the following on January 21, 1921, and it was published in the Snowflake Herald in 1922:

“The days pass into years. The years bring many changes. As time hurries on, old friends have scattered, new ones take their places, only one friend remains true through the years, that friend is my Mother. Though far from her, I see her kind face as it reflects the glory of God, I feel her bold presence, I hear her sweet words of truth—her guiding hand is upon my head. “I may pass through trouble, sorrow may be my constant companion, disgrace may bow my head in shame, and the world may crucify me on a cross of fire, but the one I call Mother will never forsake me. Her ears will never be deaf to my cries of pain, her hands will never be too tired to minister to my wants. She will go with me through the dark days, and stand beside me as I pass through the Valley of Death. “She is the uncrowned queen of the nation, she is the unpaid servant of the world, she is the unseen martyr of love—she is the most faithful of the faithful, she hopes when hope is gone, she gives her life that we might live, she is a slave that we may be free, and is happy only when we are happy, and our grief is her grief, and our victories are her victories. “As she passes through this life, may her happiness increase. May her sorrows cease to be. “May we stop for a moment in our mad rush through life and pay her a tribute of love and gratitude. May we lay at her feet a garland of roses, may we place on her head a crown of love, and may we tell her that we love her and always will love her the same as we did when we were children.”

The long struggle with typhoid was draining on Elsie’s health; she was ready to go back to the ranch to rest. Measles and whooping cough had come to Snowflake and everyone hoped that going to the ranch would help them avoid these diseases. But it was not to be. The family took the illnesses with them. It then became another battle with two illnesses at the same time.

Ora had a difficult case of the measles. When she felt she was over the disease, she insisted on doing the washing—which was done on a washboard—to spare her exhausted mother. Ora, who was almost 17, had a backset of the measles, and after much suffering, she died on April 5, 1921. She was a sweet, talented person, and I remember her as being as near to an angel as one can be. Much of the joy went from the life of the family with her passing. (Clark writes that Ora used to play the piano and sing for the family, which she could do beautifully.) Ora was buried in Show Low near her brother, Irvin, and their grandmother, Jane Cecelia Cluff Owens.

Ora

Losing Ora was hard for all the family, but it was especially hard for Elsie, who was then pregnant. Elsie’s health was impaired by the strain of such a long period of sickness in the family and by the loss of her beloved daughter, Ora. Elsie, with the strength born of great pioneer ancestry, bowed in prayer and went forward. She read the poem, “My Hand in God’s,” and she placed her hand in His and went on her cheerful way—even though her heart ached. (Note: Elsie’s family always thought that she wrote this poem, but in fact it was written by Florence Scripps Kellogg [1870-1958]).

My Hand in God’s

Each morning when I wake, I say, “I place my hand in God’s today,” With faith and trust that by my side He’ll walk with me, my steps to guide.

He leads me with the tenderest care When paths are dark and I despair, No need for me to understand If I but hold fast to His hand.

My hand in His—no surer way To walk in safety through each day. By His great bounty I am fed; Warmed by His love and comforted.

When at day’s end, I seek to rest And realize how much I am blessed, My thanks pour out to Him and then I place my hand in God’s again.

Because of trials Mom had faced in her life, she loved this poem by Grenville Kleiser which mirrored her feelings. The Bridge You’ll Never Cross

It’s what you think that makes the world Seem dull or bright to you; Your mind may color all things gray Or make them radiant hue. Be glad today, be true and wise; Seek gold amidst the dross. Waste neither time nor thought about The bridge you’ll never cross.

There’s useful work for you to do With hand and brain and heart; There’s urgent human service, too In which to take your part. Make every opportunity A gain and not a loss. This day is yours; so do not fear The bridge you’ll never cross.

If life seems drab and difficult, Just face it with a will; You do not have to work alone Since God is with you still. Press on with courage toward the goal, With truth your shield emboss. Be strong, look up and just ignore The bridge you’ll never cross.

Summer passed and winter came. Lorenzo Lyman Flake was born November 26, 1921, on the ranch. He required a lot of care and was given it by his mother. Time went on, and two other children were born, both on the ranch. Almon J was born August 13, 1923, and he was a robust boy. Lucelia was born August 15, 1925.

Life was spent on the ranch in the summers and in Snowflake during the school year. At the ranch, we would occasionally fix a lunch with lots of hard boiled eggs and take the wagon and go over to Park Wash for a picnic. We would pull down a limber pine tree—several of us would pull it down—and then one would get on. We would turn it loose and let it swing up. We made our own recreation. We had rodeos—the younger children would ride the calves and the older ones would ride a horse that would buck every time we put a saddle on her. We would rope calves. The family had good times. Leroy, or Dewy as we called him, was ten years older than I, yet we would go to parties together and would go to Woodruff to dances. Our brothers were our good friends. There were many good times at the ranch. The folks from ranches around would get together for Sunday School meeting, for singing, and at times dancing.

Mom had the courage and the wisdom to correct us when we needed it. Sometimes, she had to swat us with her hand to get our attention. Then she would talk with us. I decided that I didn’t want to disappoint my mother and so I would change the thing that she wanted corrected. I want to thank Mom for having the courage to correct me when I needed it and then to show forth all the love that it speaks of in the Doctrine and Covenants about reproving with sharpness and then showing much love afterwards. I loved Mom and I respected her. I remember sitting by her in Sacrament Meeting and she would put her arm around my shoulders. I was proud to sit by her.

The older children finished high school and began to go out on their own. When there were only seven at home, Clark said that that was not hardly enough to make a family. Rowena went to Washington State where she met John Luther Dalton and married him on November 22, 1926.

1926 on the ranch - Back row – Elsie holding Lucelia, Joel, John, Dennis Middle row –Eva, Robert Front row – Lawrence and Almon, Velma, Clark, Lorenzo

In the summer of 1927, Elsie and the seven youngest children were at the ranch. Polio came to the area and Almon, who was about three-years old, was hit with the crippling disease. The neighbors, who lived a half mile away, were afraid to come near. So, fear isolated Elsie and the young ones. One night, Almon was in a lot of pain. His head was drawn far back and one leg was drawn up very tight. Each of the children who could, offered a prayer. Then Elsie talked with her Heavenly Father in prayer. Almon responded, the tension in his body was released, and he fell asleep. Of all those in the area who had the disease, Almon was the only one I know of with no noticeable effects. The Lord had answered Elsie’s prayers. (Note: It wasn’t until 1953 that Dr. Jonas Salk developed a vaccine to immunize against polio.)

In the fall of 1929, we went to Phoenix because the relationship between Dad and Mom wasn’t too good. Mom and we seven children spent the winter with LeRoy. LeRoy was 23 and was working for Uncle Frank Owens. Clark, who also lived in Phoenix, was working in a grocery store, and he helped LeRoy support us. While we were there, Mom got smallpox and it was a rough time for us. Lawrence came to live with the family and he also got smallpox. The rest of the family was spared, as we had been vaccinated. Dad promised Mom better conditions and their relationship improved. So when summer came, the family went back to the Snowflake area for a year.

Dad traded the Snowflake property for a place in Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico, and the family moved there in May of 1931. After summer, Dennis and Clark went back to Snowflake to finish high school. Mom, Dad and we six younger children stayed in Mexico for two years. The trade of property was not what was expected, and it was difficult financially. At times, the family lived on cornbread and beans and had made-over clothing. These were hard years, but the family learned much and made many new friends. With Elsie’s cheerful spirit, many happy memories linger.

In May of 1933, we moved back to the ranch. It was the only home that the family owned. In the fall, we went to Snowflake for the school year and lived in a rented home while my brothers and sisters and I finished school. All of us children graduated from high school in Snowflake, and several went away to work. Dennis went on a mission.

Dad had had it rough while in Mexico. We had to protect everything against theft with fences and a dog. Dad had to work very hard to sustain the family because he hadn’t found what he thought he had traded for. There were few cattle, and it was hard to make a living. This caused him to be really nervous and somewhat demanding. We didn’t appreciate his treatment of Mom, and in time, Clark and I told her she didn’t have to put up with it. We pooled our resources. I had one cow and a few other things in my inheritance from the stock that Mom brought when she and Dad were married. Clark and I, with the support of others, sustained Mom and the younger kids in Snowflake for a little more than two years. My folks lived separately until the time of Clark’s wedding in 1936, when they got back together. Mom felt they could make it. She didn’t want to be a responsibility on Clark and the others, and I think that she also felt it would be for the good of the family. Things were better from then on, although not perfect. The lives of the younger children were benefitted by Mom's sacrifice.

It wasn’t easy for Mom and Dad to blend their lives. Dad was a tough cowboy, having been raised to be a bit forceful. He had been with rough people as he grew up. Mom was raised in a very religious environment and in a home with love, consideration, and service to each other. She had a nature that everybody loved and she helped everybody. It was hard to blend those two different natures. Everybody loved Mom, and to a certain extent Pa was just 'Jode'. Instead of calling him 'Joel', some called him 'Jode' which was putting him down a little bit. With the help of his three wives during his lifetime, he developed the qualities that he was lacking at that time with Mom. With his determination to do whatever he set his head to do, he did render a life of service, mainly in the temple in his later years. I will always remember when he was in the hospital sometime before he died. He prayed for the Lord to make him a good man, a nice man. 'Nice' hadn’t been a description of him generally in his life, but I believe he became a good man and a nice man. The Savior’s atonement gave him and us the blessings of repentance, and we can become acceptable to our Father in Heaven.

Elsie and Joel in front of the Gibson place in 1938

I would like now to mention some of the things that we experienced as we were growing up. I appreciated Dad and Mom for what they taught us. Dad taught us to work, to be honest, and to be dependable. Mom taught us faith in God and in ourselves and love for the Lord and also our fellowmen. She taught us to enjoy peace and harmony with those about us.

Clark married Afton Hatch on February 28, 1936. LeRoy married Lucille Clawson on December 23, 1936. Dennis married Carol Read November 4, 1937. I (Robert) went on a mission in May of 1938 and when I returned, I married Mae Thomas on May 20, 1941. John married Mervie Young Gallagher on March 14, 1942. Eva married Leonard Hardy Winmill on November 12, 1942, and Velma married Kenneth Hatch on November 12, 1942. Lorenzo and Almon went into the armed service. Lucilia married Emmett Lorin Merkley on November 17, 1944. Lorenzo returned from service in the Air Force and married Glenna Jeanene Hanks on May 26, 1948. Almon married Lois Estelle Widdison on November 4, 1948.

Mom and Dad bought a home in Mesa in the 1940s. Mom made new friends and enriched their lives with her friendly cheerfulness. Dad and Mom also visited their married children who were scattered around the country. Mom continued to be a ray of sunshine wherever she went. With all the hard work and strain she had experienced in her life, her body began to feel weak. Her health was failing, and in the fall of 1951, she became bedfast. Eva took her into her home, and Mom was tenderly cared for by family who lived in the area. People who visited her went away uplifted themselves.

In July of 1952, Mom was taken to the ranch. Members of her family gathered for a family reunion and came from far away to spend time with her. On July 20, 1952, her beautiful spirit was released, and she passed away at age 68. Tenderly, her worn body was cared for by loving hands. After her funeral, her devoted sons carried the beautiful casket, which had been carefully prepared by relatives, and laid it next to her beloved Willie in the Woodruff Cemetery. She has gone on to her loved ones, and she awaits loved ones yet to follow.

When Mom died, death suddenly became beautiful to me and I have no fear of death. Where we go after death is a beautiful place because Mom is there. When the time comes for me to go and join her, I will be happy.

In thinking back over Mom’s life, I am impressed with how well she handled her many difficulties. I don’t find any evidence that she complained about having to take care of her mother from the time she was very young until her mother died. In her youth, Mom enjoyed activities with others and was able to participate with them, but she never neglected her bedridden mother.

At the age of 24, she lost the mother that she had cared for and loved so well. A few months later, she lost her beloved husband and she became a widow with three small children. Again, I find no complaints. In order to better serve, she took a nursing training course and prepared herself to render great service to others as well as being able to care for the needs of her family. She was very well educated when compared to what was typical at that time.

Her firstborn son was killed before he was eleven years old in an accident. She had been inspired to come home to Show Low from Snowflake and was there the day he was killed. I mention this because she seemed to be supported by inspiration.

Not too long after she and Dad were married and moved to the ranch, Dad sold their cattle and started traveling as a salesman, leaving Mom with the children alone at the ranch most of the time. Never have I heard any resentment for having been left in this condition. There was lots of work to be done and she and the children were busy.

With this introduction, let me go to what I want to bring out. Mom left the life she was enjoying in Show Low, surrounded by friends and activity, and went out to a ranch that was away from friends and activity. She had six little children to care for, plus others who came later. Clark was born within a year, and the other six of us came around a year and a half apart. Maybe the challenge of caring for us took away some of the loss of the life she left behind. There was always plenty for us children to do and she helped us enjoy doing our part. She helped us with our work and with our studies. In my mind’s eye, I see us as children gathered around the kitchen table as mom was finishing up the kitchen chores. When we would call for help, she was always there. She would read to the younger ones and respond to the others as they asked questions about their homework or life. She was a busy mother and very capable.

She gave up one life and accepted another—a life of serving. Because of their different backgrounds, Joel wasn’t the considerate, gentle, caring spouse that Willie had been. It was more or less up to Mom to nurture us and train us for life. Dad didn’t have the experience or the nature to nurture us children very much, nor was he the companion to Mom that she needed.

She had been raised in ease and in comfortable surroundings. She gave up that life she was enjoying and took on strenuous work, to which she adjusted. She carried on well and without complaint. I think she is one of the greatest people I have ever known for the way she adapted herself to conditions and made the best of her situation. She always had a hearty laugh. I don’t know of anybody who didn’t love Mom.

After the years on the ranch, we would spend our winters in Snowflake and go to school. When the children were older, she had more time. Her association with people expanded. All she met in church and around the school came to appreciate the qualities she had. She was especially loved by the friends of her children. To a certain extent, our home was their second home. When neighbors needed someone to care for their children, she responded.

She had an outgoing, loving personality. I want to bring out again that she was great at adapting to any situation in which she was called to live. She was loved by all. I love my Mama and sometimes I feel a longing to be with her and to let her know the feelings that have blessed my life with her memory. I will be glad to see her again.

Excerpts from the talk given by Silas L. Fish at Elsie’s funeral: We all have an influence on other people’s lives without realizing it. Let me give you one specific example. Clark Owens, Elsie’s father, did not live in Snowflake. He lived in Woodruff and Show Low during my lifetime. It was one of the highlights of my young life to go into the ACMI (Arizona Cooperative Mercantile Institution) and listen to his jokes and laughter. His jokes were clean and his laughter was contagious. It was a privilege to hear a man laugh as he did. He was one of the most congenial men in the world. I never think of him but I see his smile. It was a smile that radiated good will, friendliness and cheer. It was irresistible. It did something to you. It lifted you up into the sunlight. His was a priceless smile. He cheered many souls before he even opened his mouth. And when he spoke, it was with words warm from a sympathetic heart, a heart that had been mellowed and sweetened by trials and severe difficulties. His life is an example of what mortal life can do for a man who makes the right choices and who does not let repeated failures and hardships and sorrows embitter the soul, but instead lets the vicissitudes of life develop an understanding heart and a smile that scatters sunshine everywhere. Elsie inherited that smile. Even in the midst of pain, she smiled. Suffering, bereavement, heartache could not drive that smile away. What a blessing to humanity is an understanding heart and a smile that radiates the sympathy, hope and friendliness that only hearts can feel that have been mellowed by sorrow and pain and self sacrifice in the service to those in need. Such was Elsie’s smile…Elsie was a blessing to all who knew her.

The following was taken from a paper written in Elsie’s own handwriting. William W. DeWitt and Elsie V. Owens were married and sealed on 17 December 1900 by Joseph F. Smith, with Abram C. Woodruff, Seymore B. Young and Bishop L. M. Savage as signed witnesses, at the home of my father. He was not home on this occasion, being away on a mission to the Eastern States. He returned 23 November 1901. We lived with mother for three months, then moved by ourselves and spent a happy summer in gardening. On September 30, 1901, we left for General Conference in Salt Lake City, arriving there on Saturday. We attended the last day of Conference on Sunday. There we saw President Snow, whose death was reported as we left on October 10, 1901. We went through the Salt Lake Temple on October 9, 1901, for our endowments. After which we spent a few days in Lehi, Utah visiting his sister Sarah and her family and also my Aunt Zina. Then we returned and arrived home October 18, 1901. On November 27, 1901, we had a son born to us, named Irvin. On December 4, 1901, he was blessed and named by my father, James Clark Owens. In January 1902, he was blessed by John Reidhead in Fast Meeting.

Elsie wrote: “We had a little two-room gray house in Woodruff, with a porch on the front where the birds used to build their nests every summer. I wasn’t two-years old when my mother took to her bed. I remember carrying her a drink, putting wood in the fireplace to help keep her warm. I used to help Father make shotgun cartridges. I liked to help him grease his saddle and harnesses. That’s funny for a girl, isn’t it? But everything Father did was so wonderful to me. I helped Father graft trees from a summer apple into a crab apple and have seen them bear and grow fruit. Father had sheep and had to take care of them, so my brother and I felt very responsible for Mother when he was away. Many times, we’d fast from our breakfast and pray that Mother could sit up while we made her bed. It took two of us because we were so small that we couldn’t handle a quilt alone. We would hurry and get the bed made so that Mother could get back in because she couldn’t sit up long. We’d thank the Lord and go get her breakfast.”

I (Nena) attended a BYU Women’s Week lecture in April 1990 by C. Terry Warner. He referenced our grandmother, Elsie Vilate Owens DeWitt Flake, in his lecture entitled ‘Peace First, Then Order.’ I requested a copy of his talk, and the following are excerpts: It follows that a woman’s greatness lies not in any role defined for her. If it did, she would be replaceable by someone with equivalent training. Her greatness lies in her soul, in the open, immediate, vulnerable, and compassionate way she connects with or bonds herself to the individuals around her. Her power is most impressively exercised in her humble, face-to-face establishment of a new interiority, a new conscience, and a new freedom in each of her children. They are not just bone of her bone; they are soul of her soul. This makes her irreplaceable. To the extent that a woman fails to retain her purity and her capacity for love, she abandons her greatness. Typically this happens when she begins to envy men in their arrogant claim that they possess a superior role. Then she starts thinking of superiority in terms of role and status…And by this means she not only loses sight of her uniqueness and greatness, she ceases to be unique and great….. You may have found some of my assertions scandalous, so let me recount for you a few strands of the story of Elsie Vilate Owens DeWitt Flake. She reared 13 children on a ranch 25 miles from the nearest town, with no doctors available. After her first husband died, she met and married a widower who had four children of his own to go with her two, and together they had seven more. Nine of these were rough and ready boys who indulged in such recreations as home rodeos, and in this way and in their work they had many accidents and diseases, all of which Elsie treated herself, even to the setting of broken bones. I’ll tell you about her service to one of these boys. The second youngest was Almon, who in later life became an almost legendary influence for good in the lives of young people as bishop in Centerville, Utah, and as a high school principal in both Centerville and Bountiful. At age two, he contracted the then dreaded, crippling disease infantile paralysis—polio, as it was popularly called. She had her boys shovel the oats out of the granary and line it with tin to keep out mice and rats; this then became Almon’s isolation ward. The children took turns praying for him outside the granary door, careful not to get too close. To relieve the child in his pain, Elsie massaged his neck and limbs almost continually. She soaked him in towels she heated in water on the wood-burning stove. Even after the illness had run its course, he continued to suffer such pains that he cried himself to sleep every night and she therefore continued to massage him every day. By these labors, she ensured that his muscles did not completely atrophy, for after the disease passed from his body the muscles were still alive and capable of rebuilding themselves. In other cases, the disease crippled people; some underwent multiple surgical attempts to graft muscles from unaffected parts of the body, like the buttocks, to replace atrophied muscles. But Almon recovered completely. All through this time, six other children were still living at home, though Elsie’s husband was not there to help. She cooked and washed in what we would now regard as primitive conditions, using her wood-burning stove and a washboard. When her last children left home, Elsie began to falter. She was in her early sixties. Her children took her to a doctor, who asked her when she had had pneumonia. She told him she had never had it, whereupon he announced that her lungs were filled with scar tissue; she had had pneumonia many times. “There is not an organ in your body,” he said, “that’s not in serious trouble.” He told the children they had better gather if they wished to see their mother again in this life. She was still paying the price for serving her children. For three years, she hung on in agony before passing away. Almon Flake says, “I talk to the Lord, she talked with the Lord. She walked and talked with Him. I have never done anything good or been tempted to do anything bad but I’ve had the thought, ‘What would Mom do?’ I never heard her holler or yell. When the boys would go out at night, she would say, “Now don’t come home early”—which meant after midnight. “You know who you are. We’re proud of you. Do the things I know you’ll do.” She did not dictate our decisions; she didn’t try to control us; we were trained in self-control. I recall a single time when she said she didn’t want me to go to a party with some of my friends. That was unusual. But the party turned bad. She had been prompted by the Spirit. “Mom took us on walks. We knew the names of all the birds, animals, plants, and flowers. We had several favorite places to play. We built ranches: adobe houses, barns, and pole corrals, using horseshoes for horses and cow horns for cows. “One of the older boys, Dennis, was the family ‘tease.’ He would stir up trouble in the house unmercifully. But she never condemned him or put him down—instead she would love him and play games with him. I remember when we made the play houses out of adobe, she would be there doing it with him. “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop,” she would say, and when we were working with her we were always reciting poetry, singing songs, or quoting scriptures—and I never minded doing it, because it was so good to be with her.” To my mind this woman altered the course of history by her deeds more extensively and more decisively than Alexander the Great or Albert Einstein. Think of how families grow exponentially—in just a few generations Elsie Flake’s posterity will run into the thousands, all of them affected not superficially but profoundly, in their characters, personalities, opportunities for happiness—at least to the third and fourth generations, but probably more than this. Think of how the righteousness of her children affect yet other families throughout the earth, as they serve missions and go about their careers, so that in those families the process of renewal starts all over again. There is no end to this. All this Elsie Flake achieved by nurturing her children in righteousness and truth at the cost of everything she had to give. Some will think of her as oppressed and deprived. To them I ask these questions: Would you rather she had played out her life in a self-interested struggle for her rights, comforts, and satisfactions? Do you think she would have been better off striving for a favorable station in society? Would you want her not to have been a savior on Mount Zion? Could she have been happier had she lacked that greatest of all love, the love that lays down its life for its friends? Should she now, beset by regrets about what she missed out on in life, step down from her exalted position of celestial glory where she has been welcomed by the very Lord whose children she welcomed on earth?

Almon J Flake, a son, wrote this while he and his wife Lois were on a mission in 1985-86: Sunday, 12 January 1986—warm clear day of 38 degrees. We could sleep in, but out of force of habit we awakened early—had a big, long philosophical discussion kicked off about life when we were kids, and engulfing a wide spread of happenings in our yesteryear. Perhaps Eva’s write-up on Mom’s life got us started. Eva wrote a letter expressing her homesickness. She is at the Ranch. People come once in awhile—Eddy and Lanny were there for three days, but for the most part she is all alone. She works in the Heber Ward, but thinks often of home. Her situation could be depressing. Her health is so much better at the Ranch away from noise and the hustle of the city. But being alone, as I remember it from my childhood, can be tough. Eva’s paper on Mom emphasizing the “Trials and Tribulations of Elsie Vilate Owens Dewitt Flake” would seem to express her observations. We would hope instead for “The Genius of a Daughter of God,” who lived in pioneer times and pioneer conditions at their most trying (best or worst)—bore 10 children, raised 15 children and produced 12 families, 11 of which married in the temple of God and all live as God would have them – bringing to the earth a noble posterity now numbering in the hundreds and each one endowed with the Love of God – self worth – and a dedication to the service of their fellow beings as they endeavor to assist God in the establishment and going forth of His kingdom on this earth. Each endowed with the divine characteristics which were the heart and soul and sustaining power of this Christ-like woman, this daughter of God, who was my mother. She, in spite of personal tribulations, trials, or weaknesses always surfaced at the top and her great genius was that she brought those who were her charge in life and her fellow associates to the surface with her. With my mom, I never knew life was tough. We gloried in the blessings of our God and loved Him with our heart, might, mind, and soul. We lived life full and rich. Now I see more clearly, we lived as full and rich as the then circumstances permitted. But in some way, it was the top for me. Life was good. Now I know it was truly a daughter of God, my mom, who made it so. She is the cause—or largely so—of my salvation, if I gain a degree of exaltation. One of her greatest triumphs was the contribution she had in the growth, progress, and exaltation of a rough, tough fellow—her husband and my dad. No one is more aware of that influence than was he. The greatest desire of Dad’s life was and is to merit the celestial kingdom. She was and is, I believe, the greatest love of his life, and the greatest influence. Even though his youthful environment and up-bringing blessed or cursed him with a low self-image and an inability to express his love and admiration to those who were close to his heart, they were the most valued possessions of his life. He too came out on top. Thanks for and bless the day our Heavenly Father consigned us to this earthly station with this celestial soul—our mother and his wife.

The following are excerpts from the Autobiography of Clark Owens Flake: I was raised up there in those mountains with the family—the three families—Dad’s family, Mom’s family, and then their family. I was the oldest one of their family. The winters were bad and the snow deep and cold. We had lots of snow in the winter and it drifted up over the fences. There was lots of wind. For overshoes, we used to cut up gunny sacks and wrap our legs and our feet in the gunny sacks and tie them on with straw strings or wire. We used to grease our shoes with beef tallow so that they would be waterproof so the mud, snow and water wouldn’t hurt them. The only means of transportation we had was horses—team and buggy and wagon. We were raised in the simplest of ways with the simplest of food. Mom made most of our clothes by hand. We raised practically everything we ate. We used to take our wheat down to the grist mill where it was ground, and we brought back the flour, the bran, and the shorts. We fed the shorts and the bran to the livestock and had the flour for our own use. We produced our own meat. We used to raise hogs and sell them; we used to milk cows and sell the butter in Holbrook. I was expected to be a man, expected to do everything I could do. We had to fill the silos up in that country. We hauled the corn in from the fields with teams and wagons. We had men in the fields cutting the corn and loading the wagons. The men at the silo took the corn off the wagons, fed it into the chopper, and loaded it into the silos. I wasn’t big enough to do any of the field work, but I did drive the horses and wagons. Day after day during the harvest, I drove my team. The men in the field would load the wagon and I’d drive it to the silo where the men there would unload the wagon, and I’d drive it back to the field. There were other boys doing the same thing. All my life I had a knife of some sort and I took pride in it. I always did a great deal of whittling. I made chains, toy furniture and other things as I got a little older. When I was just a boy, I always had to work in the field with the older boys. I had four brothers older than I. I used to be assigned to hoe row for row with them in the field when I was only ten or eleven years old. We used to wrestle and scuffle from the time I can remember. I never had much trouble finding somebody to scuffle with me and play with me all my life at home. Mother encouraged it, but she encouraged it always in fun and no one ever got mad. We tried to excel and tried to be stronger than the others. My mother used to play with us kids a lot. When we got up in our teens we got to where we were always scuffling and playing. I remember Dennis used to pester Mom a lot. One time he threw water on her, and she chased him clear to the top of the big pine tree by the house with a big dipper of water. She poured the water on him and laughed and enjoyed herself with the rest of us. Mom used to correct me a lot when I was a boy. Dennis was sickly and not too strong, but he was an awful pest, and he’d pester and tease Robert. I used to give him a licking for what he did to Robert. Every time I’d lick him, Mom would give me a licking. She gave more lickings for licking Dennis than for all the other things I did all my life. After he’d tease Robert just so long that it was all I could stand, I’d jump into him and get him down on the ground. When I’d get him on the ground, then I could handle him and work him over. He’d go tell Mom and she would call me in and give me a paddling. I never resented it and I don’t resent it today. One of the lessons she taught me was that we had to suffer the consequences for our choices. Though I knew when I’d take him down and sit on him that I was going to get a paddling, I chose to do it rather than have him pestering Robert. I always said we used to get one pair of shoes each year whether we needed them or not. We nearly always had a new pair of shoes to start school with in the fall. We often started school late because we had to stay out until we got the crops harvested. Sometimes this was three or four weeks after school started, and we had to make it up by studying harder and doing more school work. That was life and the way the other boys in the mountains had to do it. Usually, it was just the little kids and the girls who started school at the beginning. To make a living and to have food to eat was the predominant thought of life—clothes to wear and food to eat. Other things were secondary. We had another trying experience in our family which showed the hand of the Lord. Polio was running wild in the country. One time, Mom and we kids were the only ones at the ranch and my brother Almon was struck with polio. He was nine years younger than I was and only two or three years old when it hit him. The agony he went through and the way the polio gripped him was something I can never forget. It drew the cords of his legs up so tight against his body that it drew his head right back between his shoulders. All of us boys were sleeping out in the old granary and I can remember one night how he suffered. I remember how Mom came out and rubbed him with consecrated oil. She tried to straighten him out, rubbing and pushing. We did everything we could. Then Mom had us all get down on our knees and again she had us pray. And then she talked to the Lord. She talked to the Lord about this little boy of hers who needed his health restored. She said we had done everything we could for him and it wasn’t sufficient. She asked the Lord if he wouldn’t restore him to his normal health and strength so that he might go though life and fulfill his mission. Within a short time, the tension was gone. Though the sickness stayed on for a few days and he still had cramps that took massaging to ease the pain and the muscles, he was healed and overcame polio. There was not a trace of it left in his body and his body was made perfect. He later played football, wrestled, played, ran and jumped like any normal boy. Again, I say it was because of the prayers of my mother. My mother spent her life trying to make people happy and in serving her family and friends. She always appeared happy and always put on a happy front before people. Everyone knew her because of her laugh. She was a lovable, wonderful woman. Our mother raised her step-children in such a way that people could live with us and not know which were her children and which were her step-children. That’s the way we were raised. We were never half-brothers and half-sisters, but always brothers and sisters. One of the stories that was told of us in Snowflake was when Dennis was leading me down the street. He was three years older than I. I was only two or three and Dennis was perhaps six or seven. We met one of our old aunties, She wanted to keep the record straight, so she said, “Dennis, you remember that Clark is only your half-brother?” Dennis was real slow of speech as a child, a country kid in town, but he looked up and said, “We don’t have any half-people in our family.” People who’ve know us all our lives don’t know which of us are brother and which are half-brothers. My mother is the one who accomplished this through her great love and teachings and sacrifice. She gave her complete life to her family and we will never be able to repay her for all the kindness she did. During one summer, we made the adobe and laid up a new school house. It was west of where Fred Turley lived. It was quite something. It was also the community center for all the ranchers around there. I remember as a kid that people used to come about two or three times a year to a big dance and social. They’d bring food and come and dance and have a big time. The music was fiddles and harmonicas. After supper, the kids would lie down on all the benches or in the wagons while the grown-ups would dance and have a big time. The year I was in fourth grade was the last year we were in the new school. When I was in fifth grade, we went back to Snowflake for school. This was the first I knew about town life, and the town kids didn’t hesitate to let me know that I was a hillbilly. But I was strong enough and tough enough to make account of myself and I didn’t have too much trouble. I didn’t go to school the year that I was supposed to be a sophomore. Mom and Dad kind of had a split-up and Mom took us kids (me and the younger ones) and went to Phoenix. Dewy (LeRoy) was going to support us. I started high school at Phoenix Union High School and went for six days. Then I decided that I’d stay out of school and help support the family. So, I sold my books and spent that year working. I worked in a drug store for a few days and got canned. I worked in a grocery store for awhile and then the depression hit. I got laid off because there was no business. I worked on the trucks with Dewy. He was working for Uncle Frank Owens driving truck, hauling citrus, grain, and fertilizer. I worked on the truck with him some, handling 70-pound boxes of fruit. I gained 65 pounds in the fifteen months from the time I got out of school as a freshman until I went back to school after working that year. People who’d known me all my life didn’t recognize me after I’d been away for those 15 months. I went from being the second or third smallest boy in the class to being one of the ten biggest. I grew tall and I grew broad, maintaining my strength in all that growth. The year that I spent in the Valley gave me a lot of experience and self-confidence that I never had before. I was very, very close to my mother and she continued to inspire me with faith and confidence. She used to say that she knew I wouldn’t get into much mischief because I was so noisy everybody knew where I was! I don’t know whether that was a compliment or not. I never went out at night but what when I came home I stepped to the door and spoke with my mother. As long as I lived in her home, I never came in without speaking to her. After my sophomore year, Dad took the family and moved to Old Mexico. He traded his property in Snowflake and we moved to Colonia Juarez. We worked there that summer and then Dennis and I decided to go back to Snowflake to go to high school. Robert and the younger kids stayed with Mom and Dad in Mexico for two years. During those two years, Dennis and I worked our way through high school. I worked for different people and lived with different people. I hauled wood and did everything in the world in order to have enough money to live on and to buy a few clothes so that I could go to school. That was the reason I never had time to study other than during school hours. At that time, a man’s wages were a dollar a day and that was good wages. A boy could get 50 to 75 cents if he could find a job, but you couldn’t always find one. Even some men couldn’t find jobs. This was the time of the depression when everything was in bad shape financially. For two years, I lived without the family and went through my junior and senior years of high school. The last part of my senior year, Dennis and I lived with Rowena. We worked and paid her for board and room. The end of my first year out of high school, Mom and Dad separated again and I helped support Mom and the younger kids. I got a subcontract job hauling mail from Aripine to Heber and to Holbrook and back three times a week. I used to saw wood into foot lengths and split it up into fire length and haul it to Holbrook for $5 a cord. Of course, we had a garden and a cow to milk and we made it. After two years helping to support Mom and family, I got married on February 28, 1936. Soon after that, Mom and Dad made up and Dad went to supporting the family again. In around 1948, we had one trip while up there (in Idaho) that we will never forget. We left the kids for the first time in our life and were gone for about eight days. We took my mother and dad and went with some other couples. There were three carloads of us. We went up through Idaho, through the eastern part of Oregon, crossed the panhandle of Idaho, through Glazier National Park, up through Canada, went through the Canadian Temple, came back down through western Montana, and down through Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Then we came up over the pass into Idaho by Twin Falls, on across by Craters of the Moon and the great lava flow that is there and then back home. We camped out at night and had a wonderful experience that I will never forget. It was the last such experience I ever had with my mother, though I enjoyed her for some time after we came down to Mesa. My mother died in 1952 at the ranch in the old Turley house. We were real happy she could be up there. She died in peace and contentment. She was buried in Woodruff where she wanted to be, with her first husband.

My Mother By Lucelia Flake Merkley, March 1985

Mama was as much a part of my life as the air I breathed and the sun in the sky. I remember her always making do with what she had. We had church in our house at the ranch. She put boards across boxes, logs, whatever, and covered them with quilts she had made for benches for people to sit on. They were made to feel welcome. When my sister, Rowena, came to visit with her husband, Mama had only flour. So we had baking powder biscuits and ‘cowboy pudding’ as she named the flour and water gravy. It was a feast at the ranch in Aripine. There was no store to go to and no money either. While we lived in Phoenix and Dewy (LeRoy) and Clark were supporting us and Mom got smallpox. I had to stay away from her. I would gladly have had the smallpox! I went with Mom to see Pa when he wanted to come back to us. They had been separated for nine months or such. Mom wanted to free her sons to live their own lives. Pa could be very nice, so we went back to Snowflake. The house across the wash from Snowflake was the best Pa ever provided for her. Then he traded it for one in Old Mexico, and she had to leave her loved piano. She wept over that piano. The years in Old Mexico were terrible, but even there she found relatives and made many new friends. She was “Aunt Elsie” to everyone, it seemed. She made herself a swimming suit and went with us to swim in the river. I was much older when I realized how wise she was to take us instead of sending us. I know she could have been “too busy.” She worked harder and did harder work than anyone else in my life. She washed those heavy home-made quilts that she made from pants pieces and old blankets. She washed them on the wash board. When wet, they were so heavy I couldn’t lift them. She took some pieces of leather and made a pair of shoes for me because she couldn’t bear to send me to school bare-footed when we had a freak snow fall in Colonia Juarez. Once when we were caught in a hail storm while we were swimming at the river, she stood over me and let the hail pound on her back. I remember thinking that she must really love me. The Sabbath was sacred to Mama. When the two of us were on the ranch alone, we’d take a quilt and go up in the trees. She’d read scriptures, and we played dominoes. So many things she taught were so natural that I scarcely knew I was being taught. She taught me to find joy in a beautiful sunset, to see pictures in the clouds, and to cheerfully make do with what we had. Once she complained that no one ever called her name, so she was “Elsie” to us for awhile. She would join in our water fights. I was thirteen the last time I sat on her lap to be comforted. It was after Almon, Velma, and I got lost. She still influences me by the things she taught me and the life she lived. She taught us faith in God, respect for those in authority, and gave us a real living testimony of the Church. Mama loved beautiful things. I hope Willie had a beautiful mansion waiting for her up there when she went to him. She surely did endure to the end. I wish I had done more for her. She lamented the los