Uncle Gordy

With his gravelly voice and unpredictable behavior, my uncle Gordon used to scare me. Growing up, I spent many an afternoon at my grandmother's house in Brigham City. It was a gathering place for my mother's family and it's where we visited and got our news as to the goings-on of different family members. And while I can honestly say I dearly loved all my aunts and uncles, Uncle Gordon made me the most nervous. Gordy was just Gordy. He was somewhat of a no-nonsense, say-it-how-it-is kind of guy. He was an avid hunter,fisherman and sometimes-drinker who always smelled of dirt, Elsha cologne and cigarette smoke. He was so very different from my dad and other men in my life that I didn't know what to make of him. I didn't know what to think of him. So I did what most children do: I stayed away from him and feared him.
It surprised me to find myself thinking of him last Saturday morning. I was in Caitlyn's car, waiting to pull it into the driveway before we left for Bear Lake. If you've read my earlier posts, you realize that there's a "situation" with her car and the fact that it's a stick and the fact that she's refusing to learn to drive it. Anyway, as I was waiting for Brook to finish up things and pull out of the driveway I had a few minutes to sit and think. As I waited, a memory came to me of a time when I, myself, was 16 and driving my first car. It was a stick shift as well. I worked in Brigham City and would go to my grandma's often before or after work. I remember Gordon out in the car with me giving me advice on driving it. Apparently I was doing something wrong and blah, blah, blah (insert car talk lingo here such as riding the clutch, belt, motor, whatever). Obviously, it was all lost on me and he could have been speaking Russian for all I knew. But the memory was there of him patiently trying to help me and I appreciated it. The thought came to me that he did try in his own way to help people and show love. I appreciated that memory out of nowhere because later that day Gordon was killed when a dump truck ran a red light and hit Gordon's car, killing him instantly.
In the days that followed, happier memories began to surface.
I am so thankful for them.
Good memories are replacing the unpleasant ones. I'm remembering him as a man who did as good as he knew how. I'm remembering deer hanging in the carport, pheasants buried in the backyard and fish frying in the kitchen. I'm remembering his constant companion Jasper, an ugly little dog who followed him everywhere. I'm remembering Gordon seated at my wedding breakfast and coming to the hospital years later when Caitlyn was born so early. I'm remembering the clarity in his eyes when I ran into him out shopping and the pleasant conversation which followed. I'm remembering him as a true individual and one-of-a-kind. I'm realizing he was someone I should have feared less and tried harder to love in life. I love you and will miss you Gordy!!!

Raspberry Jam

Bear Lake is famous for its raspberries. It has the most delicious fresh raspberries which, in turn, make delicious raspberry shakes, raspberry syrup, raspberry jams. I LOVE raspberry jam, especially homemade raspberry jam made with love. My parents have always had freezer jams ready to share with family and friends. Brook and my children have inherited my love of the sweet goodness and our yearly supply never quite lasts us through the year.

Before school began this year, Brynn and I headed to my mother's, aprons in hand, to carry on the tradition. It was cute to see Brynn help and participate in the small ways she could. It was her job to mash the raspberries (she was a pro at it),

to put the lids on the jars once they were filled, and to entertain us with her stories. I don't know how much she enjoyed it, but I know I loved having her there as the 3rd generation. I hope we're set for another year (or at least until March).