Grant Halling Nelson

Once, long ago, in a magical, mountain town--there lived an idealistic family that loved each other very much. There was a papa who was tall, strong and protective. A mama who was sensitive, gentle and gregarious. Her talents, education and fun-loving ways made her a favorite where ever she went. Mama and Papa had met, courted, fallen in love and began a wonderful life together. He was a sheep-man and he sold the sheep for $12,000.00 and bought the ranch from Iver Iverson who was a horticulturist. He had grafted many of the trees in the orchard. One apple tree had four different varieties on it. They were prosperous and sold milk, cream, butter and garden produce to their neighbors. They had a large patch of strawberries and sold them as far away as Cokeville, Rock Springs, and Kemmerer, Wyoming. Girls from Mantua would stay in tents behind the house to pick the strawberries. They had a nice home on the ranch and a brand new, red brick house in town with all the modern conveniences. But, best of all were the the beautiful and bright children! Virginia with her red hair and independent, mischievous nature. Rhoda a serious, refined and statuesque child with thick, dark ringlets, Oleen steady and strong. Little Rhea still rolly-polly in her young toddler years. And--the young family had a secret. Soon they would welcome a brand new baby! Very soon another precious soul would join their number. There was so much to be done! Booties needed to be knitted. Prepare the cradle and bake some bread. Yet, as the warm days of summer wore on and the hot days of August came they knew the arrival of a new bundle was near. Finally, the time had come, and a healthy, ruddy baby boy was born and their joy was full. Virginia and Rhoda were so accommodating and happy to help their mama and she was grateful. How she loved her family and now she nestled little Grant close to her bosom and wept with happiness and relief. Another baby in the house meant there was a lot to be done, but one baby took all your time... How could five do any more than that? Fall gave way to winter and the baby grew. By spring he was walking-- though, his legs were slightly bowed. On his birthday they had a cake, a celebration and little Grant sat contentedly upon the lap of his beautiful mother as the teasing and chaos tumbled all around. Grant didn't sit contentedly very often. He was all boy. He climbed and ran. He skipped and wrestled. He was constant energy-in-motion but his brother and sisters watched out for him and kept him safe. He loved his Papa and when Ole P. came in from work he would scoop him up in his massive arms, hold him upon his knee and feed him dinner. By the the time dinner came around at mid-day he was hungry. Papa would play with the children for awhile then go back to to work for the afternoon. When he came in later in the day he took care to help his wife with the heavy chores and then for supper they would share their bread and milk. Sometimes sprinkling it with sugar. Strawberries from the ranch in spring and always apples of every variety. Then in the evening Mama would sit at the upright, grand piano she had purchased while she taught school in Lynn (Western Box Elder County) and play the happy tunes that she loved so well. And hymns of praise to God. , Truth Reflects Upon our Senses, Praise to the Man and Welcome, Welcome Sabbath Morning were some of their favorites. This was an eternal family sealed in the bonds of holy temple vows. Sometimes Papa would play the guitar and when there was a lull he would play and sing, “Oh when I was single my pockets would jingle, How I'd love to be single again!” Ans all would laugh with glee. He sang well and along with the guitar he played the violin, drums, harmonica and rattled bones. All around them in the small town were relatives. Parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Many immigrated here from far across the sea in Denmark and the language and traditions were apparent. On Saturday nights there were dances in the old Amusement Hall and everyone came. Even Danish folks from Logan and Brigham City would come to join in the festivities. They would take off their wooden shoes and line them up against the walls then dance and sing. Papa played the snare drums in the brass band. Out in the yard Papa made many fun things for the children and the neighborhood kids to do. There was a merry-go-round made from a wagon wheel, a swing, a teeter-totter, and a tree ride the we would know as a zip line. How could life be better? Grant continued to grow and his second birthday came with all the festivities. And Mama and Papa had a secret, soon they would welcome another brand new baby. On September 12, 1919 Winston was born to complete their family. One short month later on October 10, just one day shy of Papa's birthday Mama died in the in the Purse Hospital in Brigham City after surgery for alleged appendicitis. As Rhea said, “When Mama died, I think the light went out of all our lives. (I can hardly even write of it now, after 60 some odd years)”.