His real name was Leland Belliston, but everybody called him "Bish" including himself. He lived in Nortonville at the home that was previously occupied by the Wm. Jones family. Bish raised crops there and hired me and my brothers to pull rye. During those sultry days I recall looking west watching the P.I.E. trucks go by, hoping I could hitch a ride to Nephi, just to stick my head out the window and cool off. We came to understand that Bish treated us right and paid us well. He was quite a tall man and wide at the shoulders. Although he had kids that lived "up north", he was always alone. Most people in town knew him, as he didn't move his big four door sedan very fast. Kids thought his slow driving was a "hazard" and that nickname stuck with Bish. When his health declined, he moved to Nephi, in the home that was on the northwest corner of 8th North and 1st East. In 1971, my father hired me to help him repair that home, and I came to know Bish a little more than most teenagers in Nephi. He was actually a gentle giant, and his thoughts and words moved faster than his vehicle. I was taken back to find he was the "speedster" when he was on the high school basketball team. In going through old family documents, I now realize that Bish Belliston was an honest and forthright friend of my father. In his declining health, Bish wrote the postcard to his friend-Alma Jones, wanting to make sure he squared up with the money he owed for the cement work at the house. He did, and the recent notes show that sometimes, we don't know the whole story about a person, that Bish loved the ride through Juab County, and perhaps, just perhaps, a slower drive may show all of us the true beauty of the area. My hat goes off to Bish Belliston, and I apologize that I too may have inappropriately called him "Hazard", when my senses were not tuned correctly.
I want to share a "Bish Story" also. Like you, I had a different outlook of good old Bish until something happened which I still think is amazing. Growing up, I thought of him as that quiet, strange old hermit who lived up the lane from us (and yes, drove very slowly!!!). My folks would invite him to dinner sometimes..especially when they were feeding the guys working on the hay crew. I don't remember him ever talking, but surely he must have...as a teenager I probably just didn't listen. One Sunday he was with us for Sunday dinner...and after eating, while we were still at the table, he lifts a paper bag from beside his chair and hands it across the table to ME!!! He says "For your graduation...I hope you will like it, it was my mother's". Such a memory that sticks in my mind always. I opened the bag and there was a lovely old hand mirror which I love. I'm sure I did not express my feelings in any adequate way that day, but thru the years I've always hoped "he knows now" how much I treasure his gift. His mother's mirror is still with me as a "Pass On Antique" for one of my daughters. Since you can now find everything online these days, I've researched it (and him)...it is pictured online in Antique Mirrors of the 1800s. I discovered his mother died in 1929 so he had already kept it safe for 28 years after that when he gave it to me in 1957. I am honored.
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