TODAY WAS THE FUNERAL OF DEAN BAILEY, BORN AND STAYED A LOCAL GOOD MAN.

Dean Bailey was a son of gun, and a son of a Bishop. It was clear that Dean and his little brothers and sister would always stay on the straight and narrow, as his Daddy-Don Bailey was tough enough to take them all on at once, and the kids stayed pretty much on that fine line. Dean was a classmate of mine and the other close knit Class of 65. He was actually way older than me, however, as the Stork dropped me over the Jones Abode 32 days later. That was when many of the kids including Dean, had chores to do before and after school, and walked to and from school, as most kids did that on a routine basis. Dean must have more smarts that us lower IQ dumbbells', as he waited until many of his 100 school mates went off to college or to the front line of a foreign hell-hole called Nam. As soon as we were out of site, Dean started to sing to Ann Hall, and Heaven knows that Deano couldn't sing a lick like the Martin of Dean. Ann was a classmate, and she wasn't just beautiful, but smart too. I had to take a break to go through the 1965 Nebonian, and although Ann made an entry in my book, she and most of the kids didn't believe I could survive rolling down two flights of cement stairs like I did. That may be why Ann chose Dean as her one and only. I did have to say Hi to Ann on the way out, and told her I felt bad for what she had to endure, not only losing two of their kids, but being the caregiver to Dean. Funerals are not known for content and happiness, but as I sat near the last row of the filled chapel, I finally felt at home. Behind me were cousins Paula Garrett; Ilene Sanders; in front of me was war torn Glen Davis and his two sisters and to my left was Jimmy Ockey, and I pretended Ralph Murray was in his regular place on the back row so he could plug in the speaker system, but for some reason, the Bishop wasn't J. Ivan Tew; Donald Bailey or even Ralph Chase, but I could feel their presence and as all were 4th Warders, and when they may be called home, we all can care for Dean, so Ann can rest a bit as he is taken care of. I then gazed to my right and up near the top, I could sense my father-Alma Jones who was busy doing the stucco work, as that is what all 4th Warders did when that chapel was built. I mixed the mud while he plastered. Ann, Dean is well taken care of just like Perry did for you kids, and I felt comfort for your grandparents, as my father and me stuccoed their home. I felt more at my real home in the 4th Ward, as Nephi is not the Nephi we grew up in, and when we are called home to our real home, your folks & Dean will be there. That is not a bluff, although I have brain damage. Just the facts, Maam.

JAN.5 1979-THAT WAS ONE OF THE BEST DAYS IN MY LIFE.

I waited until I was 28 before I got hitched, and although that marriage may not have lasted for a record breaking time, we always remained friends, as we eventually had one more son, and I volunteered to raise them both. After working type vacations, we went to downtown Lehi(when it was a good rural area) and watched a movie titled "The Three Amigos". On the way home, we openly discussed how the three of us were such good friends, we referred to our gang as "The Three Amigos", and used that terminology a great deal, but none of us wore a Sombrero, but this Daddy would often act the part of an Ass! Both boys grew up and Justin seemed to be gifted with an athletic ability, and he and best friend Paul Hansen were the stars of Little League and older basketball teams. Justin Wm. excelled in all sports and was given an opportunity to join a Sand Volleyball League as the kid getting the "get away" ball. The older players were good for Justin, until ESPN came along and had to let him go as one of their advertisers was a beer, and so those summer events for Justin were terminated. Troy had a gift for fixing things and without any education in that area, he was able to tear apart a tiller and rebuild it. He had a gift for that and although he worked on cars, he couldn't find the correct nitch. Both boys got a high school degree, but it was a big school full of gangs, so they missed out the friendships of a Juab High of yesteryear. Justin made the schools Junior High Basketball team, and I thought he was the new John Stockton, but recognized that making it on a big city team is like many of our politicians, who do things the wrong way, and only do things for their own wealth. Justin was a hard worker and eventually worked his way up the ladder to assist in the process of a new robot computer system which could replace a damaged heart valve. When I moved back to my hometown of Nephi, a natural separation of Dad and his sons came in, and with one on one talks with them, I could feel their tension within. I had a career in law enforcement that tries to help, and suggested that both seek that route, but it appeared the counseling only drained my work savings, and I honestly felt a Judge could not openly see the real issues. Justin was hurting within and I could feel a gasket was about to blow. Neither of his two marriages seemed to mesh, and at 10;31 P. M. on August 21, 2017, he took his own life, and on a repeated occasion, like others who have kids on the wrong path, my heart bleeds. And today, I will attend a funeral of a classmate father who tragically lost two kids. When Troys big brother abruptly terminated life on earth, Troy began to have various issues and now wanders the streets with no names, in search for himself. Although I am a Sinner, I know that God hears every prayer, both spoken and unspoken. When my grandfathers clock stopped ticking and never to go again, that woke me up, as I felt a terrible force in the universe, but felt that JJ and God must have made the Final Agreement. Me and my sons loved Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera Musical and Justin and I sold our Gold Wing motorcycle to fly to the City by the Bay and watch it. It's only fitting that I attached this writing! Although Justin is not with me, in a way he is and say Happy Heavenly Birthday Justin.

TODAY WAS THE FUNERAL OF SHANNON WHITE OF NEPHI, UTAH

Shannon White, once of downtown Monroe, Utah, quickly fit in just fine when his parents and the rest of the family arrived in Nephi, Utah in 1959. Shannon didn't have enough time to join his new hometown, as he graduated from South Sevier High School, and called up during the Viet Nam War, and stationed in Korea, which may still be one of the country's that has war's  we seem to still be fighting. As great leaders have come to know, regardless of your line of work, every job is a critical factor to a team working together. While in the U.S. Army, he was stationed in Korea, and trained to be a mechanic, and it seemed all along in his life, he could fix about anything. He got hooked up with Gayle Chamberlain who brought two kids into that marriage, and then they had two more to make it a nice and dandy happy home. When his parents moved to Nephi, it was of the begging from his friend-Steve Greenwood, who also was from Monroe, and bought into the Chevrolet Dealership near 7th North in Nephi, and when Whiz White joined Greenwoods, Shannon's younger brother-Hap, who was called  "Happy" because of his outgoing friendliness, became pals with Hal Jones- a next door neighbor to the Chevy dealership. And then another Jones boy become a great friend of Vard White, and they went on their JHS graduation trip to Idon'trecall, Nevada!  Steve Greenwood hired Hal to help with the Tire recapping Business, and Whiz White started selling the used cars for Steve, but always had their new Chey's in the showroom. Each time I spent time on the outside of my home, I could always count on Hap or Shannon to stop and chat as when they left the shop, they would take a turn around their work site. My mother needed a new roof on the 1886 Pioneer home on 7th, and she wanted Shannon White to do it, as he "is one I can trust". Each time I did a visit with Shannon, it was one of his outstanding internal gifts and that was his "duty to serve", and he did that with his all of his family, with his wife who needed constant care; to his country; his church; Lions Club; American Legion; his work with his brothers in "White Bros. Trailer's" and just a plain great guy. Although his death was tragic, his appearance in the Heavenly Clouds will be Bliss. Great Job On Earth Shannon!

I BELIEVE IN GUARDIAN ANGELS

I am not sure what prompted me to scribble my thoughts, but it could be after watching Jimmy Stewart in the TV movie of  "It's A Wonderful Life". That movie launched that actor into a variety of other Movies and it is hard to believe, at least for this old gruff, that renowned Christmas movie was made before I was even born, and that was the first time I had seen it. During commercial breaks, I recalled the time me and my two sons had the opportunity to be in the movie "Avenging Angel" with Charles Heston playing the role of Brigham Young. Then at another TV commercial, I thought of another made for TV Series which me and my two sons were in as well as our baseball team, in "Touched By An Angel". Although I wasn't impressed with the stars of that series, our baseball team was impressed as the team got a big bonus check for playing baseball, and they are still waiting for the phone call from the New York Yankees! Although many may describe me as a "Heathen",  I confess that may describe me, but I feel that my life  has been spared many times on earth just may have been spared time after time, and still not sure why. One thing I do believe in for sure- their is eternal life for those of us wandering around our short time here on earth, and to me, after several encounters with death itself, it is all a mere weekend test for all of us, and their are those who have known us in our times on earth or in a prior life form who are sent to be our "Guardian Angels" when we wander where it is dangerous. My brother Hal and I have fished in American Fork Canyon for more years of life than some of the local  "Hellions"  that speed up there, then speed down and no idea of how to enjoy the drive! To them, like we were once upon a time, speed is their only purpose of their need to go like a bat out of Hell, and their have been occasions I have traveled there alone on Thanksgiving Day to take in God's wondrous beauty of the earth and trees, and for answers such as what Jimmy Stewart felt while on the Bridge to take his own life as he thought his life was a waste as he mistakenly thought down about himself. But behold, along comes an Angel type who had not yet earned his Wings, as he needed to convince Mr. Bailey to see what his life would have been had he never lived. When I went to American Fork Canyon to fish one day, I parked by what my brother had called "The Rock" which was a golden place to catch an unsuspecting German Brown and where Hal should have been killed after being swept down the raging river. The wind was blowing hard that day and I could hear the breaking of limb's as I parked. Just before I got out to send the wiggly worm on to the hook, I felt the presence of others on my right shoulder, and it was an intense knowledge that I needed to get the Hell out of there and followed that feeling, gunning in down like the Hellions I had called the youngins. The next week, my brother and I parked at the same place to fish and told him of my experience and low and behold there was a giant tree that had fell down right where my life had been spared. To me, that was pure knowledge that Guardian Angels prompted me, and those Guardian Angels must have came in droves like a four alarm fire, as I got down where the sudden wind came up and felt it was not yet my time. Then other times, I have sat at my desk at home and for some odd reasons, I stack old artifact's and photos in piles and the same photo or journal would fall on the floor in front of me and I would routinely pick it up time after time. Once was a photo of my great Uncle Hy Tolley who had the vocabulary of J. Golden Kimball, who was a swearing General Authority of the LDS Church. When Uncle Hy's Photo on his horse fell for the last time, I could feel his presence above my right shoulder and the "no-word" words he shouted to my heart or dead brain was "For Hell's sake, you are the only one that knows my history, now Dam it, write it" and I did. I finally felt it as if he was really there. To me, it doesn't matter if you are a saint or sinner, their is mystical and Magical thing on earth that we often can't see or hear, but miracles do happen and angelic beings are sent to help us through those things, but we have to be in a position to accept those things we don't fully understand. If I was one of those Pioneers coming across the Plains with Brigham Young, and I asked him to stop a minute, so I could call my loved ones back in the British Isle's, he would have kicked me out of the Mormon Faith, for picking up a small piece of metal out of my Bibs and talking to folks thousands of miles away. Nowadays, it is a given, but not back in those "Kick that son of the Devil" out of my presence. My final advice is similar to what our Baseball Little League Coach-Craig Scilanno would often say "Never Ever Give Up" before he collapsed on the field at 38, and sadly died leaving a son and pregnant wife. And my CPR didn't bring him back, and both my sons never recovered from that nor have I. We all have Angels that just may have not received their wings yet. So Never Ever Give Up.

NO SURE WHY, BUT ITS TEN YEARS OF DOING HISTORY BLOGS, WE BROKE OUR RECORD

Once upon time, my 4th grade history teacher-Earl Bowles had several teacher to student chats, as I had a strong desire to be the clown of the class, and when Robert Painter came by my house 6 years ago, he couldn't understand why I had a cane and hobbling along to get back home. I tried to fumble the words that the Politician's were trying to kill me, as it was after I got the "One shot does it all". I got the Chinese Shot as the 6 County Government held a meeting in Nephi with various government employees saying we had better comply or "Else". I had absolute belief it was a hoax, but after falling down three times while walking up my driveway, and having three brain concussion, I somehow survived, and tried to tell that to Robert, and not really knowing how serious it was with "brain damage", Robert responded as to how I knew he would said "Jones, we have been friends since the 4th Grade, and you have always had brain damage". I tried to laugh, but the only thing that happened was other body noise occurred. Anyway, after the teacher disciplined me, he started to chat about what he was forced to do fighting Nazi's during WW T'wo. From that day on, I have a love for history, and asked my folks if I could save and store the generation's of journals, letters and artifacts going back to Pioneer Days, which included papers belonging to the LDS General Authorities. I buried most of it until I retired ten years ago, then retrieved it and wrote the history. The blog now has 11,104 hits during December, and approaching 1.3 million hits from around the world, but slowing down, as arthritis is not only up and down  my spine, but in my typing fingers, so  slowed. My mother was a Typing Whiz her career, and taught me when I was 12. I fought her at first, saying that is only for girls. She then said, you will have time for the girls, and when you get older, even boys will have to type! She was right, as Mother and Fathers Know Best. And by the way, I took Church Items to LDS HQ, I had to retell the story several times, and finally said I will tell it One More Time, so get your ducks in a row. That is when an Apostle showed up and could see it was the Church Journal for Keeping Tithes in the Northville Church, which when in those days wasn't in cash, but sacks of grain or barley. End of Story.

UTAH TROOPER SCOTT SPARKS ALWAYS GAVE GOOD ADVICE

When the spark plugs were hitting just fine in the life of the earthly body of Scott Sparks of Nephi, Utah, the Jones Clan would hang out at his house for a couple of different reasons. First and most important was we had to get over to his house on Saturday's to help his Dad load and unload the candy truck, as he may head out to various stores in the area. At the time Dee Sparks was the Candy Man who made sure all people near and far had their adequate supply of chocolate covered sugar! Mr. Dee Sparks was an excellent business man and not just a good father figure. His Candy Elf's were Hal, who was Scott's close friend all the days they were both on earth riding their Harleys or fishing with a Mepps spinner, then there was Kent, who was built like a Mars Bar, but basically brain dead; then Gary- the tall skinny brilliant kid who needed more sugar to grow, then little sister Jaynette, a friend of Scotts sister-Ann, as she couldn't lift the heavy boxes of candy, but had enough Spice in her to make us clean or dust the shelves in Dee's candy truck. Parents in those days knew who and where their kids were and didn''t need a hand held teleprompter to guide them or us. At lunch time, Mrs. Sparks would fetch us something, or we would hike the block home to find some of LaVon's hot bread or cookies, then more chores mowing the lawn with a motorless push mower or clean house and iron clothes; chew on a cherry stick from the two trees that held up our Thermoid made hammock. Weston Jones wasn't a "certified" Candy Elf, and too busy with Joe Garrett catching wild horses on the Juab West Desert. When all that fun stuff was done, we would head back to the Scott's place for a game of  Kick the Can and others would stop by to join up including the granddaughter's of Uncle Hy Tolley(Zabriskie's). Hal and Scott weren't too much into football but they both had strong legs which could send a can out on Main Street. Those were the days My Friends and like the Song says, We Really "Didn't Think They Would Ever End." But as we get older we discovered that our short existence on earth is merely a weekend in God's eternal plan and Scott and his family had to deal with it on earth and Scott is undoubtedly doing what he has been trained to do while his Class of Juab High pal-Hal went to war with the 9th Infantry Division in a foreign land that most students still don't know about. Scott became a Utah Highway Patrol Trooper and a good one at that. And so did another friend and Class of 64 buddy-Mike Royce who not only served in Viet Nam, but convinced Hal Jones if they were going to buy one of those brand new Honda 50's, Hal would have to find a real job as the "Serv" won't take candy bars as money. Hal started working dam hard and still does at 80 plus! A bunch of those very great friends consisted of John Lomax, who became one of the best Undercover Cops Utah ever had, then Leon Pexton, who eventually became refined with his intelligent abiity and became an Excellent Mayor of Nephi. Mike also became a State Trooper and renowned pilot like Leon and all the Pextons. He used to  fly Governor Matteson around and also assisted me in a flight to the Northwest to bring back a Fugitive Cop Killer, and the bad guy got nervous when Capt. Royce did some circling around a dense forest in Idaho and when I put my hand on the door, our bad guy had to sit in his own ......Diaper, as I had him chained down. Then came Carl Parkin or Frank to his widow, but everybody else in Nephi called him "Chopper", and what a cut-up he was, who turned to be an excellent Army Man stationed in Germany, then artist; wood turner and just an all round friend for life. Scott was the one that made sure they would all get together once a month and have dinner together, and on a couple occasions, this no-account Jones kid had the privilege of meeting them at a secret fishing hole for all the Nephi buddies and their spouses and even though both Chopper and Scott would be hit with paralyzing diseases, neither of them complained but accepted it as a part of life, and with Scott, I joined Hal when we would pick him up for a lunch or when confined to a bed or mobile chair never complained even when his mother was tragically killed in a car wreck or other medical issues in the family. We give Thanks and Celebrate the Life and Times of He would would become the Savior of all of us. We pay special tribute to Scott Sparks as one who will be crowned as a "Great Cop"  and his wife will undoubtedly be crowned one of God's Top People. Scott, You Did Well, but don't send any more of  Fub Hebbler's spinners up here! They get snagged on the wings of our Guardian Angels.

G. B. JONES-ONCE OF UTAH, WON'T BE RACING THE 2026 IDITAROD IN ALASKA

I know, I know, it is a difficult thing to accept, but his siblings down here in the Lower 48 will miss G.B. not pursing the Red Lantern at next year's Iditarod. That race is more or less the distance of 1049 miles, and various rules apply to the management and care of the dogs, and needless to say it is not just a weekend 5-K for the Musher or the Mutts. In Nephi, Utah, where Gary grew up and still calls it his hometown, he has been told by all of us that his town is not what it used to be when he graduated in 1966. In Alaska-the last frontier, there is no other sports quite like the Iditarod. To us folks down here in Ruralville, working or Little League is a critical thing to start off with, and although we no longer have the great dirt roads we used to, a good family like the Wright's in Beaver County, Utah still does and have the biggest rodeo fans in the lower 48, and some of us just returned from Las Vegas, where we watched three brothers take Championship buckles home, and a million dollars of cold hard cash. What the boys may have forgot, however, is they left their wives and sisters at home to take care of the horses and cattle while they are hitting rodeos, and they- more than City Slickers have earned their rightful share of the profits! G.B. has raced in several of the Iditarod races, and as may be noted by an attached Utah paper clipping, he has an absolute love for those dogs he trained and ran with, and did so without money from the big profit folks that we often see other professionals get addicted to. As such, he is the idol of school kids, and a gifted speaker. When any of G.B's dogs wear out, he will give them to a proper home or other Musher and did send "Nick" home to his sister here in Nephi. In his spare time, he is a writer of books that motivates the best in all of us, and his latest one may hit home with many in "The Man From Booger Hollow" and available at: AlaskanGardens.com or contact GB directly at GBJones@gmail.com. When he grew up down here he won various accolades as a gifted speaker, winning in speech and written contests. Back then he was known as Gary B. Jones; then when he hit the blizzards of The Last Frontier, he went with G.B. Jones, and now with his latest book, he uses his full name of Gary Bryan Jones. Many of the folks here remember he was the Jones Boy who was born with a gift to be a Musher, as he grew up in a barn, where he took care of chickens, ducks; miniature bovines, horses, swine and started us in the sheep business. When he went in the United States Army,  he sat right up front to be the gifted Ranger he was during the Era we called Viet Nam, but us teenagers at Juab High, we didn't know where Japan or Korea was, even though we had recent wars with those countries too. G.B. was then called up in the National Guard to be on Stand By for the first Middle East War, but that war was over before those folks had finished their cup of shai or Mint tea. That's a Rap!