All Birthdays are the same, yet different.

Yesterday, I turned 73 years old. That is the oldest I have ever been, and yet I started to die on the day I was born. Sounds like a mix between what Will Rogers or Yogi Bear may say, but it's true. Which was your favorite birthday or one you remember the most? A one year old tot may not remember theirs, but their parents sure will, then at two-the parents of that child are proud of what that kid can do. Although the toddler can hardly walk, the parents believe the child is destined to become a world recognized marathon runner; or a Sterling Scholar as they said the word "Mamma" at six months old. Then comes when you were 13 and all of a sudden, you became brilliant overnight, and your parents were "so stupid"; then the descriptions of your parents change when you get a little more wisdom as you grow older. A big turning point for me personally, was at age 21, which at the time was the legal age to vote, and what a thrill it was to put the papers together to do that American thing. I was living in a foreign country, so there were a lot of hoops to jump through to get it to work, but always remember that birthday. And yesterday, was another good one. I traveled to Salt Lake and my second son-Troy took me too lunch and we were both happy, that maybe both of us are not as lost as we were, that we are beginning to search deep within ourselves, in order to find who and what we are. I also wanted to attach the letter by first son-Justin had sent on my birthday seven years ago. At the time, I am sure I read it, then put it away in a binder, where I would keep track of all the letters I received from my family; just like my parents; grandparents and great grandparents did. I guess it is a "family tradition". When my son "JJ" sent the birthday note, he was still going through struggles that life often presents us, but only Justin, me and his mother knew of his depression, which started when he experienced trauma as a young teenager, but held it to himself. He was our "golden  boy", excelling in anything he participated in, including basketball, baseball, and had the personal ability to get along with anybody, and quickly chosen as one who would communicate to battered children and help all people and animals. Although we worked through his depression without anybody else suspecting the turmoil within, I thought he had enough inner strength to pull himself out, but we lost him when he took his own life four years after writing the letter. It was only recently that I re-discovered the letter, and have re-read it many times, and how much it re-breaks my heart, but coming to terms he did fulfill all he could do while on earth, and our family has felt his spirit that he is okay, and time to go through his things and share the goodness of Justin Wm. Jones of Nephi, Utah. Fathers Day comes up in a couple days, and I will find my own seclusion, but remain proud of my Father, and the many fathers in my family, and stand proud of both of my sons so thanks to both of them for giving me the honor of being their father and a happy birthday it was.

How to remove a two barb fish hook from your thumb.

It seems like I took Fishing.101 either in college or with the Boy Scouts, but maybe it was taught by an old John Wayne movie, back in the days when men were men! When or where ever it was, I am still alive to write about it, and thought I would, before I see that bright light again! Today I took McCord Jones to nearby Burraston Ponds, as it was his first chance to be in the movies, or at least one that is being made for the Juab County Travel Council to show tourists the good stuff to see in Juab County. After the shooting, McCord needed to go help his grandpa celebrate his birthday. I didn't want to go to an old man's birthday party, as I was still the young and physically fit 16 year old stud I was more than a half century ago, so I strayed up Nephi Canyon with my pole and worms, I sought out that hidden fishing hole I made as a kid when my dad would drop me off at "Dad and Sons" on a Saturday and I would fish all the way home, as I loved fishing and my mother liked to cook and eat them. Needless to say after 50 plus years, Salt Creek changed its course, and my old brain got confused and this old body was slow moving through the run off waters. I slipped in the creek, striking my bad shoulder on a boulder, becoming dazed. Oh good I thought-it was my time to pass through the veil. My eyes opened when I saw a bright light and I shouted out "Oh God Help Me"! I then come to and realized it was only the sun coming in to view. It was then, I felt a voice which said "God Only Helps Those Who Help Themselves".  Dam, it wasn't my time and I got cold laying in the water. I got up and recognized that my shoulder hurt like hell, but I would do as my brother did, who survived the front lines of Viet Nam and a few years ago, slipped in American Fork Canyon and tumbled down rocks during a giant spring run-off, and still survived. I thought it was odd he wanted to say he was proud he kept his pole while tumbling over the boulders. But, I did the same thing as Hal Jones did-I checked to see if I still had my pole. I did and got up and decided I should head for home. But wait, I better reel in the line. In doing so, I found the end of the two barbed hook planted deep in my thumb. It wouldn't budge, so decided to go home and make a decision. I sought advise from friends who knew medical stuff. I went across the street to a local cattleman, I helped during calving problems. I decided to pull the hook out myself and like a good neighbor-Travis Garrett said it was my decision, but recommended I brace the thumb against the tractor. As I pulled the hook, he suggested I twist it so the hook barbs could exit. I was going to scream in pain, but he directed my surgery just like John Wayne would do with an arrow in his partner, and it worked. I was going to soak it antiseptic stuff to clean the open wound, but like Viet Nam Medics, you did the best you could with what you had. That is the end of today's story, and if I am alive when the sun rises, I can give thanks I have been granted more time to appreciate the world I live in and the family and friends who give me advice, saving me dollars going to ER, although I greatly respect those folks here in Salt Creek, Utah Territory.

Don Yates of Mona, Utah. This is Part Two with photos. Written story one step back.

I am not a computer guru, so I put the written story of Don Yates first, and didn't have enough space for the photos, so here they be. By the way, I think I left off the complete story about who Don thinks will be the first that would greet him when he crossed through the veil. I thought it would be his wife or his cherished brother Dean, but after some thought, he spoke of Ross Garrett, who was the LDS Stake President at the time Don was selected as the Elders Quorum President of the Nephi Third Ward, even though he lived in Mona. Ross was instrumental in helping Don become a loving and kind leader of men, but in a quite manner.

Don Yates of Mona, Utah was forced to become a man at age 16! Part One.

If you don't know 91 year old Don Yates of Mona, you need to visit him, as his stories  will penetrate your heart. He is of that generation where work ethics were supreme. On his 16th birthday, his father died, and he was forced to man up and take care of the 22 acre farm with his mother. His two older brothers went to war against Nazi Germany. My interview with Don was delightful; thought provoking and bought me as close to tears, even though I have interviewed or interrogated thousands of people including a Nazi soldier. Don dropped out of Juab High School in the 10th grade and ran the farm until he found more pay working the mines of Eureka at age 17. He stated as a Mucker at 1400 feet below then started to feel the bad air, so became a miner, but that too was unhealthy so he quit. He quit but soon found work at Ironton as a train Conductor; Train Engineer at Toole Army Depot, but always like to be at his Mona home with his farm which he built up to 180 acres; beloved wife and daughters-Donnette, Brenda, Melanie, Angela, RaDawna and sons Kerry, Donavan and Gerard. His favorite foods are all America Meat and Potatoes. His favorite political figure was Douglas MacArthur and favorite President was Franklin Roosevelt, and he had good reasons for both. On the third time Don returned to the story about his older brother who was killed as a Tail Gunner of the ten man crew of a B-17, I decided to listen intently. On the day he was shot down, that plane was no longer a "Flying Fortress"! On his 18th mission, his crew went deep in to Germany to hit a ball bearing plant and without fight support. All the B-17's were shot down and all men were killed. His body was in tack and the War Department screwed up a little because of the debris,  different telegraphs were sent to the family that Dean was "seriously injured" then another telegram saying he was "MIA", then the final one after two months was he was killed and buried in France. The Army Air Corps offered to send the body back to Mona, but after discussing it with his mother, who had just buried Dons father, they decided to leave Dean buried "overthere". I then asked if he was a spiritual person, and he said and his facial expression showed he was and went on to explain. He earnestly prayed if it was the right decision to leave his brothers remains stay in France or reburied in Mona. Don was given one of those absolute impressions that his brother whispered "I am Home" and Don was then at peace. Don Yates is one of the best men, husbands, father and friend anybody could ask for. When we spoke of who he thought would be the first to welcome him "Home" his response was slow, but methodical and the first I had heard one of its kind. It would be Ross Garrett, who was the LDS Juab Stake President at the time. Don is one of a kind. Get to know this man, a true nugget of gold.

Some of us think Utah was settled in 1847, but people lived here 12,000 years ago.

My love of history started in the 4th grade when teacher Earl Bowles spoke of his World War Two services. I was smitten with history. I went home and asked my parents if I could save the pioneer papers, journals and clothes that were brought to Nephi from both sides of my family in the 1850's. A few years later, my mother wanted the garage cleaned out, so I took historical things and hid them in World War Two sealed ammunition containers and they remained safe for 50 years and now opening them. History involves a lot of things, and I have been doing historical searches around the world. I became familiar with the people at the Natural History Museum of Utah who invited me to do a "dig" where the Anasazi Indians lived and then disappeared. I later called them "The Ancient Ones" as that was a description for those people. For two weeks, we dug and found evidence they lived there two thousand years ago. When the Antiquities Act changed, our findings had to be locked away for a future generation to examine. I then became familiar with Kevin Jones, who was the Utah Archaeologist at the time and he asked if I would assist at a dig on Antelope Island, as I was already there as a weekend volunteer. We could tell they were Fremont Indians and the bones and material unearthed were where the Indians came over on canoes to hunt. The last photo is my square at a dig at Martins Cove, where a lot of the Handcart pioneers perished. I later met a man named James Jenson, who was nick named "Dinosaur Jim" who became world famous for finding different Dinosaurs and putting them together. After he passed away, his family deeded a lot of his works to me and I then donated most of them to the University of Utah and to the Jim Jenson museum at BYU. I hope this brief introduction to discover the past, and to find the difference between Pictographs and Petroglyphs as they are all through Utah at McConkie Ranch; Parowan Gap; Fremont State Park, and yes right here in Juab County. I have discovered two places near Nephi, and a new one was shown to me a couple weeks ago and is circled in the blue. Even if you are not quarantined- read, study and discover the fun history right around us, but be careful not to touch or disturb. Oil from our hands will ruin them faster than mother nature. There are books written as to what each symbol may mean. We know if you see one with a horse, it had to be made after 1540, as that is when the Spanish Conquistadors invaded the American Continent to rob and ruin the culture and history of the people that were here. Let us protect their history and culture, as it may help us survive our future.

  

God made only one Gary B. Jones, then disposed of the blue print.

It would take several books to write the life and times of Gary B. Jones, originally from Nephi, Utah, but now hides in the vastness of Alaska. He has always been a social guy and hunting and fishing guide, and although not a recluse, he finds inner peace being with his mutts out on the Tundra. With a passion for history, I have been the keeper of family and historical records going back to the 1850's when both sides of my family arrived in Nephi. As I had possession of LDS documents, including items that belonged to Brigham Young, I finally turned those in to Church authorities. It may be a hundred year project, but will continue to sort artifacts and documents that I had hidden a half century ago. A new but old item belongs to my taller and smarter brother, so I called him and got his reluctant permission to publish a speech he gave in 1968, just before leaving on an LDS mission. His teenage message sounds like a modern day Prophet. Many people in the Juab County will remember he was the smart one in the family and won awards in high school and colleges for his character acting in plays. He was taught by goodly parents and as such, served as a Ranger Paratrooper during the Viet Nam Era, and knew how to hide from the enemy, because as a kid, he would often sleep in the barn, hiding under the hay, so it was easy to drop him in an unknown location and survive and thrive on obtaining enemy information. He has hitch hiked to every state in the Union; lived and visited more countries that you can pronounce and a friend to Eskimos who he cherished. Today's history topic will be a repeat of his LDS Missionary farewell in 1968. Even as a kid he had accurate feelings of truth and continues to be a Christian Soldier. At age 19, he could write words, then eloquently deliver a speech. In Alaska, the only real sports is the Iditarod and G.B. Jones is a well respected Musher.

Nortonville, Utah, a stop spot for Brigham Young

Nortonville was and partly remains a township four miles north of Nephi, Utah. It was first settled by three Norton brothers, thus the name. At the time, the entire area was green with subterranean water just below the surface so it was a very fertile and rich soil to do dry farming. Farming has always been hard work and the Norton brothers soon split, selling most of the valley to the Tolley and Jones family. One of the first homes was built by Wm. and Lizzie Tolley Jones. It had two bedrooms; living room and a kitchen. The Outhouse was outside until the land was sold to Bish Belliston who had a fancy dancy "Privy" inside. It the photo from left to right is Elmer Tolley, Suzie Downs, Alma Jones, Bert Jones(on the horse), Jack Downs, Rodger Downs, Liz Jones, Wm. Jones and Elma Bryan. Wm. Jones donated part of his ground so a church/school could be built, and he was the Branch President. One of the teachers was Bessie Jones, who was the mother of Ron, Harold, and Nadine Jones Blackett. Brigham Young stopped by there on his way to St. George and signed various documents. Although all church records should have been turned over to the LDS church, they weren't, but kept in the family until five years ago, when they were recovered from the place I had hid them fifty years ago. They were all turned over to the LDS church, and needless to say, it took a Nephi double step to explain why I had the various signatures, papers and manuscripts that belonged to Brother Brigham. Another photo is the missionary picture of Will Jones, who was called to preach with no money, and after losing two young sons and leaving his wife pregnant. Brigham Young told him to seek out his relatives in England and he did so and we showed a page from his journal. The Tolley family took care of the farm while Will was in the land where his father came to Nephi in 1852. Another photo is of the nine kids brought up in that two bedroom cabin home, and the boys were glad to see summer come as they were able to sleep in the grainery, which still stands. As more people moved in, farmers began to dig deep wells, which explains why the North Pasture Lane is no longer the good farming area as it once was. Blame it on Growth and Greed.