Hulda Parker

Historical Excerpts in the Life Sketch of Hulda Parker Young

Birth and Ancestry

It was on Mother’s Day, Sunday, May 8, 1921, in Richfield, Sevier County, Utah, when as a very plain, red-faced baby I began my period of probation here in mortality. Although the family was living in Joseph, Sevier County, Utah, at the time, mother had been taken to the Richfield hospital and was staying at the home of her sister, Minnie Olsen Hansen (Amasa Hansen).

I was blessed on June 19, 1921, by my father, Joseph William Parker, in a regular fast and testimony meeting in the Joseph Ward, Sevier Stake. As the incident has been handed down to me, father and mother had considered many possible names for me, but up until the time they were walking up the steps into the church house, they had not decided on one. Grandfather Parker had wanted me named Liberty in honor of a sister of his, Exile Liberty Parker, who had been born in Nauvoo, Illinois, just before the saints were driven from exile and made the trek across the plains in quest of their liberty. However, mother would not agree to this name, saying that she didn’t want the children to sing the “Star Spangled Banner” to me when I went to school. As father and mother were going up the steps into the church, father said, “Why don’t we name her Huldah?” Mother was in full agreement with this name which was in honor of father’s oldest sister, whom both father and mother held in very high regard. So, I was named Huldah Parker. Although on all church records my name is and should be spelled with the “h” on the end, in my daily usage, I have dropped the last “h” and write it just H-u-l-d-a.

My parents are Joseph William Parker and Olena Matilda Olsen Dalton Parker. This was the second marriage for both father and mother, their first wife and husband having passed away. Father was first married to Margret Jane Neel on November 4, 1885, in the St. George Temple. They had fourteen children, four of whom died in infancy, but the other ten lived to maturity and all have married. The names and birth dates of these, my half brothers and sisters, are as follows: Margrette Iretta, born July 24, 1886; Joseph William and Josiah Smith, twins, born October 16, 1887, and who passed away the same day; James Elbert, born September 20, 1888; Myrtle, born May 10, 1891, and died February 5, 1929; Leonard Neel, born June 5, 1893, and died June 10, 1893; Ervin Stanley, born October 21, 1894; Maurine, born May 31, 1898; Aaron Clayton, born January 23, 1900; Iona Mae, born May 7, 1902; Alton Ellsworth, born April 25, 1904; Madeline, born January 19, 1906; Melba, born December 25, 1907; and Alburn Neel, born April 12, 1911, who died. Father’s first wife, Margret Jane, died May 22, 1911, as a result of complications incident to the birth of her last child.

Mother’s first husband was Edward M. Dalton, whom she married in the Manti Temple on April 15, 1903. He passed away on September 16, 1903, as a result of injuries received in a faulty blast in the Log Cabin Mine in Marysvale, Utah, leaving mother a widow at only 21 years of age. Five months later, on February 29, 1904, their only child Edna Matilda Dalton was born.

Following Uncle Ed’s death, mother worked and supported herself, Edna, and her mother who lived with her. They lived in Richfield, Utah, and mother worked in what was called the Model Store. She apparently received a very meager salary, as I recall it, around $12.50 per month, and working usually from ten to twelve hours per day. During this period of time, she had resolved in her heart that she would never marry again, but she would devote her life to raising her daughter.

However, a few years later, she made the acquaintance of my father mainly through the association of father’s sister, Ella, who was serving with mother on a stake board. When the possibility was first considered of father and mother marrying, Grandmother Olsen opposed it quite vigorously, feeling that it was too much of an undertaking for mother to take Edna and go into father’s family of ten living children, and assume the role of stepmother for them. Three of the children were married, but seven were still living at home. However, after giving the matter much faith, prayers, and deliberation, father and mother felt it was the Lord’s will for them to be united in marriage. So, on June 10, 1914, they were married in the Manti Temple, Manti, Utah.

At the time of their marriage, mother was serving as County and City Recorder in Richfield, and inasmuch as her term did not expire until January 1 of 1915, she could not move to Joseph until that time. However, she brought Madeline and Melba, who were then just eight and seven years of age, to Richfield, and they lived with her and went to school in Richfield with Edna. When her term expired, they all moved to the big rock home which father had built in Joseph, Utah.

Although mother and father, of course, had many adjustments and problems in raising their two families as one, their determination to succeed in this undertaking, their unselfish attitudes, and their constant desire to serve the Lord and do His will, sustained them in their difficulties. As I have heard various members of the family reminisce about their experiences together “on the farm,” I could not help but have admiration and respect for both father and mother for their courage in accepting such an undertaking. Although each, of course, had their weaknesses, from my vantage point, I can imagine their undertaking would not have succeeded to the degree it did had both of them not had some of the noble qualities of character that they did possess.

Father was most strict in his discipline, yet he was also strict in being sure that justice and right prevailed, as he was able to see it. He was a hard worker, and all of the family were taught that they too must work and each share in the heavy burden of work to be done in maintaining such a large family, running a farm, and operating a dairy herd.

Mother also was a hard worker, a most unselfish person, and one who was especially gifted with the rare quality of making peace and of succeeding in resolving misunderstandings and contentions that may arise in such a family. Many times her own heartaches and hurts were smothered in order that peace and harmony might prevail. As a whole, they were a happy, industrious, and God-fearing family.

Following the union of my parents, they were blessed with four more children, all daughters, I being the youngest. These, my only full sisters are Mary, born May 19, 1915; Olena, born August 31, 1917, and died July 29, 1930; Olive, born May 29, 1919; and then, of course, I was born May 8, 1921. This makes a total of nineteen of my father’s and mother’s children combined.

I have always felt proud to be a member of our family and am grateful that we are such a large family. I love each of my brothers and sisters and feel that as a family, the Lord has blessed us abundantly over the years, the greatest blessing of which is our membership in His Church and the choice heritage through which we have been privileged to be born.

Father is the second child and oldest son of Joseph Faulkner Parker and Mary Elizabeth Ross. He was born November 19, 1864, in Heber City, Utah. His father was one of the early members of the church who lived the principle of polygamy having two wives - my grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Ross, whom he married on June 30, 1861, and Adelia Cooley, whom he married on June 11, 1889. Grandfather had seventeen children – eleven by my grandmother and six by his second wife, Adelia. When still in their early youth, grandfather, about eleven, and grandmother, about four, made the trek across the plains with their families with the Mormon pioneers.

Grandmother with her parents, Thomas and Rachel Ross Smith, arrived in the Salt Lake Valley with the Aaron Johnson Company on the sixth of September, 1850. Her family settled in Provo, Utah, and then about ten years later, they moved to Heber City, Wasatch County, Utah. Grandfather arrived in the Salt Lake Valley in the fall of 1852 with his widowed mother and her five children, the oldest being only 16 years of age and grandfather eleven. Near the last part of their journey, Great-grandmother, Martha Ann Nelson Parker, traveled alone with her family. She refused to continue with the company to California to the gold rush, but instead, left them, trusting in the Lord for guidance as she made her way on to Salt Lake, feeling in her heart she was doing the right thing and that the Lord would protect them and aid her in getting her children to Utah in safety. After many days, however, they overtook another company and traveled with them the remainder of the trip on into Salt Lake Valley.

Father was raised in a typical Mormon pioneer home where living conditions were very humble, but where the spirit of sacrifice and dedication to the work of the Lord was uppermost in their lives. He was taught the value of hard work and knew much of outdoor life and the privations incident to pioneering. There was instilled in his heart a love for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, a deep abiding faith in his Father in Heaven and the power of the priesthood, and an unquenchable yearning for progression, intellectual advancement, and acceptance to the challenge of “making the desert blossom as a rose.”

Throughout his life, he was always active in positions of leadership in the church. In February of 1895, he accepted a call to fulfill a mission in the Southern States Mission, leaving his wife and four small children at home to manage for themselves with the assistance of his brothers. They also gave him any small assistance they could. He served as bishop of the Joseph Ward and as second counselor in the Sevier Stake Presidency under President Magleby. He also served in the stake and ward MIA and as an officer in the High Priests Quorum. He was especially gifted as a speaker and teacher of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and was one who firmly believed in speaking according to the promptings of the Spirit. He studied the scriptures daily, which constantly kept alive within his heart the true spirit of the Gospel. He possessed a great gift of healing and blessing through the power of the Priesthood. His entire life was dedicated to the cause of truth and righteousness, and never was he known to compromise on principle and right as he understood it, regardless of what the consequences might be. Although he probably was not fully understood and appreciated by his family during his lifetime because of his strictness, his noble teachings, exemplary life, and full and complete dedication to righteousness have come to be a source of constant inspiration and guidance to his children.

Mother is the daughter of Oluf Olsen, Sr., and Maren Olava Larsen. She was born on June 5, 1882, in Richfield, Sevier County, Utah, and was the third of four children, three girls and one boy. Mother’s parents were both converts to the church and emigrants from Norway. Grandfather Olsen was born on August 6, 1844, in Oslo, Norway, and Grandmother was born on May 4, 1846, in Eitsvold, in northern Norway. Grandfather, the son of Ole Balesen and Marie Abalone Hansdotter, was one of ten children, seven of whom died in infancy. His father, a carpenter, through bad associations in his work, acquired the habit of drinking. Because of this, much of the support of the family fell upon his mother. She worked as a gardener-woman for an English General Consul. Because of his mother’s work, grandfather was often alone in his early childhood to fare as best he could.

When about 20 years of age, while working with his mother as a gardener, he became acquainted with some Mormon bricklayers. They gave him a Book of Mormon and told him much about the Mormon teachings, but because of the opposition and prejudice from his parents and family, he didn’t join the church at that time, although he felt within his heart that it was the right and true church. About seven years later, while working as a fireman for the railroad, he was brought to a sudden realization of his standing before God. In his own words, he said, “I came into rough company with little opportunity to visit the meetings of the Saints. I never felt good. Mormonism always stood before me, but the 10 th of October, 1871, in the morning as I was working, there came such a deep regret and shame over my own position that I broke out in tears and had to hurry and hide myself from my fellow workers, but then there came a voice to me which said, ‘God desires no sinner’s death, but he desires that they shall repent and live.’ From that moment, I resolved that if I, in one month from that day, could keep myself from bad company and everything that I knew wasn’t right, I would go and be baptized for the remission of my sins. I prayed to God in all earnestness that he would strengthen me in the good and keep me from evil.” On the evening of November 8, 1871, he was baptized into the church.

For the next five years, he devoted most of his time and energies to missionary work in his native land. On June 19, 1877, he set sail from Christiania for Zion. Maren Olava Larsen was also in the same company. She was the daughter of Lars Halversen and Berte Maria Hendriksdatter, and was one of six children. Her father passed away when she was only five and a half years of age, and because of her mother’s inability to support all the children, she and two of her brothers and sisters were raised in the homes of friends where they had to work for their living. She spent much of her youth herding cows and goats on the hills of northern Norway. She received the gospel in Eitsvold in February of 1876. Grandmother and Grandfather became acquainted while on the boat and while making the journey across the plains. They arrived in Richfield, Utah, on July 23, 1877, and were married the following October 26 th. They made their home in Richfield, Utah.

Grandfather’s main occupation was farming although the winter of 1879, he spent herding sheep in the mountains. Because of the extreme cold and exposure he experienced, he developed rheumatism which increased in severity until he became a complete invalid. Grandmother, with the help of the children, therefore, assumed the burden of supporting the family. With Grandfather’s background in gardening, he supervised the children, mother and her brother and sister, in caring for most of their garden, which together with the family cow was their main means of livelihood.

Theirs was a humble and simple home, but one in which love and kindness were ever present. Grandmother was a very industrious and untiring worker. Mother said that in her early childhood, one of her most vivid memories is that of going to sleep and awakening to the rhythm of Grandmother working the shuttle as she spent hours and hours weaving to help support the family, receiving only as much as eight and ten cents per yard for the finished product. Apparently, Grandfather’s illness and suffering must have had a humbling and mellowing influence upon the family, which tended to make them a very closely knit family. In spite of their meager fare, they always had plenty to share with their friends and others who may be in need, including the Indians and other saints who would travel to Richfield to attend the stake conferences. Grandfather and Grandmother always remained true to their testimonies and their faith in the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ, which had been the motivating factor in their leaving their native land and coming to Zion.

Following her completion of school, which included about one year of high school, mother passed a special teacher’s examination, and with five additional weeks of summer school at Mt. Pleasant, she obtained a teaching position at Annabella, Utah, where she taught for three years. It was while there that she met Uncle Ed, her first husband.

52 of the 69 years since mother first married, she has been a widow. Most of that period, she had to carry a heavy burden in meeting the financial needs of the family as well as the anxiety and strain of having to make the decisions and meet the problems alone that came into her life. She had truly been a pillar of strength in carrying forward in spite of hardships and discouragements. She had ever kept her faith in the Lord and had continued to count her many blessings ever remembering that never had we been without sufficient food, clothing, and shelter. Many were the testimonies she could bear of the times the Lord had guided her in meeting her problems and in opening up the way for us to receive the things of which we had been in need.

Through the years, she too has been active in positions of leadership in the ward and stake having served in both the ward and stake in Relief Society and MIA, in various teaching positions, and in temple and genealogical work.

Life in Richfield , Draper, and Taylorsville

The earliest recollections in my childhood were when we lived in Richfield in what we called the Hendrickson home. I was about four and a half years old then. Our home was a two-story frame home located on a corner lot in a fairly good residential section of southeastern Richfield. Father and my brother, Ervin, were operating a dairy herd there and retailing bottled milk in a horse-drawn milk wagon. I can remember how I used to like to ride in the milk wagon with “Papa,” as we called him. One lovely spring day after he had returned from delivering the milk, he came in the house and told mother he was going downtown to the post office, and they were discussing some business matters he was to take care of there. I asked if I could ride down with him. He looked at me and noticed that I was not cleaned up and replied that I had better stay home this time.

I wanted very much to go, and so while he was talking with Mother, I ran out and climbed in the milk wagon and hid under the seat. A few minutes later, he came out, climbed in the wagon, and we were off for town. I don’t know why, but I thoroughly enjoyed that ride to town even though I was riding under the seat. When we got to the post office, Father went in to take care of his business, and I stayed in the wagon. It got harder and harder under that seat, and so finally I crawled out and got up into the front. It seemed like I waited eternities, but Father didn’t return. I don’t believe anyone enjoyed getting downtown and talking with the men more than Father did. They were always constructive conversations, but my father was blessed with a fluent and prolific gift of speech.

When I was sure I had waited for hours, I went in the post office to find him. There he was with a group of six or seven men enthusiastically engaged in a conversation. I very quietly walked up and took hold of his hand. He turned around and looked at me in amazement and exclaimed, “Where did you come from?” I very calmly answered, “Oh, under the seat in the wagon.” The men all enjoyed a hearty laugh, and Papa, with a very pleased grin, gripped my hand a little tighter and said, “We will go home in a few minutes.”

In his heart, I believe he was pleased to think that I wanted to go with him so badly that I would hide under the seat. For the return trip, I very proudly rode up in the front seat with Papa, and I believe we both enjoyed the ride back home.

Mother often said that I could get away with almost anything with Papa, at least much more than any of the other children seemed to be able to do. I guess I was too free to be afraid of his strict manners. However, all of us children knew that when Papa spoke in his voice of authority, we all obeyed and did not resist. Underneath the strictness, though, there was a very tender and loving heart which not so many people understood and recognized.

When I was about five years old, we moved from Richfield to Draper, Utah. Father, apparently, had an unquenchable yearning to get nearer to institutions of higher learning and also the temples so that in their later years, he and mother could go to the temples more often, and also so that we younger children could have better opportunities for college training. As we have looked back over the years at the things that have transpired since making our move to Draper, I believe, mother and we girls, at least, feel that it was definitely the hand of the Lord in having Father move us there at the time he did.

Father sold his interests in the property at Joseph and invested it in a 100 acre greasewood and alkali farm in Draper. It was the only unproductive tract of land in the area, and in father’s far-seeing vision, he could see that tract of land brought under cultivation and made to “blossom as the rose” as the rest of the land in the area. However, almost all of the farmers in that section discouraged father in this undertaking, saying that because of the high water table, the land could never be drained and be made to produce. Nevertheless, father purchased the farm, and in March of 1926, moved household, cows, and dairy equipment to this new location. Father had gone up a few months earlier and had built a barn, a small milk house for processing the milk, and a chicken coop. The plan was for us to live in this new chicken coop for just a couple of years until father could get established a bit, and then he would build anew and lovely home, and use the coop for chickens. In the chicken community of Draper, this was quite a common practice, especially for families that were just trying to get established.

We all worked hard in this new endeavor. Mother was up at five o’clock each morning with father assisting with the milking of some 20 cows together with Ervin’s help, and also again in the evenings. After a few months, Edna, my sister, and her husband, Byron Parker, father’s youngest half brother, came to assist with the retailing of the milk. It was not long until they had worked up a good business in Draper, Riverton, and Salt Lake. Everyone assisted – Edna, even though she was having a young family, mother, and us girls.

As soon as the weather was pleasant enough to permit it, we girls would herd the cows on various sections of the farm and along the sides of the highway where they would feed on the tall grass that was growing so abundantly. In the summertime, the schedule was for two of us to go together, and we would take turns taking the cows out as soon as breakfast was over in the mornings, and then again in the early evenings after they had been milked and keep them until dark. Although we thought this was quite a burden at the time, we had many enjoyable hours.

For years, mother and father had preserved the church publications, which at that time were the Juvenile Instructor and Young Men’s and the Young Women’s Improvement Era. Each of these publications carried many wholesome, interesting, and faith-promoting stories. Each time we would go out to herd cows, we would take with us one of these magazines. In this manner, I believe that each of us girls read almost all of those magazines from cover to cover. As I look back now, I am most grateful for those experiences, for I believe this was the beginning of my love and appreciation for our church publications. We had very little other reading material in our home, and there was no library from which we could borrow books. I believe that this reading also had a great influence on the development of our faith and testimonies of the Gospel.

From these experiences also, I remember finding a love for nature and the outdoors. I was always happy when Papa would let us take the cows down in the far southwest corner of the farm. There was a little jog in our tract of land there which was bordered by an irrigation ditch, and then just over the fence on the adjoining land, there was a lovely tree with tall soft grass underneath. Also at this point, the irrigation ditch took on more the semblance of a babbling creek. If the cows were not too difficult to handle in this section, it meant that we could recline for a while under this tree, make little baskets out of the colorful little huckle burrs that could be found nearby, or we could make chains out of the snake grass.

If our instructions were to take the cows on one of the intersections of the farm where the land had been irrigated, it was always fun to find a little irrigating furrow where the soil was smooth and soft from the water flowing over it. In these spots, it was always intriguing to write our names in the soil, draw pictures, or even leave our footprints.

I shall always remember too our methods of signaling to one another when it was time to bring the cows in. If it was in the daytime and we were located where we could see the house, a white flag was hoisted when it was time to bring the cows in. If it was in the evening, our sign was to be able to see at least five stars starting to twinkle before we could take the cows for home. It was at this time that I had my first course in astronomy and learned the location of the North Star, and to recognize the Big and Little Dippers and the Milky Way. We learned that if we kept our eyes riveted on the heavens, we could often detect a twinkle of a star just shortly after sundown.

I think it was at this time too that I learned to appreciate the beautiful sunsets we have in the mountains at home. I don’t believe more beautiful sunsets can be found anywhere than what we had many, many times over that western range of mountains and with the reflection on the Great Salt lake in the distance.

It was while herding cows that I first heard the singing of the crickets and became aware of snakes, rabbits, and skunks.

At the time, many of these experiences did not seem so pleasant because often we would come home weary and exhausted from the heat and the long and tiring trek we had made. However, as I look back on these experiences now, I have a warmth in my heart and sometimes long to go back over those same paths and those same cow trails.

I remember how diligently we worked under father’s supervision to clear the sage brush and greesewood that covered most of those hundred acres. Father would go over the land plowing it up, and we would follow, pulling up the uprooted brush and piling it in huge piles to be burned. The burning of one of these piles of brush was a joyous occasion. Always, we would do it in the evenings after we had returned from herding cows and invited the “neighbor kids,” Smiths and Riskas, to join us. These were two wonderful families that lived on the highway not far from us. Each family had four children about our same ages, and the most fun times we could have were to get together with them for an evening of “Kick the Can,” “Run Sheepy Run,” or “Beckon Me Out.”

When we had a pile of sage brush to burn, it was a special occasion. While the huge bonfire, sometimes eight or nine feet high, was burning down, we would play to our hearts’ content. Then as the flames would get lower and the coals still red, we would fill them with potatoes to roast. Never did potatoes taste so delicious as those we would fish out of the hot coals and smother with butter and salt.

If there was not a bonfire to burn, we would still get together with the Smiths and Riskas two or three nights a week for our games. In the yard of each home, we had a large yard light which made it most ideal for our recreation, and we would, of course, take turns being host. During the winter months when we couldn’t get outside, we would frequently congregate at one of our homes for a candy pull and a game of Rook or Pit.

My early childhood was also characterized by very strict and complete religious training. I do not remember the time when we left for a day’s activities or retired for bed when we did not unite in family prayer. This was something very sacred in father’s eyes, and it mattered not if strangers were with us, Mormons or non-Mormons, they were always invited to join with us in prayer. It was just understood that we all went to Sunday School and Sacrament Meeting on Sundays, although we were often late. It seemed so hard to get all of the chores done and get there on time. However, we would all climb into the Model T Ford Coupe and go to church. The Coupe was small for the six of us, and so father took the lid off the trunk in the back and built in a little bench for us children to sit on. Usually the three oldest girls would ride on the bench, and I would curl up on the shelf by the back window inside the Coupe. Nevertheless, we always managed.

Sunday afternoons, we were never permitted to go to shows or engage in any type of boisterous activities. I remember on one occasion how I wanted to go swimming in the irrigation ditch in front of our place. It was alright on weekdays, but on Sundays, no. It did no good to coax and plead, the answer was no!

I also remember the ward teachers coming to our home and the most spiritual religious discussions when many friends called to spend an evening. I was, of course, too small to understand the significance of many of their discussions, but I always enjoyed listening, for there was always such a good spirit, and I could feel a warmth and glow within my heart as I would listen to father relate some of his faith-promoting experiences and explain the Gospel to others.

Just shortly after the 4 th of July in 1930, the folks took my second oldest sister, Olena, to the doctor. She had been complaining of such extreme headaches and general lack of energy and vitality. This condition became even more severe until the doctor requested she be taken to the LDS Hospital in Salt Lake and placed in an isolation room until they could definitely diagnose her trouble. Her condition continued to grow worse until she went into a state of coma and her left side became paralyzed. Mother stayed with her almost night and day for the period of almost three weeks. She was administered to several times, and every medical assistance available was giver her.

Finally, it was determined that she had a tumor on the brain and that if she did live, she would probably be paralyzed and be an invalid for life. When Sister Smith, our neighbor, learned of this, she came to mother and pleaded with her not to pray for Olena to live, but to let her pass on, if it was the Lord’s will. She then told of a similar experience she had with one of her daughters, Lucille, and how she, Sister Smith, just would not reconcile herself to Lucille’s passing. As a result, the Lord did spare her life, but her once beautiful body was now crippled and deformed. When Sister Smith explained the sorrow and anguish this had been to them, the folks were able to realize more fully that there are many things worse than death.

On July 29, 1930, Olena passed away, and her funeral was held in the Draper Ward. I was nine years old at the time and remember well the events that transpired. Edna and Byron were living across the street from Riska’s then. One of the children had scarlet fever, and so Edna was quarantined with the three children. She was then expecting her fourth child, Doris, and the folks felt it unwise for her to be there alone with the children and in that condition. It being necessary for Byron to stay with my folks so that he could be free from the quarantine in order to deliver the milk, I was staying with Edna to be of any assistance I could to her. Therefore, when Olena passed away, we were unable to go to her funeral.

I remember when they brought her home in the casket, the folks let Edna and me slip over one night and view her through the window. This was the closest we were permitted to be around the other members of the family. On the day of the funeral, I remember our standing out by the fence watching the funeral procession go by.

Olena was 13 years of age at the time of her passing. She was a tall slender girl with a very graceful form. She loved dancing and had become quite an accomplished ballet dancer. It was a shock for all of us at the time of her passing, but it seemed that this was not all that the Lord required of us, for only five weeks later, on September 3, 1930, father also passed away. He had seemed to be in good health, and only on one occasion a couple of weeks before his passing did he show any signs of failing. He seemed to recover readily, though, and go ahead with his usual heavy farm duties.

The night before his passing, Uncle Bob (R. D. Young), father’s sister’s husband stopped to spend the night with us en route to Salt Lake from his home in Richfield. This was one of those occasions when they discussed religion and visited late into the evening. The next morning about five o’clock, the usual time for rising, when mother seemed to be just rousing, she was startled by noticing that father was breathing extra heavily. She spoke to him and shook him trying to arouse him, but there was no response. He passed away in his sleep there by mother’s side. The doctors reported the cause of his death being a stroke. Father had always hoped that when the time came for him to go, he would be able to go suddenly and not linger on and suffer. Truly, his was a sweet passing for him.

However, this second shock to mother within such a short time was almost more than she could bear. The Lord blessed her with His sustaining power, and the many, many kindnesses of the good people in Draper helped her to find the hope and determination to carry on. Father’s funeral was also held in the Draper Ward with Bishop Alma F. Smith conducting. Even though I was very young at the time, I shall never forget the spirit of that occasion. It seemed that I had never seen so many people crowd into our chapel, nor had I felt such a sweet spirit as was present in the funeral service. The music was beautiful, one of the numbers which was sung being “Oh, My Father,” father’s favorite. Among the speakers were Uncle Bob, Crozier Kimball, Bishop Alma F. Smith, and one of father’s missionary companions, Brother Ed Heppler. The interment was in the Draper Cemetery, in the same lot where Olena had also been buried.

Although we had lived in Draper only four years, the folks had made many, many friends and had come to be loved and respected by all who knew them. It would be difficult to enumerate the many kindnesses extended to mother following father’s passing, including the cancellation of doctor bills, the hardware bill, and other assistance in the way of food, money, and employment. Truly, the Lord did not leave us alone, but through mother’s diligence and faith, opened up the way for us to receive those things of which we were in need.

At the time of father’s passing, I was nine years old, Olive eleven, and Mary fifteen. When the estate and financial matters were straightened out with all the family, Mother was to keep the dairy herd and two and a half acres of land, and each of father’s children were given seven and a half acres. This made a total of 25 acres for mother and us three children together with the dairy herd, from which we were to make our living. The land, of course, was still mortgaged, which meant that each child would also assume his portion of the mortgage. Mother was also to carry on with the debts and obligations which she and father had previously incurred which included expenses in our getting established in Draper, doctor and hospital and funeral bills, and other miscellaneous items. All in all, it made a total of around $3,000, which we were to clear, and at the same time, the country was undergoing a severe financial depression.

Ervin stayed with us on the farm, as did also Edna and Byron for a few years, and together we tried to make our living by maintaining the dairy herd and the milk route. Mother also accepted every opportunity for employment on the side, which consisted mainly of doing housework by the day for various people there in Draper. It was indeed a difficult struggle for all.

In the summer of 1933, Edna and Byron purchased a home in Taylorsville, Utah, located on 4800 South and about two miles west of Murray. It was the old estate of Aunt Ella Olsen’s mother and father. Inasmuch as mother was having a very difficult time supporting us children, and Edna felt that she could well use my assistance in caring for her four young children, it was decided that I move to Taylorsville with Edna and Byron also.

So in the fall of 1933, I entered junior high school in Taylorsville in what was known as the Plymouth School. The first six years of my schooling I had received in Draper at the Draper Park School. My first grade teacher was Mrs. Willda M. Beck, the wife of our principal, Reed Beck. When I was in the second grade, I was placed in a mixed class of half second graders and half fourth graders. As I recall, there were about 16 of each. It just so happened that Olive was also in that same class, she being a fourth grader. It was understood that our class constituted the faster section of each grade. Olive and I continued together in this setup for three years, completing the fourth and sixth grades together. The following year, she went into the junior high school, and I continued in a mixed class composed of fifth and third graders, and also the following year in my sixth grade.

One of the disadvantages of such a setup was that there were very few girls within our own class from whom we could select our friends. In fact, there were only six of us. It seemed that frequently there was quarreling and contention among us. Some of the girls were from very well-to-do families, and it seemed that they were constantly vying for supremacy, and the other girls in our class were in a position of determining to whom they would give their loyalty. As I look back now, I can see that this condition had a very negative effect upon my personality and increased somewhat my emotional maladjustments. In fact, I believe it was from this time when I first started developing very severe inferiority feelings. I, of course, did not have the money to spend that the other girls did, nor the clothes or standard of living that was theirs. Also, the frequent quarrels which we had, often requiring the attention of the teacher or even the principal to reconcile, added to my frustrations.

Because of this unpleasant school situation, I was actually happy to make the change and go to Taylorsville to school. It seemed that that was the beginning of a new era for me in my school work and associations, for from then on, I had beautiful friendships and associations with my schoolmates. Consistently throughout most of my schooling, I had good grades usually being A’s, some B’s.

During my time in Taylorsville, I was very active in my church work, always attending meetings on Sundays and MIA on Tuesdays. At that time, Edna and Byron were not very active in the church, and so usually I would go with the children or alone.

The depression was still very severe during this period, and Edna and Byron were also having a financial struggle. Usually on Saturdays, Edna would go to Salt Lake and work for the day doing housework, and I would take care of the children at home. During the week, I also assumed much of the responsibilities of getting the two oldest children ready for school. Often I was the first one up, would build the fire, start breakfast, and call the children when it was time for them to get up. I seemed to sense that these duties were my responsibilities in order to pay for my board and keep, and as I look back now, I am surprised to know how much responsibility I did carry at such a young age of 12 and 13.

However, from the time I was only nine and ten years of age, I spent considerable time tending my sisters’ children and was often given much responsibility in their care.

In the fall of 1934, Mother, Mary, and Olive also moved to Taylorsville, and we lived in a part of the house with Edna and Byron. It was a large home, and we each had our own living quarters. By this time, Mary had graduated from high school, and she was working in Salt Lake doing housework and contributing all that she could to the maintenance of the family and also working to pay off the lingering funeral bills. There had been no insurance whatsoever to help meet the expenses at the time of Olena’s and Father’s deaths.

Return to Draper

In the spring of 1935, mother had a very impressive dream. As I recall it, father came to her and told her that she was supposed to move back to Draper with her family. Before a week had passed, our former Bishop, Bert Andrus from Draper, had contacted mother wanting to know if she would come back to Draper and take care of his aged father, Brother Antone Andrus. The elderly Brother Andrus was able to be up and around, but he needed someone to prepare his meals and to help care for his needs generally. The arrangement was made that mother would receive $25 a month for taking care of Brother Andrus, and then we would be given our home there consisting of a three room apartment together with a large garden spot and milk from Brother Andrus’ cow. So mother and Olive moved back to Draper in February of that year, and I completed the remainder of my school year, the eighth grade, in Taylorsville, following which I also returned to Draper.

As far as I am concerned, the Lord had a very definite hand in our going back to Draper at that time. Although some of our most difficult years followed immediately thereafter, I can’t help but feel that that was the best place for us to meet those tests because of the many friends we had there in Draper, through whom the Lord worked so frequently to our blessing.

One Sunday just a short time after moving to Draper, Mary was riding to Sunday School with our neighbors, a Brother and Sister Woodruff Sorenson and their family. Just as they came to an intersection on one of the side streets, they had an accident with a car also attempting to cross the intersection from their right. The car in which Mary was riding was overturned, and Mary received very severe injuries to her right hand. The first finger on her right hand was completely gone, and the second finger and the rest of her hand were badly injured. She was immediately rushed to the Holy Cross Hospital in Salt Lake where she underwent surgery to repair the damages and was confined there for a couple of weeks. Her recovery was slow and accompanied with many complications which later resulted in the loss of her second finger also. For months after she got home, she had to be taken to Midvale to the doctor two and three times a week. One of our faithful neighbors, Sister Lenore Bailey Lewis, volunteered this service, and for each appointment without fail, she called for Mary or arranged for one of her sisters-in-law to do so and took her to the doctor, waited for her while she was treated, and then brought her back home again, all without any financial remuneration. However, we did try to repay her by Olive and me tending her children whenever she needed us and by waving her hair once a week as I did for about a half a dozen women in our neighborhood, for which I would receive ten or fifteen cents.

I presume from the strain of Mary’s illness together with the constant worry and anxiety over financial problems during the past five year, Mother had a nervous breakdown. For weeks she was completely bedfast. Because our living conditions at home were crowded and not very conducive to her complete rest, again our good friend, Lenore Lewis, insisted that mother go over to her new home and occupy one of her lovely bedrooms. What we would have done without some of our wonderful neighbors and friends, I do not know. Our neighbors on the other side of us, Lenore’s parents, Brother and Sister Samuel Bailey and their son and his wife, Ken and Rachel Bailey were also most helpful, as were also the Bishopric, the Relief Society Presidency, and many wonderful members of the ward.

At this time, much of the responsibility for maintaining the family fell upon Olive and me, inasmuch as Mary was not yet able to work. However, we all worked together, each trying to do her share. Olive was doing housework for different families there in Draper, and I was trying to help out at home, under mother’s supervision, caring for Brother Andrus, going ahead with the summer’s canning, and tending to our garden.

When fall came, with the assistance of kind friends and the opportunity for employment, it was decided that Mary should try and go to school at Brigham Young University, it now seeming imperative that she receive some specialized training through which she could make her living without being handicapped by her injured hand. In the meantime, Olive and I were in school in the ninth and eleventh grades, and we also accepted opportunities for employment at every spare moment to help meet our financial needs. During this winter, I remember it was always necessary for me to come directly home from school as soon as it was out. I would hurry and have a bite to eat and then dash over to the home of Brother and Sister Less Nelson and put in about four hours’ work washing, ironing, cleaning house, preparing meals, and doing dishes. For this work I would receive 15 cents a night. It was usually after eight before I would get home, and I would then start on my home studies and the personal chores I would have to do at home. Then on Saturdays, I would work the full day, receiving fifty cents for my day’s labors.

The following year, Brother Andrus passed away, and we moved into another apartment there in Draper, for one month living in the upstairs apartment in the home of Ennis Hendrickson, and then moving into a three-room apartment in the home of Sister Hessie Joos. We also rented a chicken coop and borrowed money to buy 250 laying hens. My nephew, Trent, Edna’s and Byron’s oldest son, lived with us and helped us with the chickens. Mother’s health still was not very good at this time, but with her supervision and Trent and me doing most of the work in caring for the chickens, we were able to get along. The coop was in poor condition and when it stormed, the floor would get wet and it was a most difficult and laborious job to keep it cleaned and in good condition. During this time, Mary was still trying to carry on at BYU, and Olive, who had graduated from high school, was doing housework for some people there in Draper.

The next year, Mary was successful in getting a teaching position for about $62 per month, and every effort was made to get Olive to school at Brigham Young University. We found it necessary to dispose of the chickens, and in 1936, were successful in purchasing a half acre of ground close in Draper and had moved onto it the double-garage home which was on the farm on the highway. Although this was just a small four-room frame home, we were thrilled with it because it would be our own, and we would no longer be paying out rent as we had been doing for the past few years. It was with a great deal of satisfaction that Mary, Mother, and I leveled out our yards, planted a lawn, a few trees, and some flowers. The upkeep of that lawn was my pride and joy. Although our home was very humble, we soon had our yards and surroundings neat and tidy and as fast as possible endeavored to put improvements on the inside.

During this time I continued to carry heavy responsibilities in my school work and church activities, as well as work on the side. In high school, I was very active in drama and speech work and was an officer of the Charlonian Club, the girl’s scholastic club. Although I only took shorthand my last year in high school, I was an alternate on the team representing the school in the state commercial contest. I graduated from the Jordan High School in Sandy, Utah, in May of 1939, and was one of 14 in our class of 250 given the rating of High Honor Scholarship. Out of this group, I was one of four chosen to deliver the commencement addresses. The name of my talk, which I prepared myself, was “Our Social and Religious Institutions.” I also graduated from Seminary and offered the invocation on our Seminary Graduation program. I always enjoyed my school very much, although I always took my studies very seriously.

I didn’t, however, participate in social activities as much as I would like to have done. Sometimes it was because I had to work and could not take time out for them, sometimes I didn’t have enough money, and then I was not one who would be termed a “social light.” All through my schooling, I struggled with an inferiority complex when it came to social activities. When I was about ten years old, I had fallen down on the cement when roller skating and had broken off one of my front teeth. Although Mother took me to a dentist frequently, he would never do anything about that tooth “Until I was through developing.” As a result, I went through high school and my first year of college with a broken front tooth that made me feel very self-conscious. Although I had many friends and did go out some, the social side of my life was not as complete as I would like to have had it.

Following graduation from high school, I worked very diligently toward the goal of going to school at BYU. Mary was still teaching school, and Olive was still going to school at BYU. As a family, we worked together trying to help each attain the thing she needed and what was best for all. Mother’s health had continued to improve and she worked as much as possible at various odd jobs, as well as managing the home. Over the years, I believe Mother has mended thousands of gunny sacks to help maintain us. The feed and poultry plant there in Draper would pay one cent a sack to have their gunny sacks mended. Hour after hour Mother sat at the machine, or by hand, mending sacks.

The fall of 1939, I did enroll at Brigham Young University and was living with Olive, the two of us trying to go to school. Each of us was, of course, carrying part-time work at school to help support us. However, by Christmas time, it seemed almost impossible for me to return again for the winter quarter. I, therefore, dropped out for the remainder of that year and worked to help Olive complete the year so that she could get her Normal Teaching Certificate.

During this time, most of my working experience was doing housework, although for a few months of this year from February to May of 1940, I worked on what was called the NEA (National Education Administration) program and worked in the office of the school principal in Draper, Reid Beck. He was one person who has had a marked influence on my life and whom I shall ever revere. He was our school principal all through our grade and junior high schools. He was a man who was a friend to everyone and whom everyone loved, child and adult alike. He knew the name of every child in his school, and in each child’s heart, Mr. Beck was the best pal he or she had. For many years, he was a member of the stake presidency of our Mt. Jordan Stake, but later he was made the bishop of our Draper First Ward. So at the time I worked for him, I respected him not only as my bishop, but as a dearly beloved principal for many years.

It had also been my privilege to work in their home, doing just regular housework, and I did deem it a privilege because they were such wonderful people. Ever since I had been in the tenth grade, I had always worked for them on Saturdays and often evenings during the week and on special occasions. It seemed that never was I able to keep up with them and their many kindnesses to me. Bishop Beck was a man of very deep spiritual understanding and values. He looked into the souls of each individual, recognized their virtues, their problems, and their possibilities, and then did everything in his power to help and serve them. If any one thing could be attributed to the shortening of his life (he passed away in 1943), I am sure it would have been because he gave so completely of his energies, time, and abilities to serve his fellowmen.

I guess he would be called my first boss in a secretarial capacity. I, of course, had no experience at that time. I could use my shorthand a little and type, but he, in his most encouraging spirit, said I was most helpful to him. I spent all of the following summer working for them in their home. Early that spring, Mrs. Beck had a very serious eye operation and was not able to do a thing around the home. A few months after that, Bishop Beck had an acute appendectomy which almost took his life and he was laid up most of the summer. In addition to this, Mrs. Beck’s elderly mother who lived with them was in poor health. Although they lived just across the street from us, I spent most of my time there, night and day, keeping up the home and actually being nurse for the three of them. I did all of the canning of their fruits and vegetables and did much of the record keeping for Bishop Beck in connection with the tithing and fast offering reports.

I presume that Bishop Beck, more than anyone else during this period, helped to fill the role of counselor and advisor not only in my life, but for our family. He truly was like a father to me in many ways. That fall when I left to go back to school at BYU, they insisted that they give me sufficient money to cover my year’s tuition. I did agree to accept it, but only on a loan basis, which I did repay the following year.

As I look back now, some of the choicest friends I have made have been those people for whom I worked in their homes and with whom I came to share their joys and sorrows as they did with me. Each summer during my high school and college days I spent doing housework. Never do I recall that on one such occasion it was necessary for me to go seek employment. Always the requests for our services, Olive and mine, were more than we could fill. Usually the pay was much more than the monetary amount, more in the form of gifts and extra little tokens of appreciation. Many of the people for whom I worked were young mothers. It was not at all uncommon for Olive and me to be scheduled through the entire summer for working a month or six weeks in homes where the mothers had just had new babies.

On one occasion, I remember working for a young couple, Mr. and Mrs. Murray Lewis, when their first child was born. They were so anxious that everything be just so for that baby and that he receive the very best of care. They had such confidence in me that when the mother returned from the hospital, I was given the main responsibility for scheduling, bathing, and caring for the baby. The one grandmother also stayed with them for a week, but they insisted that I be the one to care for the baby.

On other occasions, I was left for a month with the entire responsibility of a six month and a two year old child while their parents were on a trip. When I was seventeen, I worked one job where I was given the complete responsibility of keeping up the home for a family of seven while the mother was in the hospital. Another summer I had a working schedule of going to a different home each of the six working days of the week and, in each home, doing the washing, ironing, and often cleaning the house.

I can realize now that much of the work that I did was far too strenuous for a young girl, and I have since found that it claimed its toll in my health in later years. However, I feel that I gained much from these experiences in the associations that I formed, in the work experience I gained, and in the increased appreciations, and I believe, deeper sense of values that resulted.

Teaching in Duchesne

The fall of 1941, I returned to school again at BYU. Following that, my fifth quarter, I went home for the Christmas holidays with every intention of returning to school again for the remainder of the year. However, during the Christmas holidays, I was contacted by Superintendent Bond of the Duchesne School District wanting to know if I would accept a teaching position in the high school at Duchesne. I, of course, was very much unprepared for such an undertaking, not having completed even my sophomore year and having taken only the basic subjects without any opportunity for specialization yet. The day Mr. Bond came to see me, I was over to Beck’s working and so he came over there. Upon doing so, we found that he and Mr. Beck were former school associates. After Mr. Bond visited with me for some little while, Mr. Beck suggested that he take him for a drive around the town to show him our little farming and chicken community. They were gone for better than an hour, and upon their return, Mr. Bond was even more insistent than ever that I accept the job, saying that if I could do all that Mr. Beck said I could, they just had to have me.

After some deliberation, and because of our strained financial condition, I did accept the position and when school started following the holiday break, I was found on the job teaching six different subjects, one each period all day without one free period, and ranging in grades from the seventh to the twelfth. I am sure the statement “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread” was very applicable in my case at this time. I had not had one hour of education or teacher’s training classes, nor had I had any training in the subjects I was teaching since I had taken the same subjects in those grades myself. I was the third teacher those children had that year in that capacity, and they prided themselves in the fact that they had driven out the two previous ones.

I don’t believe in all my schooling I ever studied as hard as I did the following five months to keep ahead of those six classes. The subjects I taught the first year were seventh grade reading and spelling, history, civics, geography, type, and shorthand. Some of the students in my twelfth grade classes were just a year younger than me, being only 20. I was very hesitant about letting anyone know my age because of the effect it would have in a disciplinary way. Although I did have some discipline problems, all concerned said that I had done much better than the two teachers before me who each had years of experience.

Olive was also in Duchesne that first year while I was there, that being her second year teaching in the elementary school. Mother also lived with us in Duchesne that year and was most helpful to me in my tremendous undertaking.

As that school year came to a close, the superintendent approached me again and wanted me to accept a contract for the following year with a substantial increase, my salary being $72 per month. I did accept the contract and that summer went back to summer school at BYU, where I took a very heavy course in an effort to better prepare me for my courses the following year. The second year, my setup was much improved in that I taught only ninth grade civics, eighth grade American History, twelfth grade sociology, and type and shorthand. I thoroughly enjoyed my teaching activities the second year, was much more relaxed, had more confidence, and I am sure, did a much better job.

The third year that I taught there, I had a speech class added to my schedule which I enjoyed very much. Included among our activities and projects we did what was considered to be an impossible job of presenting a three-act play. We did a very interesting little comedy “The Calamity Kids,” and the response from the students as well as the townspeople was most gratifying. When we started out, we had no stage scenery at all, but with the help of the boys in their shop class, we made a completely new set, although some of the paint on it was still wet when the curtain went up on the matinee performance. We also succeeded in getting the pool hall to purchase for us a couch and large chair as permanent properties for the school for stage work. The night of our main performance, our auditorium was filled. We found that we even had a busload of people come 20 miles from one of the neighboring towns to see it. This play, apparently, broke all precedence for plays in that school for many years.

This year climaxed for me a most enjoyable teaching experience. I had grown to greatly love the profession and to love the students with whom I was working. In my experience, I believe there is no more satisfying work than that of teaching, and to see the fruits of your labors in shaping the lives of others is most gratifying.

During that period of time in Duchesne, I made some of what I feel are the dearest friends I may ever have in life. The first year that I was there, I was carrying such a heavy burden with my school work that I was not able to mingle too much with the people of the ward or to hold any position in the ward. The second year, I lived with Caroline and Golden Berrett, and that year I did more in the ward although my school load was still very heavy. I shall always cherish the beautiful association I had while living with the Berrett’s that year. Caroline and Golden were truly just like a brother and sister to me. Caroline was originally a Draper girl, being the daughter of Crozier Kimball, a very dear friend of my father. Because of this, there was a close bond in our association from the very beginning.

During that year together, we shared many joys and sorrows, but it seemed that each experience brought us closer together, especially Caroline and myself. She is a very spiritual girl and did much for me in helping me to increase my faith, develop greater strength through prayer, and learning to recognize things of greater worth in life. Many are the times that our spiritual discussions would last well into the wee hours of the morning, but always they were most profitable. I shall always be indebted to her for the influence she has had on my life, not only then, but in the years to follow.

Caroline had another very dear friend there in Duchesne, a single girl about my age, Faun Oman. Inasmuch as Caroline and I were so close, and she was also very close to Faun, she was constantly trying to bring Faun and me together. However, for some reason, it seemed that we just didn’t click. As acquaintances, we could enjoy each other, but neither of us had an urge to become more closely acquainted and were at a loss to fully understand why Caroline thought so highly of the other.

The next fall, Caroline and Golden moved back to Union, near Salt Lake, and Golden was to teach in the Seminary at Jordan High School in Sandy. That year I lived with Ferrin and Venice Van Wagoner. Apparently, because neither Faun nor I had Caroline to turn to, we began to cultivate more of our friendship together. It wasn’t long until we had discovered a bond and closeness of the same caliber as we had both shared with Caroline. This was a beautiful friendship and was indeed the same source of strength to me that year as my association with Caroline had been the year before. In the years to follow, Faun continued to be a most constant and loyal friend. I have found her to be a person of great spiritual depth, one who was ever willing to lend a helping hand, and as a trustworthy confidant, could not be excelled. She has indeed been a blessing in my life.

As the school year of 1944 drew to a close and contracts for the following year were being considered, I seemed to feel that my work in Duchesne was completed, and I had a most impelling urge to prepare myself to go on a mission. During this last year, Olive had been on a mission, and I had been helping to maintain her there. It was the understanding that when she returned, she would keep me on a mission, and Mary would support Mother, or at least help to maintain her. Ervin was also living with us and paying some board, which helped.

Mission to Canada

At this time, the nation was still in the throes of brutal warfare, and every phase of our lives was influenced by defense regulations and all-out war effort. Missionary activity for the church had been restricted, barring all young men of physical ability to fill missions and requiring that only girls who were needed in secretarial capacities could be called. In order to qualify in this category, the girls had to have six months of actual office experience. This I had not had, so it seemed most imperative that I get a secretarial job for six months as I prepared for a mission. I, therefore, obtained employment at Fort Douglas in Salt Lake City.

During these six months, I was very active in the ward and did everything I could to prepare myself for a mission. I was teaching a Sunday School class of 15 and 16 year olds and was also chairman of the first LDS Girls’ organization in Draper. The program was just beginning to be tried out, and there was not a definite program outlined for us. However, it proved to me a most challenging experience. Gerald Andrus was our bishop, and it was a choice experience for me to work very closely with him in developing this program in our ward. At first we met much opposition and spirit of defeatism to the effect that something like that just could not be worked. However, with the blessings of the Lord, determination, and enthusiasm, my corps of six assistants and I were successful in awakening the ward to the possibilities and value of such a program. The LDS Girls’ work is organized much differently now under the MIA than it was then under the PBO, but we had a thrilling experience pioneering, so to speak, in a new field, and met with great success in our efforts.

My bishop had mentioned to me several times the possibility of my going on a mission, but it seemed that for some reason or another, nothing was done about it. After the six months, I, of course, was eager to be on my way. Finally, he did interview me, and I took time off work to have my physical examination. It was then the latter part of January and the next group went into the mission home on February 4 th. I wanted very much to be with that group. In fact, for some reason, I felt that I just had to be with that group.

As I got on the bus to return to work following my physical examination, an elderly gentleman came and sat beside me. As I looked at him, I thought, I’m sure that is Apostle Merrill. I finally got enough courage to ask him, and he replied, “Yes, I am Elder Merrill.” I repeated my question and said, “But are you Apostle Merrill?” He again said, “Yes, I am Elder Merrill.” Then he explained to me the sacredness of the term “Apostle” and that he preferred to be addressed “Elder.” I told him of my anxiety about going on a mission and my desire to enter the mission home the 4 th of February, and that if I did so, it would be necessary for me to hand in my resignation immediately in order to allow for my two-week notice period. He asked me to get in touch with my bishop immediately and have him send my papers to him at his office the following day and for me to come in for my interview with him.

I followed his instructions and the following Tuesday called his office at his request and was informed that I would enter the mission home just a week from the following Monday, February 4, and that I was called to labor in the Canadian Mission. I was delighted with this assignment and immediately handed in my resignation and started making plans for my farewell and departure. My farewell was held in the Draper First Ward under the direction of Bishop Gerald Andrus.

I felt there was a beautiful spirit throughout the meeting, and the confidence and support manifest by the good people of our ward was most inspiring and gratifying. This farewell service was indeed a source of strength to me throughout my entire mission, for as most missionaries testify, when those discouraging moments come, one is constantly reminded that they are representing the folks back home, that their ward is depending upon them, and that they just cannot fail.

I enjoyed very much the ten-day training period in the mission home in Salt Lake City. The group of outgoing missionaries was very small and consisted mainly of older couples. As I recall, there were only three single girls in the entire group. However, there was a sweet spirit in our various classes, and we were all bubbling over with enthusiasm anticipating the privilege we had ahead of us to spread this glorious gospel message.

I boarded the Union Pacific train on Thursday evening, February 15, 1945, and arrived in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, on Saturday morning, February 17, 1945. I traveled with another lady missionary, Gudgren Hisgen, as far as Chicago and then completed the remainder of my journey alone. I was met at the Union Station in Toronto by President and Sister Octabe W. Ursenbach and driven to the mission home. Just a couple of days before that, the Toronto area had experienced the worst snow storm in forty years. They estimated that 72 inches of new snow had fallen. Apparently, for two days, the city had been completely isolated with no means of transportation whatsoever. When I arrived, the city was just beginning to come “alive” again. Many of the streets were open only for the passage of one car. As we drove from the depot to the mission home, in some areas the snow was piled so high on either side of the road that you could not see the houses. For blocks we followed a horse-drawn bread wagon while it made deliveries through this residential section.

A list of my assignments and the companions with whom I labored, according to the Historical Records of the Canadian Mission, is as follows:

Arrived in the mission field February 17, 1945

February 17, 1945 – assist in mission office

March 5, 1945 – transferred to Peterboro to labor with Dora B. Jensen

June 6, 1945 – transferred to Hamilton to labor with Alice Ackroyd

September 20, 1945 – assigned to mission office with Lois Draney

September 20, 1945 – appointed Relief Society Supervisor

October 29, 1945 – appointed Sunday School Supervisor

October 31, 1945 – Shirley Westover, mission office

November 4 to December 9, 1945 – accompanied President and Sister Ursenbach and Sister Westover on conference tour as Sunday School Supervisor.

March 8 to 20, 1946 – assigned to Toronto with Glenna Foote

May 1, 1946 – assigned to mission office with Catherine

May 23, 1946 – Joyce Phillips, mission office

July 23, 1946 – assigned to Toronto to labor with Beth Earl

August 21, 1946 – Dora B. Jensen, Toronto District

August 31 – Ruth Jeppson, Toronto District

Honorably released September 11, 1946

The following evaluation of my mission by my mission president is also included in the Historical Record of the Canadian Mission:

Knowledge of Gospel: Excellent

Energy: Greater than strength

Speaker: Excellent

Presiding Officer: Good

Personal Influence: Excellent

Discreet: Yes

Writing Ability: Good

A very conscientious and determined young woman. Had a good knowledge of the Gospel and a forceful manner of presenting it. Was especially qualified in tracting ability and gave valuable direction to new missionaries. Had at some time suffered a back injury which hampered her work. However, being a good stenographer, her services were utilized in the office for several months in which she did very effective work. As Sunday School Supervisor made one tour of the mission in connection with conferences.

/S/ OCTAVE W. URSENBACH

Like all missionaries, I am most grateful for the privilege of serving as a missionary, of going out and trying to get others to recognize the great truths of this restored gospel message. Since this was during the war period and few of the young men were able to go on missions, there were only 19 missionaries in the entire mission when I arrived. Ordinarily, there had been up to 175 missionaries in this mission. Of that 19, most of them were lady missionaries, two married couples, and I believe only two or three single elders whose health would not permit them to serve in the military. Because of the uneven number of lady missionaries when I arrived, it was necessary for me to stay in the mission office until another sister was released so that I could be assigned to the field with a companion.

My first companion, Dora B. Jensen with whom I labored in Peterboro, was a widow about 58 years of age from Richfield, Utah. Dora was a very levelheaded person with a choice sense of humor. When I arrived in the field, I was so enthused about missionary work that I felt we would be able to convert all of Canada in no time. It was frustrating to me the first few days of tracting to find people so disinterested, so satisfied with their own religions, and so unwilling to even listen to anything else.

One morning when it was about 20 degrees below zero, we had such disheartening reception. Many people would not even open their storm doors to talk to us; they merely shook their heads and closed the door. It was my turn to take the next door, and I determined that I was going to have a conversation and leave some literature. As the door opened, there, to my amazement, stood one of the largest men I have ever seen. It seemed that he completely filled that doorway as he stood there in his highly official Canadian policeman’s uniform with the tall tasseled hat. I was so overwhelmed that as I opened my mouth to speak, no words would come. Finally, I explained to him who we were and started telling him a little of our message. He cut me off and said in a very stern voice, “Lady, I am not interested.” Very determinedly I replied, “Well, you can at least take this pamphlet. It won’t do you a bit of good!” A gentle smile came across his face. He reached out and took the pamphlet and politely bid us good day. When we got back to the sidewalk, Sister Jensen broke out into almost uncontrollable laughter and repeated to me what I had said. Our tracting was finished for that morning and we returned home for lunch.

In that day, there was very little guidance given in proselyting procedures and techniques. We were pretty much on our own. However, learning from our own experience, we did improve in our approaches and had many inspiring and profitable experiences. We made many friends, but were not able to bring many of them to baptism.

While in Peterboro, we developed a warm companionship with two other lady missionaries, Irene Briggs, now married to Hugh Woodford, and Glenna Foote, now married to Jack Heggie. Both of these girls were from Alberta, Canada. After our missions, Irene came to BYU, and we lived together for a while. She later served with me on the Relief Society General Board and proved to be a very choice friend.

Sister Briggs and I were both transferred from Peterboro at the same time, she being assigned to Kitchener, and I to Hamilton. En route to our new fields of labor, the president gave us permission to travel together to Palmyra, New York. We went by bus and spent a day at Hill Cumorah, the Sacred Grove, and the other points of interest in that area. It was indeed a memorable experience to visit this area that has such significance in our early church history and also to do it in company with Irene, a very spiritual, humble girl and sincere convert to the church.

After laboring in Hamilton for a little more than three months with Alice Ackroyd, I was transferred to the mission office because of my health. I developed real problems with my back, and the president felt that by going to the office where the work would not be so strenuous physically, I might feel better. As new missionaries would come, one of them would often need to stay a short period at the mission home until she could be assigned to a companion. It was my responsibility to help orient them, and in the afternoons or evenings as our office work would permit, to take them out tracting. In this way, I became closely acquainted with a large number of missionaries. When VJ Day, Victory in Japan, was declared on May 8, 1945, while we were in Peterboro, many more missionaries started coming into the mission field.

I appreciated also the privilege of becoming well acquainted with President and Sister Ursenbach and their family while living with them in the mission home. The mission home and office were all under one roof at that time, a large three-story home at 133 Lyndhurst Avenue in Toronto. My back continued to give me considerable trouble until the president seriously considered sending me home. Sister Ursenbach and I made it a matter of fasting and prayer, and both received the strong impression that I should stay there and complete my mission as best I could. I did not want to be released. I had so looked forward to filling a mission and felt that if I would increase my faith and trust in the Lord, I would be able to do so.

I found that there was much that I could do to promote the work through my service in the office. I began to realize that the attitude and spirit we had there at the hub of the mission had its influence throughout the entire mission, and that maybe in my small way, I could help even more there than out in the field. In my service as secretary for the Relief Society and Sunday School Supervisor for the mission, I had contact with many of the branch and district leaders. As I traveled to the mission district conferences with President and Sister Ursenbach and Sister Shirley Westover, now Mrs. Glen H. Cornwall, I had contact with all of the missionaries in the entire mission. I found that through these contacts we could do much to build the morale of the other missionaries and to encourage them, as well as to help to build the members. I learned that when I would fully trust and depend upon the Lord, I was always given the strength to accomplish the things I was assigned to do. Sometimes I would wonder if I was going to be able to do so, but as the time arrived, the blessings would always come.

On one occasion, we were traveling to Kitchener for a district conference. We had left early on Sunday morning to drive there in time for a ten o’clock meeting. I felt miserable. My back and head ached until I felt that I could hardly think straight, let alone organize my thoughts enough to speak. The president always called on me to speak at every district conference and in each missionary meeting. This day I was hoping that he would bypass me, but without previous notice, he called on me to be the first speaker. As I got up and started to the front, I told the Lord I just couldn’t do it without His help. I knew I couldn’t. As I started speaking, I felt almost as though a light was turned on just over my head and penetrated right down through my whole being. My mind was clear, the pain relieved, and I spoke with as much fluency as I believe I have ever done in my life on the subject of genealogy and temple work. It seemed as though that talk set the tone for the entire meeting. At the conclusion, many people came up and told me how much they appreciated that message, and that it was just what they needed. Throughout the entire day, I was free of pain.

During this period, no one could have had a better companion than I did in Sister Westover. At times my back was so bad that I couldn’t carry my small overnight bag in our travels, so Shirley would carry both hers and mine. If the beds were too soft, she would help me pull the mattress on the floor, and uncomplainingly, we would sleep on the floor. She was always most considerate and thoughtful. I realize that I was the source of problems for her also.

She had a beautiful singing voice, so at every conference I would be called on to speak and Sister Westover would be asked to sing. Everyone lauded her for her beautiful voice, and I got very jealous. After a while, I found that she also was having jealous feelings because I always got to speak and she didn’t. She said that all the president would let her do was sing; he didn’t have any confidence in her in speaking. One night after many tears and each confessing our envy of the other, we decided that we would be obedient and each do whatever we were called upon to do to build the Lord’s work. That proved to be quite a lesson to me throughout my life.

Along toward the latter part of my mission and while still laboring in the office, I was assigned to go out in the field in the city of Toronto on a special assignment with Sister Glenna Foote. By this time, we had a large number of missionaries in the field, young men who had returned form the service and some who were able to go on missions instead of going in the service. Those laboring in the city of Toronto had become very discouraged because they didn’t seem to be making progress in their labors. Their district leader discussed this with the president and recommended that missionaries be moved out of Toronto, one of the largest cities in Canada.

One day President Ursenbach called me into his office and explained this to me and told me that he was sending me out in the field there in Toronto for just a 12-day period to labor with Sister Foote. She would be the senior companion, but he was giving me the charge of finding out whether missionaries should be moved out of Toronto. We could tract any place in the city that we wanted to and do anything that we felt impressed to do, but at the end of the period, he wanted me to bring a recommendation to him on this matter.

We had a most inspiring 12 days. There was a beautiful relationship between us as companions, and we prayerfully planned each day together. During most of the time, we spot tracted at various locations throughout the city. We would get on a streetcar and ride until we felt impressed to get off, and as we went down the streets, we would call on just a sprinkling of the homes, as we felt impressed. Throughout this entire period, there were very few homes at which we were not graciously received. We had profitable discussions, left many pamphlets, and loaned more Books of Mormon than had been placed in the entire district that month. Each night as we would retire, our hearts were filled to overflowing as we pondered upon the blessings that had attended us. Sister Foote said that never in her entire mission had she had such an exciting time. Our recommendation to the president, of course, was that missionaries not be moved out of Toronto. There is at the present time, a thriving stake in the city of Toronto having been organized about 1963.

After another four months in the mission office, I was assigned to labor the last six weeks of my mission in the field in Toronto. It is difficult to record all of the valuable experiences one has in the mission field – the tests, the heartaches, the tears, the joys, the times when you feel almost as though you are talking directly with the Lord and that He is indeed watching over you and is mindful of your every need, the added faith and testimony that you develop through spending your full time in His service, the great joy that comes when you see others have the courage to accept the truth and the way their whole souls blossom as they become involved in church activity, and also the personal development that you witness in your fellow missionaries as they come into the field so frightened, inexperienced, and weak, and then almost over night, become pillars of strength and devoted, enthusiastic missionaries. With all the thousands of other missionaries, I echo the statement, “I am grateful for the privilege of serving as a missionary.”

Working for Elder Benson

On my return from my mission, I came home by way of Alberta, Canada, where I visited with some of my missionary companions and arrived home about September 17, 1946. I wanted very much to go back to Brigham Young University to school, but had no money to do so and felt also that maybe I should stay home with mother. She was living in Draper at the time and was working part-time in the Presiding Bishop’s Office where she sorted tithing receipts. She suggested that I see if I could get a job working for one of the general authorities.

Elder Marion G. Romney needed a secretary at the time, and I made an appointment to be interviewed by him. I was frightened and did not feel good about the possibility of working for him. Just as I got off the bus to go to his office for my appointment, a big gust of wind came up and blew a cinder into my eye. It irritated so badly, I could hardly see. As I sat down to visit with him, my eye was giving me so much distress that I could not take the trial dictation. He visited with me about my mission, my future desires, and our home conditions, and then counseled me that he felt it would be best for me to return to school. He said I should not worry about staying home with mother.

Since I had no money to go back to school, I still needed employment. With my previous experience with Civil Service when working at Fort Douglas just before going on my mission, I was able to get a job immediately at the Arms Plant on 21 st South and Redwood Road, which paid very well at the time. In three months, I was able to earn enough to get caught up on our needs following my mission and to get back into school at BYU the following January. I obtained part-time work in the Registrar’s Office and was able to get living accommodations in the Weona House, a home owned by the university that provided living facilities for eight girls. Olive was already living with this group while teaching in Provo, and Shirley Westover returned from her mission in time to go back to BYU that quarter also and was my roommate.

I was very happily situated and enjoying my school, work, the associations in our home, and being active in the University Ward. I was also having a number of social opportunities. That April 2, 1947, Olive was married to Vernon C. Nielsen. At the end of the term, Shirley got married, and Irene Briggs, who was also working in the Registrar’s Office part-time, came to live with me. In the summer, I worked full-time there and earned enough to enroll again the fall term at the last of September.

Just before October’s general conference, I received a telephone call from Elder Ezra Taft Benson of the Council of the Twelve explaining that he was in need of a secretary. He said he had just returned from a tour of the Canadian Mission where President Ursenbach had given me a very high recommendation, and he wondered if I would be interested in coming into his office for an interview. It was agreed that I would do so on the Monday following general conference. I was very happy in my setup at BYU and did not really want to make a change, but felt that I could not say no without finding out from the Lord what He would have me do.

I, therefore, went to his office on Monday morning in a spirit of fasting and prayer. When I arrived, Sister Benson was sitting in the outer office. Years later I learned that her interview with me, which was definitely prearranged, and her appraisal of me was a significant determining factor in my going to work for Elder Benson. She made herself acquainted with me and then started visiting with me. We talked about their tour of my mission and various things in general. Then Brother Benson came out and invited her to come into his office. After a brief period there, she left, and he announced that he was ready to see me. He visited with me and then gave me some trial dictation. I got along beautifully with the dictation and with everything that he asked me to do and really felt very peaceful about it all. Following another short visit with him, he said that he would think about the matter further and let me know what he decided.

With a very peaceful feeling, I left the office and caught my bus back to Provo. All the way, I thought, I have been obedient and he probably doesn’t want me to work for him, so I can just continue on at school. The next morning at work, however, a call came through from Elder Benson for the Registrar, Brother John E. Hayes. I immediately knew that Brother Benson had not dropped the idea of my working for him, and I began to worry about it. The more I thought about it, the more upset I got. I didn’t want to go work for him, I was happy where I was, I was frightened and felt inadequate.

I went over to Olive’s after work (she and Vernon lived in campus housing) so that I wouldn’t have to go home, as I was afraid there would be a call from Brother Benson, and I was not ready to receive it. I stayed at Olive’s for two or three hours, ironing and crying. Finally, I went home. As I walked in the house, the girls said, “ Salt Lake operator such and such is calling.” I still was not ready to receive that call.

In the privacy of my bedroom, I poured my heart out to the Lord and told him that I didn’t want to go work for Brother Benson and that I was afraid and felt inadequate and was happy where I was and didn’t want to go to work in the church offices and be an old maid. I told Him, however, that I did want to do His will, and I prayed for wisdom as to what I should do.

In the midst of my tears, a beautiful peace came into my heart, and it was almost as though someone was standing by my side answering every question that came into my mind. As distinctly as could be, the thoughts came, Why are you fearing? Didn’t I bless you when you had your trial dictation? I knew that I had been blessed at that time. The answers continued, As to finding your mate in life, it doesn’t matter how many boyfriends you have. The only thing that matters is that you find the right one. Maybe that one is in Salt Lake City. I was silent. I wondered why I had so many doubts. I asked the Lord to forgive me and promised Him that if that was what He wanted me to do, I would go and do my best. I had a beautiful burning throughout my whole system that that was the Lord’s will.

As I asked for Salt Lake operator such and such, Brother Benson soon came on the line. He said, “How soon can you come and start working for me?” I replied, “Any time you would like.” He said, “Let’s make it November 1.” I agreed. That gave me three weeks to wind up my activities at BYU and get myself located in Salt Lake. For the next two weeks, I worked intensely in a shorthand class and at work trying to increase my shorthand and typing skills. My speed was not very great in either, but on November 1, 1947, I reported for work in his office, Room 212, of the Church Office Building, 47 East South Temple, Salt Lake City, Utah.

Before coming to the Council of the Twelve, Brother Benson had been used to the best secretaries money could buy in Washington, D.C., and I really was not that qualified. Before starting work, I was given a blessing by the priesthood that if I would trust in the Lord, he would increase my abilities. When taking my dictation, if I would lose myself in the Lord and carefully listen to every word, that even though I may not get it written down or I may write the wrong form, if I would truly trust, when I went to transcribe my notes, the accurate wording would come to my mind. This I soon found to be true. When I feared, I made blundering errors, but when I trusted, I was indeed blessed. Brother Benson was patient, but expected much both by way of quality and quantity of work, so my work was indeed a challenge to me.

As time passed, my abilities increased and I became very satisfied and happy in my work for Brother Benson and in my associations in the church offices. As various changes were made, I at times worked for others of the Brethren also, including Elder Joseph F. Merrill, Elder Albert E. Bowen, and Elder Spencer W. Kimball. I found it a choice opportunity to have this close association with general authorities, to come to know of their human qualities, and to see how fully and constantly the Lord blesses and magnified them in their sacred callings.

In November of 1952, Dwight D. Eisenhower was elected as President of the United States, and he designated Elder Benson as his Secretary of Agriculture in his Cabinet. We were immediately deluged with preparations for this new and important position. Letters and telephone calls poured into our office by the hundreds, and early in January, he moved to Washington, D.C., with his family. I did not go back to Washington with him at that time. I did not want to go that far away from home and family, to be there alone, and to be considered a career girl. So I stayed in Salt Lake and completed his work there, which took several months to handle all of the correspondence that kept coming, and to get his journals and scrapbooks up to date.

Call to Young Women’s MIA General Board

On March 11, 1953, I was called by the First Presidency to serve on the Young Women’s Mutual Improvement Association General Board. The General Presidency at that time included Bertha S. Reeder, President, with Emily H. Bennett and LaRue C. Longden as counselors. I was assigned to work on the Beehive Committee with Hazel Snow as chairman. When Brother Benson came home for April conference, he set me apart for that position. I was not permitted to take my blessing down as he gave it to me because of church policy, but immediately upon finishing it, he told me it would be permissible for me to record for my own use as much as I could recall of it. I was amazed at how completely the thoughts returned to me. That blessing is as follows:

Easter Sunday, April 5, 1953

Sister Hulda Parker, according to the pattern set down in the church, I, as a servant of the Lord and your fellow worker in Christ, do lay my hands upon your head and set you apart as a member of the General Board of the Young Women’s Mutual Improvement Association.

I bless you that you may be magnified in the eyes of your co-workers and as you travel among the leaders throughout the wards, stakes, and regions of the church. I bless you that from this hour forward, you will have greater confidence in yourself, and that you will not fear because of your sense of inadequacy. I bless you that your talents and your capacities may be increased and that you will have the ability to accomplish the things that you are assigned to do.

I bless you that among your regular friends, members of your family, and loved ones, you shall be as an example and they shall seek you for your counsel and advice.

I bless you that as you go forward in your assignments, the blessings of the Lord shall go before you and open up the way before you and every obstacle shall be removed.

I bless you that you shall receive great joy from your service and it shall be a source of much happiness in your life. I bless you that your life shall be filled with joy even more than you anticipate and every joy you have been seeking in life shall be realized.

I bless you with health and strength of mind and body to carry forward in your calling, and I bless you with wisdom in caring for your body, even your physical body, that you may be able to enjoy the health you will be in need of.

I bless you with the gift of wisdom and judgment, even the gift of discernment, that you may be able to see into the depth of the souls of the leaders whom you contact throughout the church and be able to give unto them the assistance of which they are in need.

I bless you that you will always have in your heart a desire to uphold and sustain those in authority over you and be inclined to follow their counsel and advice.

I bless you that your co-workers will learn to love you and to have confidence in you.

The Lord is pleased with your past faithfulness and the righteous life that you have lived. You are a favored daughter of our Father in Heaven.

I seal these blessings upon you in the authority of the holy priesthood and bless you that through your faithfulness, you shall receive salvation and exaltation in the highest kingdom of our Father in Heaven, and I seal these blessings upon you through your faithfulness in Christ’s kingdom, even so, Amen.

Ezra Taft Benson

This was an extremely challenging calling for me. It caused me a great deal of anxiety, but I worked hard and experienced much joy and development through my service. Going through the throes of a June conference was a particularly choice experience, although very strenuous and humbling. I grew through my service and through the opportunities provided for travel to institutes and conventions.

The latter part of September, on a Friday evening, I attended an MIA institute for the Ogden area. All of a sudden, I felt as though I did not belong; I felt strained with the board members. I came home very depressed and lonely, although I actually had an outstanding Beehive Department. Mother was not home that weekend, and I was there alone in our old brick home in Draper.

As I retired for bed, I poured my heart out to the Lord and told Him that I did not ask to serve on the YWMIA Board and could not understand why I had the empty feeling that I did. I went to bed with this anxiety in my heart but was so weary that I was soon sound asleep.

Suddenly, I was awakened and felt as though there was someone standing by my bed, yet through the moonlight, I could tell that this was not so. Then there flooded into my mind the thoughts as though someone were speaking to me, Don’t worry about your work on the General Board. You are going to go away for about a year, and when you come back, everything will be all right. I was so startled, I sat straight up in bed and said out loud, “I am not going any place. Where am I going?”

The impressions were so pronounced that I could not go to sleep for hours. I lay there pondering them in my heart and trying to understand their meaning. The next day, Saturday, I decided to fast about it to understand what it all meant, and on Sunday was our regular fast day. I was still home alone, and as I was coming up the walk toward the house, I heard the phone ringing. I hurried to answer it, and the operator said, “This is Washington, D.C., calling. Ezra Taft Benson would like to talk with Hulda Parker.” As I said, “This is she speaking,” there flashed back to my mind my experience of Friday night and the words, “You are going away for about a year.”

As soon as Brother Benson came on the phone, he said, “Hulda, I need your help back here. Would you consider coming?” I told him I didn’t know, and that I would have to think about it and check with the Brethren at the office. I was then working for Elder Mark E. Petersen, Elder Delbert L. Stapley, and Elder Adam S. Bennion. He said he would be out for the meeting with the Brethren on Thursday prior to the general conference and would appreciate knowing at that time.

When I explained this request to the Brethren at the office, I received a mixture of responses. Some thought it would be a choice opportunity, and that I should accept. Another told me it would be the mistake of my life to go back, and that I belonged here with my work in the church offices and on the General Board. One very quietly said, “Hulda, you are the one who has the right to inspiration in making this decision. You must be guided by your own feelings and impressions.” I was indeed in a quandary, and when Brother Benson talked to me on Thursday morning, I could only tell him of my mixed feelings.

He went on to his meeting in the temple with the Brethren. After, he explained to me that he had discussed the entire matter with President David O. McKay, who said that I was to go back to Washington and work for Brother Benson, and I would be given a leave of absence from the General Board.

Washington , D.C.

I made preparations to leave, as I recall, on about November 1, 1953. I reported for work in the United States Department of Agriculture, located on Constitution Avenue, to serve as personal secretary for Ezra Taft Benson, the Secretary of Agriculture.

This was entirely new and different from the serene and peaceful work setting in the church offices. I had no background whatsoever with the procedures and protocol of government service, with politics, with news media, with pressure groups, and with people “in the cold and dreary world” in general. It was, however, a most profitable and interesting experience.

I shared the office with a brilliant Catholic girl, well informed on Washington and government work, who handled The Secretary’s telephone calls and appointments primarily. I assisted in both of these areas as needed and took his personal dictation, especially anything related to church work, personal correspondence of family, government, and his personal daily journal. I was also in charge of his scrapbooks containing all of the coverage given by any of the news media throughout the nation relative to him and agricultural policies. There was on each of our desks a telephone with four direct lines to The Secretary, one separate white telephone which was a direct line to the White House, and intercommunication connections to 14 top policy offices in the Department of Agriculture.

It was most interesting to sit in on a press conference, to attend an agricultural hearing on The Hill with either the Senate or House Committees, and to monitor telephone conversations with legislators, White House staff, and even The President. Working that closely at the hub of the national government indeed increases one’s insight into the functioning of government, the influences of pressure groups, the cunningness of politics, and also the great need for integrity in government offices.

I had sincere admiration for the manner in which Elder Benson met the demands of this extremely difficult position and how he failed to be discouraged in spite of all the opposition and criticism. It was interesting also to note the manner in which he would be magnified through the power of the priesthood. Even men who disagreed with him in politics or agricultural policy, personally respected him and tempered their manner because of his calm presence and dignity.

I enjoyed very much my church associations and activities while in Washington. I was a member of the Washington Ward located on 16 th Street and Columbia Avenue, which was made up largely of young men going to medical and law schools and young women working in government offices.

Years later, I attended the funeral services in the Tabernacle for President Ezra Taft Benson who passed away at the age of 94. He died in the Benson apartment on Memorial Day, Monday, May 30, 1994, of congestive heart failure. The family had known for several days that his passing was near at hand. Although he has been very limited healthwise for ht past couple of years, when the time comes, one is still not quite ready for it. His son, Mark Benson, was our Stake President and frequently visited our ward. Mark’s wife, Lela, was usually with him and had kept me somewhat informed on the status of his father’s health. She and Mark had been in daily contact with him. All of the family had been very attentive to him as their circumstances would permit, some of them living in distant locations.

Following the beautiful funeral service in the Tabernacle, some of the Brethren and the family drove to Franklin, Idaho, for the interment which was also broadcast on both television and radio. I didn’t realize until then how tender my feelings were toward him and his family. I wept through much of the service in the Tabernacle as it brought back so many memories of working with him as his secretary both here in Salt Lake and in Washington, D.C.

Those almost ten years with the Bensons was a very significant and productive period of my life. Through it all, I was very close to the entire family, some very impressionable years for the children and certainly a warm, growing relationship with Brother and Sister Benson. When they returned again to Salt Lake at the conclusion of his term in Washington, D.C., he contacted me on three different occasions wanting me to come back and work for him in the Council of Twelve office. It, however, did not seem wise for me to leave Relief Society to do so.

I shall always value the association I had with them and particularly the privilege of working for Brother Benson. I learned so much from him. He was very patient with me, and I believe I came to understand him, his working needs, and his way, so that I was helpful to him and could relieve some of his stress and pressures. I learned much from Sister Benson also, which helped me in time to be a better wife to Dil.

Brother Benson was an extremely dynamic individual. The minute he entered the office, it was as though bells were ringing and things immediately started happening. The entire department knew when he arrived. I found myself doing things that I didn’t realize I had the ability to do, even preparing his talk about his mother and family for him to give on a video program ten minutes after he returned to the office from a ten-day trip. Even he was amazed as he read it, and he said, “Hulda, how did you know all of this?” It seemed as though the Lord was blessing me to do things that Brother Benson himself did not have time to do.

It seemed as though he never accepted defeat. There was always an answer, another source to get information, or way to move forward on a project. This was the way he operated and the reason he succeeded so completely.

As Barbara Benson Walker said Thursday night at the special viewing for the Brethren and their families, “This brings the close of an entire era.” I agreed. I felt like I lost a very close member of my own family.

I still marvel at how the Lord guides our courses in life to give us the opportunities and experiences we are meant to have. I guess having worked for a prophet and being married to a choice general authority help to compensate for my not being able to have children of my own. I do have choice grandchildren who I do feel are my own. In the days and eternities to come, other things will be made up to me.

Call to Relief Society General Board

In April of 1955, I returned to Salt Lake and continued my work in the church offices, working first in the Council of the Twelve office and then returning again as secretary to Elder Mark E. Petersen. I also returned to my service on the Beehive Committee of the YWMIA General Board and later was assigned to the Special Interest Committee. I had been gone just a year and a half, slightly more than the impression I had received just two nights before Brother Benson called asking me to go to Washington.

On January 2, 1957, I was called by the First Presidency to serve as the Relief Society General Secretary-Treasurer and also as a member of the Relief Society General Board, which necessitated my release at that time from the YWMIA General Board. I served in the Relief Society under Belle S. Spafford as the General President with Marianne C. Sharp as first counselor and Helen W. Anderson as second counselor, who was appointed at the same time I was. After about a year and a half, she was called with her husband to preside over the New Zealand South Mission and Louise W. Madsen was called to succeed her. I held this position for nearly 11 years, resigning on November 15, 1967, in order to more fully devote my time and energies to my responsibilities as a wife.

My service with the Relief Society was indeed a rewarding experience, although extremely challenging. In this capacity, I had very close working association with Sister Spafford and her counselors, which alone was a choice opportunity. They were three very dedicated and able leaders. Not only was Sister Spafford giving outstanding leadership to the sisters of the church, but she was also wielding great influence to non-LDS women nationally and internationally. During the time I served with her, she was also affiliated in leadership positions with the National and International Councils of Women, with the American Mother’s Committee, with the National Association of Practical Nurse Education and Services, and with the White House Conference on Aging. This, of course, also brought those of us who were closely associated with her into contact, to a certain extent, with these organizations. One could readily see that Sister Spafford was indeed one of the outstanding women leaders in the world.

My responsibilities as Secretary-Treasurer included the handling of much correspondence and telephone and personal contact with stake and mission Relief Society leaders throughout the church. I took minutes for all of the General Board meetings, some of them all-day meetings, which minutes were meticulously prepared, edited, indexed, and bound for permanent storage in the large walk-in records vault adjoining my office. This vault contained all of the minutes of the General Officers of Relief Society since its founding in 1842, by the Prophet Joseph Smith.

I also spent a great deal of time in the Executive Officers meetings with the General Presidency, three days a week, carrying on the business of all of the areas assigned to the General Presidency. At that time, it included, in addition to the regular R.S. program of the church worldwide, special programs such as garment distribution, the making of temple burial clothing and baptismal clothing, operating the Mormon Handicraft shop, the Relief Society magazine, the Social Services Department, and matters related to the Indian Student Placement Program.

I devoted long hours to my work at the office and almost every evening brought work home that needed to be done. I am confident that I could not have managed my work nearly as well as I did had I not had the experience I gained in working for several of the Brethren and also my work with Brother Benson both in Salt Lake and in Washington, D.C. My office was located on the second floor of the beautiful new Relief Society Building, the center office on the south, which was beautifully decorated and appointed. I had the services of as many as three or four secretaries at a time to assist me.

My responsibilities also included a great deal of travel worldwide attending conferences, conventions, and institutes instructing Relief Society leaders in the stakes and missions throughout the church. I was particularly responsible at the Relief Society General Conferences for the instructions to Relief Society secretary-treasurers throughout the church and for the preparation of all of their record keeping tools and instructions regarding them.

To date, my travels on both the YWMIA and Relief Society General Boards and my further travel with my husband on special assignments have taken me to most of the United States, Canada, Alaska, Mexico, Guatemala, most of South America, all of the Islands of the Pacific, Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, Tokyo, England, Ireland, Scotland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Germany, far into East Germany, Holland, Belgium, France, Switzerland, and Austria. Until I was called on my mission to Canada, I had never been out of the state of Utah.

All of my travel has been on church assignments and has truly been a choice privilege and opportunity. I have come to realize that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is indeed the power that will unite the world, that when people have a testimony burning in their hearts, there are no barriers. They truly feel like brothers and sisters – children of a loving Heavenly Father. I also found that the language of the Holy Spirit penetrates far beyond color, race, or language differences. It truly causes us to love all of our fellow men.

I am sincerely grateful for all of the opportunities I have had for service in the church regardless of what the positions have been. Since resigning from the Relief Society General Board, I have been delighted with my calling in the Ensign Fourth Ward as a visiting teacher and an in-service leader for our ward Relief Society.

Courtship and Marriage

I was working in the Relief Society Office preparing to go into a presidency meeting when I received a telephone call from Elder S. Dilworth Young. He said, “Sister Parker, will you please come over to my office? I have a matter I need to discuss with you.” I replied that I was just ready to go into a meeting with the presidency, Sister Spafford and her counselors, and asked if I could come over later? He said, “No, I would like you to come now.” I hesitated and explained that I would need to go let them know first.

I went in the presidency meeting room where Sister Spafford and her counselors were and told them of the request from Elder Young. They were interested in what he wished to discuss with me. Elder Young was the general authority in charge of the Spanish translations, and Sister Sharp was the person from Relief Society who discussed with him matters related to the translation of our Relief Society lessons. We all, therefore, wondered why he wanted to talk with me instead of Sister Sharp. I told them I had no idea. Sister Spafford said, “Well, you had better go.”

I left and was walking south on Main Street past Hotel Utah, and just as I turned east on South Temple, I passed Elder McConkie and two or three other Seventies, all headed to the temple, I believe. As I started walking east, I met Elder Young. I said, “I thought I was supposed to meet you in your office?” He said, “I will walk back to Relief Society with you.”

Then he started talking to me about this “strange” man that he knew who was thinking in terms of getting married. I was “lost.” Then he finally explained that he was that man, and he was interested in marrying me. I was speechless. We both looked up and there was President Marion G. Romney approaching us. We were at that point in front of the Relief Society Building. Elder Romney came and took hold of Dil’s arm and started walking in the other direction with him. I stood there for a moment and then started up the steps into the Relief Society Building.

I was so shocked and frustrated, I didn’t know what to do. I felt I couldn’t go back up into the presidency meeting. So I went into the building and instead of going back up into the presidency meeting room, I went into one of the small conference rooms on the north. I went in, locked the door, knelt down on my knees by one of the chairs, and started praying and crying. I was at a total loss to understand what was happening. I didn’t want to be disrespectful to a general authority, but I wasn’t sure I understood what he was really saying. I had not had a close association with him. I had known him only as a general authority whom I greeted when passing or being on the same elevator.

That afternoon, his secretary came over with a letter for me to be delivered to me personally. At this point I cannot remember exactly what it said. I believe it was in poetry. I believe he was telling me that he would call me at home, which he did. I also kept wondering what Elder Romney may have said to him as they walked on down the sidewalk. It caused me to remember my associations with Elder Romney on a conference assignment in Alaska.

At that time, auxiliary general board members were attending stake conferences with general authorities. I remembered my visit to Alaska with the Primary representative and also Elder Romney. I greatly admired him as a general authority, but felt shy being around him. I didn’t want to have to ride to Anchorage on the same plane he did and have that close association with him in our travels. So I arranged to go a day early.

In my Saturday afternoon meeting, I was shocked when I looked up and saw him walk into my session. I shied away from him at every meeting. In the Sunday morning meeting, he came up and greeted us board members, and he said to me, “Sister Parker, you wouldn’t be bad looking if you would just smile.” I, of course, was afraid of him. After the session, he came up and was very generous in his comments about my talk.

In the afternoon, we had to catch a plane and fly over to Fairbanks to meet with those members. The Primary sister, for some reason, didn’t get to the airport in time, so she missed the flight. Elder Romney came and sat by me and we had an absolutely delightful association en route. He wanted me to critique his talk and wanted to know if I thought he was too factitious. The association caused me to feel very much at ease with him in our meetings in Fairbanks and also en route back home, as the Primary representative didn’t ever get to Fairbanks.

With this background, I wondered what the discussion was between Dil and Elder Romney.

When Dil finally did call me at home, he, of course, filled in a lot of the gaps of understanding that were going through my mind. He had attended a stake conference in Texas where my niece, Melba Parker Larsen, lived. Her husband, Birch, was the stake president, and of course, Dil had stayed in their home. Apparently, in the course of their conversations when he was talking about looking for a wife, Melba had said something to the effect that her aunt, Hulda Parker, was quite a choice person. Had he considered her? He, of course, was aware of me. That suggestion may have caused him to come to our Relief Society General Conference where I was on the stand and participating. This may have caused him to notice me more carefully. Nevertheless, he made the contact with me.

The Oakland Temple dedication was coming up, and he was planning to attend and to take Leonore, his daughter, with him. The Relief Society presidency had invitations from the First Presidency to attend as well. However, Sister Sharp was unable to go, so her reservation was passed on to me to accompany President Spafford and Sister Louise Madsen, a counselor.

While in the temple, as Dil happened to pass me, he shook my hand, passing me a note telling me that he had told Leonore about me, and she thought it was great. Sister Spafford’s son, Earl, was a missionary of Dil’s, and so Dil invited him and his wife and Sister Spafford to breakfast the next morning. Dil assumed she would bring Louise and me with her. Sister Spafford and Louise went, but they did not invite me to join them. Thus, I was left alone in the motel.

In all this frustration, I decided to go over to my sister Maurine’s in Oakland the next day, and then up to my brother Alton’s in Ukiah instead of going home. I stayed there for a couple of days and then went home on Sunday night. When I arrived, there was a call from Dil wanting to come right over and see me. I was living with my niece, Margaret Parker, the only one of my family who knew what was going on between Dil and me.

From then on, more of my family and friends became informed. No definite plans or announcements were made. Finally, Dil wanted me to come up to his home and see if I thought I could live in it. He wanted me to bring a couple of my friends and he would prepare dinner for us. I got two of my dear friends, Caroline and Golden, to join us. We had a lovely dinner. Dil was a good cook. Then while he and Golden sat in front of the fireplace, he wanted me to inspect the house, everything – cupboards, closets, etc. – to see if I would like to live there.

Caroline and I were very close friends. I shared everything with her. I needed to talk to someone. While downstairs, we had a special prayer, and I was able to get a confirmation that I should marry Dil. From then on, I was able to consider plans and to share with my family and close friends. Dil and I had spent many hours in telephone conversations and were now being seen together in public.

Finally, I was getting so weary trying to keep up with my office work, seeing Dil, and spending many hours each night with him on the phone, in addition to Christmas activities. We, therefore, went ahead with marriage plans for January 4, 1965, in the Salt Lake Temple. We did not have a wedding reception, just a marriage performed by Elder Harold B. Lee, with a whole sea of family and friends in the celestial room of the temple. That evening, Dil and I alone had a lovely dinner in a special restaurant in Kaysville, and then I moved into our home at 575 “J” Street in Salt Lake City, Utah.

For My Wife

How does one count

The lonely hours

When she’s away?

How does one measure happiness

When one receives her welcome home

At close of day?

And when the crisis comes

And he, with bared head

And clenched teeth

Faces the world alone

With fear,

She stands one step behind

And whispers “Courage”

In his ear.

Without her he is one alone

Amidst the throng,

With her he is as though

Ten thousand strong.

S. Dilworth Young

*Tribute to Hulda read by Dil at the California-Utah Women’s luncheon on October 25, 1980, when she was given the Utah Heritage Award.

Assignment to Los Angeles Temple Visitors Center

On Friday, October 13, 1978, while touring the Colorado Mission and just before leaving Pueblo, Colorado, Dil received a telephone call from President Ezra Taft Benson, President of the Quorum of Twelve, calling from his office in Salt Lake, stating that the Brethren were calling the two of us to go to the Los Angeles Temple Visitors Center, Dil to be the director and me to assist. Dil assured him of our willingness to accept this call. President Benson said the length of the call is usually eighteen months but that our call would be of an indefinite length depending on Dil’s health. The call would be effective February 20, 1979 . On Sunday, October 15, we returned to Salt Lake and immediately our thoughts were turned to the move we had ahead of us.

In talking with the Brethren, Dil learned that two other Brethren assigned to visitors centers had been made emeritus. We, therefore, assumed that that was in the offing for Dil also. He also learned that presently such visitors centers are responsible to the respective mission presidents. In Los Angeles , that would be Brother Briton McConkie, whom we knew very well, as he and Beth, his wife, belonged to our McConkie study group. Dil also learned that the Los Angeles Center was one of the largest in the church, and that it would be necessary for us to locate our own housing and arrange it at our own cost.

The Los Angeles Temple is one of the largest in the church and is located very impressively on Santa Monica Boulevard . There is a large church complex there with the Visitors Center on the entrance in back of and to the side of the temple. Also in this complex is a family history center on the lower level, and in the back, the mission office and home and a temple clothing outlet. Then, further, was a Public Communication Office and an apartment complex with 100 small apartments for missionaries and temple workers. Arrangements were made to combine two of these small apartments for our use. It was located across a small street from the mission home. Thus, we were very comfortably located in this fully secured church complex. It was very much like our own little community of church workers and offices. Also further on through was the Westwood Ward Chapel accommodating two wards.

The facilities were so situated that people coming to the temple came by the Visitors Center , which aided the function of the Center. Arrangements were also such that we could walk back and forth from our apartment to the Center or temple.

When we arrived in February, we found the Center in good condition with the missionaries in the Center, but they were having very few tours with only one or two non-members on a tour. In order to have more people come and bring their non-member friends, we started having programs on the front steps of the Center using special talent available in the Los Angeles area. The average attendance for our special programs inside in the little theater also increased, which also resulted in increased tours with non-members.

We then insisted that our programs be not just entertainment, but that they be gospel oriented. We also made recordings that were broadcast at a later time by KBIG, the church-owned station, and we became successful in having some programs featuring minority-language people in the area.

In time, we were able to install the Women’s Monument garden with the thirteen statues and recorded poetry honoring women, as described by Dil, and with large, beautiful programs. Other special features were programs for the minority language groups, including the Spanish, Polynesian, Korean, Vietnamese, Japanese, Chinese, and Blacks. Also, a Christmas pageant was held for five nights before Christmas concerning the birth of Christ the Lord, with local church choirs singing carols. This encouraged breakthrough with newspaper and television coverage. Dil and I also spent a great deal of time speaking at firesides and Sacrament meetings and increased our mailing lists, all of which brought about increased interest in the message of the Center.

Illness and Passing of Dil

In the early part of 1981, while on our mission at the Visitors Center in Los Angeles, Dil seemed to be slowing down a bit more than his usual energy allowed. On New Year’s Day, we stayed home while the missionaries went to the Rose Bowl Parade.

On March 1, he was having more serious chest pains. On March 3, he received a call from Elder Carlos Asay of the missionary department inquiring as to his health and also mine, wondering if we wanted to look toward coming home. Dil suggested that we discuss it with him when we were home for general conference.

March 17, President Briton McConkie, mission president, gave Dil a blessing. He specifically promised him that he would be able to finish his mission and return home in safety.

The next day, March 18, he went to see Dr. Stewart Miller, a cardiologist recommended to us by Dr. Ronald McBride, our general doctor there. Dr. Miller told him he had water on the lungs, that he actually had congestive heart failure. He put him on diazide, a mild diuretic. However, in order for him to sleep that night, it was necessary for him to sit up in his sofa chair. He was still having problems the next day, so the doctor put him on a stronger diuretic, but he gave him no potassium replacement.

By March 23, he was weak and having stomach pains. We had on staff at the Center a missionary who was a doctor from Salt Lake, Dr. Ross Tucker. Elder Tucker checked with him carefully two or three times a day. The next day, March 24, Dil was having trouble eating and more severe stomach pains. I called Dr. Miller, and he said to give him more diuretic, but still no potassium. By 11 p.m., he was vomiting. Then he settled down and Dr. Tucker said if he could rest the night, then the next morning we would take him to the hospital. However, at 2:30 a.m., the pain became so severe that Dr. McBride had us admit him to the hospital. He was dehydrated and depleted on potassium. He stayed there for three days. We took him home thinking we could go on to Salt Lake for general conference.

It was necessary, however, for us to keep canceling our plane reservations until Thursday, April 2, when we definitely decided to go, thinking that probably his doctor in Salt Lake, Dr. Burtis Evans, may be able to help him.

He was able to attend only part of the regional representative meeting on Friday and part of the opening session of conference on Saturday. The remainder of the conference, he took in on television at home, which seemed to be rejuvenating to him.

On Monday at 9 a.m., he saw Dr. Evans who ran many tests on Dil, but we did not get the results until Wednesday. On Monday we also met with Brother Asay who said that the Brethren were concerned about Dil and wondered if he should not plan to be released immediately. Dil explained about our forthcoming Woman’s program scheduled there for June 19 and 20. He felt that if Dr. Evans could help him, and we could get back down there, he could hold out until the end of June. On Wednesday, we went to see Dr. Evans again and learned that the sodium was still low, so he gave more diuretic and potassium.

At that time, we also learned that George Cannon Young, a very close cousin, had just passed away, and that his funeral would be held the following Monday. The family wanted very much to have Dil speak at that funeral. So he decided to do that and return to Los Angeles on Monday evening, April 13. On Monday, Dil was still very pale and weak and so unsteady he could hardly walk. I was right there on the stand with him and decided the only thing I could do was place him in the Lord’s hands. He got along quite well with his talk, and we left Salt Lake on a 5 p.m. flight for Los Angeles. After a good beef steak in the first class flight and our getting back to L.A. to the lower altitude, he seemed to feel better.

He carried on quite well with his work at the Center and even some speaking commitments. However, he continued to have bad days. I talked with Dr. Tucker and told him we just had to get him into a good cardiologist. He, through his medical channels, researched who would be the best to take him to. He soon learned that a Dr. Rex MacAlpin, a cardiologist and teaching physician at the UCLA medical school, was considered the number two cardiologist in the nation. Dr. Tucker tried to get an appointment with him, but Dr. MacAlpin said he was just too busy to take on any more patients.

We kept praying about it, realizing that we just had to get him in to a top doctor. Finally, Dr. Tucker called him again, and said, “Dr. MacAlpin, this man, S. Dilworth Young, is a very special man. He is a great grandson of Brigham Young.” Dr. MacAlpin said, “Oh, I didn’t realize. Let me look at my schedule, and I will call you back.” It was not very long until he called saying he would work him in the next day, Wednesday, May 13, at 2 p.m. We all felt very relieved.

As we arrived for the appointment, these two men, patient and doctor, seemed to relate to each other like old friends. Dr. MacAlpin examined him, learned his entire life and medical history, and to our awareness, was not taking any notes. It was almost as though a father and son were visiting together for three hours. He took many tests and “thumped” almost his entire body with the expertise of a violinist thumping the violin strings. Dil was completely at ease with him, and we left feeling that he was indeed in the care of an expert. I was to call him the next day and report on his condition, which I did.

He had no change in weight as a result of the diuretic. He had taken the potassium as directed, was on a “no salt” diet, bottled water, and long-time nitroglycerin. He had very little appetite and was half nauseated most of the time. He spent the full night sleeping in the chair with his feet elevated.

The next day after all of the tests had been completed, Dr. MacAlpin called and said that Dil had a serious sodium deficiency, and he was concerned that he was getting no response to the diuretic. He said Dil really should be in the hospital. We were just ready to eat, and I asked him if we could wait until we had finished eating. He said, “Mrs. Young, his heart is in such a condition that he could die any time.” I questioned if we should go back to Salt Lake immediately or stay here. He felt he was not in a condition to even make the trip home.

I then called Dr. Tucker and President McConkie, and with them and Dil, I relayed what the doctor had said. After considering the hazard of going home and probably not being able to get complete medical help until Monday, this being Friday, we realized that only the Lord knew the course that we should take. The four of us, therefore, united in a special prayer with President McConkie being voice. We all had a strong assurance that we should stay here and get the expert care of Dr. MacAlpin and the UCLA Hospital. We, therefore, made the necessary arrangements, and in a short time, had Dil at the hospital. Dr. MacAlpin left his home and drove in to meet us there.

Dr. MacAlpin started him immediately on intravenous diuretics and potassium. With the low sodium level, he had a no-salt diet and only 1,000 cc’s of water per day. The next day, the water was dropped to 500 cc’s per day to condense the water and raise the sodium level. After a couple of days, he was moved from intensive care. The heart was regular and he was wearing a nitroglycerin swatch.

On Friday, May 22, I spent most of the day at the hospital being instructed on our role at home in the care of one with congestive heart failure. The doctor said that since I was so knowledgeable regarding his care, he would let me take him home if we had a hospital bed. That we soon acquired through the stake, which maintains two or three all the time to loan out to church members. Each day Dr. MacAlpin would call me, and I would give him a complete rundown on all of his vital signs, weight, activity, diet, rest, including the angle of his bed at which he had slept, etc. Then he would instruct me on exactly what to do for him that day. Never have I known of a doctor to maintain such close watch and care over a home patient. He called every day, even on weekends.

Dil would go to the Center at least once and sometimes twice a day, and three times a week he would instruct the missionaries in our 7:30 a.m. study class. He, of course, rested a great deal each day, and cut back on many, but not all of his speaking commitments. Each day as I would talk to the doctor, he would be amazed at what he had done and commented, “That man is not supposed to be able to do any of those things.”

Both Dil and I recognized that he was not really gaining ground, but miraculously some way, was hanging on. I guess we were really clinging to a fulfillment of the three blessings given to him by the priesthood that he would be able to complete his mission and return home. In his hours alone while I was finishing up the work at the Center, I know he thought about everything. He tried to prepare me in every way to make sure I was fully informed on our financial and legal matters and everything I would need to take care of when he was gone. He would talk very openly to me about it. He could talk more freely about it than I could, because I kept telling myself that the Lord would give us some extra time when we got home. Nevertheless, I would think a great deal about it also, which was very difficult together with my trying to carry on with what was needed at the Center. He also said occasionally, “If I live long enough to do much after we get home, I will organize that east room downstairs for my office and for painting. I will not plan to go back to the church offices again. My office will be home.”

Although we, of course, had prayer together night and morning, I would frequently overhear him pouring out his heart to the Lord when he was in bed, the hospital bed. It seemed that his greatest concern was whether he was worthy to go, worthy to meet the Savior. It caused me to recall the many times I had heard him instruct missionaries about how to learn to know the Savior so they could be more effective in their missionary labors. Sometimes he would turn a testimony bearing period over to them which was to bear testimony only about the Savior. He would give them a few minutes first to review any scripture about Him that they may wish to refer to. It became a choice spiritual experience for everyone. Because of his unique and choice sense of humor, not everyone knew of the depth of his spirituality. It was there and it was real and it guided his life.

After we finished our last program on June 19 and 29, which turned out very successful, our full thoughts were turned to completely finishing things up at the Center and getting our personal things ready to return home. I don’t know what we would have done had Olive and Vernon not come down for our last program and then stayed to help us get packed, our storage and complete living furniture and household items, ready for the moving van to ship back home.

Dil and I came home by Western Airlines plane arriving in Salt Lake at 9 p.m. Tuesday, June 30. We were welcomed at the airport by Blaine and Leonore Parkinson, their sons Dan and Parky, and Parky’s two children Dula and Julia, as well as a delegation of members of the First Quorum and their wives. They included Carlos Asay, Ted Tuttle, Lorin Dunn, Rex Pinegar, and Gene Cook. They were concerned that they may not see him alive if they didn’t greet him on his arrival. This was very true. This was really true because Dil was extremely tired. He could hardly make it from the bench at the terminal to the taxi which brought us home. Nevertheless, he was very happy to see everyone.

He felt good about walking into the home which James and Giana had kept so very nicely for us. They had a hospital bed all ready for him, and we got him to bed as soon as possible.

On Wednessday, July 1, our first day home, Dil took a look around the house and stood at the windows and looked out at the yards and surroundings. He loved his home and the yards he had put in place. He spent the day resting, reading, enjoying the house, and listening to some of his favorite symphony recordings. I talked with Dr. Burtis Evans, and he said to bring him in on Friday, unless there seemed to be some emergent need before then. I continued to follow the instructions Dr. MacAlpin had given me on Tuesday, although I missed not talking with him again.

I worked desperately with James and Giana to move furniture, etc., so we could unload the van. Leonore came down on Thursday when it arrived, and she helped by guiding the movers as to which direction to take each box, upstairs, downstairs, etc. The whole house was now a matter of isles of boxes.

Friday, July 3, we had an early appointment with Dr. Evans. He checked Dil and said to continue what we were doing and to call him on Monday. In the evening when he got undressed for bed, Dil had a violent breathing attack. Then it relieved and he rested fairly well.

On Saturday, which was the Fourth of July, Dil just wanted to rest. I felt uneasy because I did not have the assurances that Dr. MacAlpin had given us daily. So I called him and unburdened my soul to him and shed a few tears. He was very understanding and helpful. By evening, Dil started having more breathing problems. I tried to located Dr. Evans and get some oxygen, but no one was available on this holiday, not even his answering service. Finally, I moved furniture and got Dil’s bed right in the path of the open door, and he seemed to relieve a bit.

On Sunday morning, he coughed up a big blood clot. I was finally able to reach Dr. Evans at 7 a.m., and he had me increase the diuretic then and again at 3 p.m. At 10 a.m., I was able to get oxygen for him, which helped a great deal. About 1 p.m., I had a neighbor nurse come and help me check his blood pressure. When I showed her the blood clot, she was very disturbed and insisted that we call the doctor again. He told me to just watch him carefully and to call him again at 5 p.m. He then had me take him immediately to the hospital, which James helped me to do.

I stayed all night at the hospital with Dil. The staff brought in a cot and placed it by his bed for me to sleep. We were in Room 701 West. It was actually a two-room suite on the southwest corner. I called Elder Ezra Taft Benson and Elder Carlos Asay to let them know Dil was in the hospital, which they appreciated. Leonore came at about 1 p.m. to relieve me so that I could go home and shower and get a little rest, as I had slept very little the last two nights. The Nielsen family all came up in the afternoon and picked cherries and raspberries, cleaned the yard, and with Olive’s guidance, opened and unloaded the mountain of boxes left by the movers.

I got back to the hospital about 8 p.m., and Dil was unhappy because I had been gone so long. He rested quite well at night except for more coughing and blood clots, which I understand was tissue from so much water on the lungs. By noon I felt that we were not getting enough guidance on his condition and that it was worsening, so I had other specialists called in. They were Dr. Michael Preece and also Dr. Russell Nelson.

In a short time, Dr. Preece and an intern, Dr. Rizzardi, called me out and explained that medically they were up against the wall, that the heart was literally worn out and could not last much longer, a few hours or a few days. Dr. Preece explained two medical procedures they could pursue. They could keep him free from pain either way, but one option would cause him to go into a coma and not be conscious to communicate. The other option would permit him to be conscious almost up to the end, but still no more pain. I suggested we keep him conscious as long as possible. Dr. Preece told me to be sure and take care of any necessary legal or financial matters tomorrow, Wednesday, and to have family and friends who would like to see him to also come tomorrow, particularly the Brethren.

I passed this word on to some of the Brethren, family, and some close friends whom I felt Dil would like to see. I stayed alone with Dil for the night. He rested fairly well, but was getting weaker although he was fully conscious. Although I had known his time was near at hand, it was very difficult for me to think of letting him go. He had been a wonderful husband, I loved him dearly, although I didn’t want him to stay and suffer. He wanted me to hold his hand and to be touching him all the time. I noticed that as I gently ran my fingers over his body, he relaxed. I stood by his bed and did that most of the night. When I would stop, his eyes would open, and he would say, “Don’t go.” Those are precious, sacred moments that I shall always cherish. We didn’t talk much, but when his eyes were open, I would kiss him and reassure him that I loved him.

Leonore and Blaine and all of the grandchildren in the area came to see him, as well as some of my family who have been very close to him. President Hinckley, Elder Mark E. Petersen, Elder Richard G. Scott, and several other brethren came as well as my bishopric. Bruce and Amelia McConkie came about 9 p.m. Bruce gave Dil another blessing reassuring him that the Lord’s will would be done. I then started walking out with them and Elder McConkie offered to give me a blessing also. It was a beautiful blessing reassuring me that I would have wisdom and strength to cope with the requirements of the next few days incident to his passing. He confirmed that the Lord’s will was being done, that Dil’s life and labors had been acceptable to Him, as was also mine, and that there was much ahead yet for me to do and the Lord would bless me. He, through the priesthood, pronounced a blessing upon me. It was very strengthening and gave me a peace that everything would be alright.

In talking with me after, Bruce told me that my blessing was full of light and hope for the future. On the other hand, Dil’s blessing was as though there was nothing yet in life for him to do, that his life would be terminated. As I felt the strength of Elder McConkie’s priesthood, I was comforted. Leonore stayed with me through the night and we rotated in standing by Dil and getting a little rest on the cot.

On Thursday, July 9, many people dropped by. It seemed as though to bid farewell. Dil was fully alert. Some had brief conversations with him. Then his breathing became more difficult even though he now had an oxygen mask. Leonore and I continued to stand on either side of his bed, and I continued to run my fingers gently over his body. We talked of the sacredness of death and the possible struggle between the spirit and the body when this change takes place. He was now breathing so heavily that it seemed his whole body was truly struggling. In just a second, it ended; there was no more struggle; the chest and heart area became tranquil; a beautiful peace came over his countenance, almost like a smile. I immediately received a witness that the Lord’s will had been manifest, and that Dil’s spirit was now free from his worn out body and ready to go on to a glorious new existence with others of his loved ones who had preceded him, that in time, if I can prove worthy, I too can be with him. It was all like a great miracle, just as much a miracle in the Lord’s plan as birth.

Yes, the shock was there, that he could no longer speak to me in person, but that beautiful peace promised to me by Elder McConkie seemed to envelop me like a robe. I was seeing a part of eternity at 2:10 p.m. in the LDS Hospital.

Naming the S. Dilworth Young Memorial Garden

I returned on Sunday, April 10, 1982, from Los Angeles where I spent three days at the invitation of the Visitor Center people, especially Elder and Sister Reid and Thelma Brown, who succeeded us as directors of the Center. They have been successful in raising sufficient money to now have sound equipment installed in the pedestals of the woman’s monument garden, which Dil had constructed. This equipment makes it possible for visitors to hear the beautiful narration of Dil’s poetry regarding each statue as they walk through the garden. It is a beautiful conclusion to a project that we initiated when we were first assigned to the Los Angeles Temple Visitors Center in February of 1979.

Our first big event was held in August of 1979, at which time we had three glorious evenings of the program Honoring Women held on a Thursday, Friday and Saturday, at which special guests from Salt Lake attended. As I recall, they were Sister Elaine A. Cannon, General President of the Young Women, Sister Shirley Thomas, Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, Elder Mark E. Petersen, and Sister and President Ezra Taft Benson. Our program was held outside and the thirteen miniature bonze women’s statues, replicas of the life-size statues in the garden in Nauvoo, Illinois, were placed on temporary pedestals on the lawn in front of the Visitors Center. At the suggestion of Sister Elaine Cannon, the Young Women and the Young Adult Relief Society sisters were invited to make contributions that in large part paid for the statues. It was a thrilling and beautiful evening. The program consisted of the narration of Dils poetry regarding the statues by Lorraine Day Grilikhus, Mel Marshall, and Heather Young (Patty Youksteter), and the showing on a huge screen 45 feet by 8 feet, three scenes simultaneously of the various women’s monuments. Musical underscoring and also special selections correlated with the narration were presented by a lovely women’s chorus under the direction of Maryann Mendenhall. The pictures for the slides were taken by Brother Robert Zornes. It was all a glorious and thrilling occasion. Three large regional choruses of Young Women sang on succeeding evenings.

It took one year, however, for the money to be raised for the construction of a sunken garden, for plans to be approved for its design, and for the construction to be completed. It was designed by Brother Don Peart and constructed by Brother Ralph Evans, a former missionary of Dil’s. Then in August of 1980, the garden was dedicated by Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone, the Area Administrator for the Southern California Area. Sister Elaine A. Cannon, General President of the Young Women, attended the first night, a Saturday, and one of her board members, Sister Nedra Warner, attended the second night. Sister Barbara B. Smith, General President of the Relief Society, and her husband, Douglas Smith also attended. The program was a new approach of tribute to women, developing the theme of the statues. It was directed by Sister Kit Regas and included the narration of Dil’s poetry and music by Maryann Mendenhall, different narrators than last year, and the portrayal of the statues with living images representing numerous ethnic cultures. In some instances, the statue was portrayed with three different cultures simultaneously. Some ethnic choirs also performed as well as one large regional chorus. Our response to these programs, which were held on a Saturday and a Sunday evening, was so overwhelming, that for the Sunday evening performance, the attendance was estimated to be about 8,000.

Last June on Friday and Saturday, June 19 and 20, 1981, our last big function in Los Angeles, we held our third annual Woman’s Program. It was very much a repeat of the program the previous year directed by Sister Kit Regas, only on a somewhat smaller scale. We didn’t have any speakers or special guests, just the program itself. I was greatly concerned as to whether Dil would make it through it, because he was so very, very weak, but he insisted on conducting each night. The people loved him so much, they really responded to his refined, humorous, and yet sensitive conducting. His style is a beautiful blend of all. He was so weak, however, that I had to walk with him up the steps and stay near to help him down. The program was beautiful and also the garden, and was indeed our concluding big event in the Los Angeles area.

We returned home on Tuesday, June 30, and by Sunday, July 5, we had to take Dil to the hospital. He passed away on Thursday, July 9, about 2:10 p.m. in the LDS Hospital. His funeral service was held on Monday, July 13, in the Ensign Stake House as the Assembly Hall was under renovation.

The special program this past weekend, April 10, 1982, was for the purpose of “celebrating the completion of the Woman’s Monument Garden and honoring its founder, the late S. Dilworth Young.” It rained much of the day, but about an hour or so before starting time, it cleared off, and we had a lovely evening. The program was held outside in front of the Center and included the live reading of Dil’s poetry, as it is presently recorded for replay in the statues, and special music by the Southern California Mormon Choir under the direction of Russell Fox. Elder Robert L. Simpson, a member of the First Quorum of Seventy, and presently the President of the Los Angeles Temple, conducted the service and paid beautiful tribute to Dil as the founder of the garden, and in whose honor the garden was now named. Reference was made to the bronze plaque on the cement at the front of the garden reading, “The S. Dilworth Young Memorial Garden.”

I had been invited to come down for this purpose and intended to sit out in the audience and fully enjoy the program. However, as I arrived for the program, a few minutes before starting time, I was ushered to my seat on the stand with Elder and Sister Niles Sorensen, regional representatives. On the opposite side were Elder and Sister Simpson and Elder and Sister Brown. My heart was full of emotion as I was flooded with the many memories of Dil and me in our efforts there with the garden and at the Center.

At the beginning of the program after Elder Simpson’s remarks, they introduced a Mr. Zev Yaroslavsky, Los Angeles City Councilman, and explained that he had come to make a special presentation. He then displayed a beautiful scroll about 15 inches wide and 20 inches long titled “Resolution to S. Dilworth and Hulda Parker Young.” He then read a lengthy series of resolutions citing the accomplishments of the Center and its contributions to the cultural and spiritual tone of the City of Los Angeles through the services of Mr. and Mrs. Young. I was moved as he came and presented it to me. I, at the moment, assumed that this was probably set in motion by Brother Mike Grilikhus, but later learned that Maryann Mendenhall was the one who had acquainted Mr. Yaroslavsky with the function, and he carried it from there.

At the conclusion of the program, Elder Simpson announced that three sisters, Maryann Mendenhall, Kit Poole, and Jackie Cowgill had a special presentation to make. In turn they each gave a very beautiful tribute to me, and then each presented me with some gorgeous red roses. I was moved to tears by their generous comments.

Then Elder and Sister Brown had me come to the pulpit for another presentation. They presented me with a beautiful plaque containing an 8 inch by 10 inch colored picture of Dil and me, the one we had Brother Weldon Anderson take just before leaving Los Angeles. Accompanying the picture on the plaque was a reproduction, in bronze, of the very tender poem that Dil wrote and presented to me on January 4, 1980, our fifteenth wedding anniversary. He had beautifully penned it on a sheet of his official personal church stationery. At the bottom of the plaque was an inscription in bronze, “Compliments of the Los Angeles Temple Visitors Center.” I was so surprised when they opened the package and gave me the plaque that I could hardly speak. It was beautiful, and my heart was almost bursting with emotion.

I pulled myself together and expressed my appreciation to everyone involved in the entire evening’s activities and to so many who had worked untiringly with us to bring about the garden, including Ralph W. Evans, Dil’s missionary, who was willing to have covered the entire cost of the garden, if necessary, in order to get it completed for Dil. There were many others also. I spoke briefly about Dil’s special feelings toward womanhood and how, from the time of our marriage, he had made me feel like a queen. I told of his constant courtesy to women, his tenderness, kindness, and real sensitivity toward the significant role of women. I noted that the sentiments portrayed in his poetry regarding women, merely reflect his own personal feelings and relationship toward women. At the conclusion of my remarks, I invited his grandchildren, Dilworth and Charlotte, who had come down especially for the program, to come to the front. I introduced them, telling a little about their background and accomplishments. The California people have had no opportunity to know anything about our family, and I felt they were very interested in my introducing the children to them.

At the conclusion of the program, there were many who came up and greeted me. It was indeed a beautiful evening that I shall always remember. It was a gorgeous, peaceful setting there on the grounds. The temple was all aglow with the lights in the grillwork and up to the spire. The Christus behind in the Visitors Center was brilliantly white as a result of its recent cleaning, and the Southern California Choir, standing in front of the Visitors Center singing in their lovely white attire, all looked like angels. I felt that Dil was with me all evening, and many others commented about it as well.

I had arrived in Los Angles on Friday morning, April 9, at 8:30 a.m., accompanied by Meryl Ward, a niece of Gladys’ who has been very close to Dil and who was on a mission in the Corona area while we were at the Visitors Center.

We arrived at the Visitors Center about 5:45 p.m., and as I walked into the Temple apartment complex, and especially over to the apartment that was our bedroom part of our three-room apartment, I literally fell apart. All of the memories of our happy days in that apartment came flooding back to my awareness, and I could hardly stop crying. Elder and Sister Roy Maughan, some of our former missionaries, had come down for the occasion and were staying in that room. They were so sweet to me.

I then went over to the Visitors Center, and as I walked into that monument garden, I broke down into tears. Every place I looked, I could “see” Dil. I recalled the time he called me to his side there, put his arm around me, and with a twinkle in his eye, said, “Honey, there is probably no one else in the world who has two headstones erected to his memory while he is still living!” Then he pointed to the two large marble monuments at each end of the garden, bearing a gold plaque containing the inscription of his 13 poems honoring women, and showing his name as the author.

It was a beautiful evening. The sky was clear, and the moon and stars were out. People were leaving the temple and heading homeward. The Visitors Center was still open and some of the people there were strolling around the monument garden. Someone had just started playing the recording of the poetry, so I also went from monument to monument as the poetry regarding each statue was narrated. It was beautiful and rich in resonance, but spoken with deep feeling. I felt Dil would approve wholeheartedly. In fact, I felt such a comforting spirit, and that he was right there walking with me. There were no tears now, but a heavenly peace.

After leaving there, I walked around the Temple where we so frequently walked together. Almost every evening after we closed up the Center, we would leave hand in hand out the front door, and walk two or three times around the temple, talking over the activities of the day and our future plans at the Center. I felt him with me as I went around to the front of the Temple, noted each tree where we had strung Christmas lights, and recalled the breathtaking sight this presented. I sat on one of the cement ledges near the walk in front of the Temple and feasted on the beauty of the Temple as it stood there so majestically as a great beacon of light on the hill.

I rehearsed in my mind many of the very special experiences Dil and I had together there in Los Angeles. It was almost like a continued honeymoon, although it entailed much work and anxiety regarding our various undertakings. But I rejoiced in the increased love and bond that developed between us there. I came to understand Dil even better than I had ever done before, to recognize even more of his great and noble qualities, and to feel of his inspiration and wisdom as he guided the work there, even though I did a great deal of the leg work. I felt that we had come to know each other’s every heartbeat, and there had been a sharing that had truly made us one. I rejoiced in the gospel that gives the assurance of life eternal and to know that our associations will continue on in the eternities.

I poured my heart out to the Lord and prayed that I would be able to carry on my life in a way that would be pleasing to Him, and that I would be able to find whatever mission I was yet to accomplish in life. As some of the last people left the Temple, and the custodian locked the door, I thanked the Lord for the peace and solitude of that hour. It was nearing midnight as I too headed back. The garden lights were still on although the Center was dark. I had a warm glow in my heart as I gazed upon it again, a beautiful tribute to my Dil.

Hulda Parker Young 23 October 2004