Golden Wedding Anniversary of Arthur Phipp Eborn and Nina Louise Passey

The date was September 5th 1955.   Many years have now passed and much in the world has changed, but I can still remember the family get-together at the Emerson School to celebrate the fiftieth wedding anniversary of our grandparents Arthur Phipp Eborn and Nina Louise Passey Eborn.  It is interesting to note the size of the family and try to put names with the faces.  I can name a lot of them but not all.  It would be great to see a reunion of the entire posterity of these good people to whom we owe so much.  See how many of the faces you can recognize and identify. I'm sure we would not fit on the stage of most any auditorium let alone a small dual purpose gymnasium.  The Emerson School was just across the street from where Grandma and Grandpa lived in Paris, Idaho.  The school is now gone but the old family home is still standing, having been remodeled and added on to several years ago.

Arthur Phipp Eborn and Nina Louise Passey Eborn on their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

Fifty Years earlier on their wedding day.  They were married September 20, 1905, in Lanark, Bear Lake County, Idaho.  They were sealed for time and eternity  in the Logan Utah LDS Temple on October 14, 1908.  At the time they had two children, Harlan and Willard.  Grandpa Arthur had just turned 19 ten days before, and Grandma Nina was eighteen at the time of their wedding.

By Bart

Agnes Laura Phipp Eborn

     Not a lot is known about our great grandmother, Agnes Laura Phipp.   She was born February 27, 1852 in  Ware, Hertfordshire, England.  She was the third child of William Phipp and Emma Thorogood.  There were ten children in the family, three boys and seven girls.  At her birth she had an older bother and an older sister. Five more sisters and two more brothers subsequently were added to the family.  Her older brother died when she was just two years old. Her younger sister, Emily Mary Phipp, married William Nathanial Budge Shepherd in Paris, Idaho on the 22nd of December in 1877.  She had been converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in December of 1876 and had made it somehow to the Bear Lake Valley in Idaho where she married the man who had converted her to the Church the previous year.  About 1890 with the encouragement of her sister, Emily Mary, now living in Paris, Idaho, Agnes Laura emigrated with her husband James William Eborn and their three young children to the United States.  Little is known of their journey but we can assume that they crossed the ocean from England on a steamship and came to Utah by train where they settled temporarily, it was hoped, in Ogden, Utah.  They didn't know anyone there and according to information handed down by Grandpa Arthur Eborn, they found the adjustment to life in America/Utah rather difficult.  Undoubtedly one of the problems when they settled in Utah was that they were not members of the Church and didn't seem to fit in very well.  The couple had three children at the time, Agnes Maud, who was about ten years old, Emily Edith about age eight and Arthur Phipp, who was a child of about four or five.  It is not known when  or if they first made contact with Emily Mary who had now been in America about thirteen years and was living with her family in Paris, Idaho.  We do know that they were eventually able to find a small frame home in which to live.  It was modest and very humble even by the standards of their day, but we can assume they were happy to have a roof over their head.  Life was hard in those days in the towns of the Rocky Mountains.  James William did not have a specific trade and found it hard to find work to support his family, and they felt somewhat out of place in their new environment and community.  Life at this time was even more difficult in England.  Many people had left their home in the English countryside and moved to the larger cities/ London for manufacturing jobs.  This was during of the so-called Industrial Revolution which came early on to England and affected the English way of life dramatically both for the good and for the bad.  There was employment, but the wages were meager and the living conditions were often very bad.  Infant mortality was high in England at this time and many children died while still in infancy or as young children.  The Phipp family was no stranger to these sad events in their lives.  Nonetheless, I can imagine that Agnes Laura missed her family terribly as she was so far away for them and all the familiar faces and places she had know in England.  It can also be assumed that they had left England full of hope for a better life in America, which was considered a land of opportunity.  Except for Emily Mary and Agnes Laura none of the rest of the family ever made it to the United States, nor did they ever return to England, so it was pretty much a complete separation from family when they came to America. 

     In the summer of 1892.  Agnes Laura was  doing the family laundry.  She was heating the water for the wash and was dressed in a full skirt as was the custom of the time.  In the process of checking the water heating on the wood burning stove she apparently got to close to the stove.  Her dress touched the stove and burst into flames.  She ran  screaming  from the small wood frame house and rolled on the ground in attempt to put the fire out, but her efforts were in vain and she died of the burns she sustained in this horrific accident.  This was on July 11, 1892.  She was buried the next day in the Ogden Cemetery in Utah.  This incident changed the lives of  not only her immediate family, her husband and children, but also generations to come.  Her husband and the father of her three children basically fell apart in this strange land where he had difficulty finding work and felt he simply couldn't cope with all of the problems of life that had been thrust upon him.  Eventually he ended up letting his three children go to various foster homes.  This must have been very difficult for him to do, and yet he felt it was for their best good.  The children were separated and had little to do with one another from that time forward, though they did stay in touch from time to time.  What happened after this is the subject for another post.  I will try to add to this as I can and as I remember it being told to me when I was young.

This is the only photo I know of  that exists of Agnes Laura Phipp Eborn, our great grandmother.

We should all be grateful for our heritage and give thanks for the sacrifices our ancestors were willing to make.  I firmly believe that the day will come when we will see this good woman again, and pray that we will all be a cause for her to rejoice and know that all of her sacrifices were worth the terrible price she paid for us.

Huckleberry Time

"Now many of those I loved and did not understand in my youth are dead. But I still reach out to them. Of course, now I’m too old to be much of a hiker. And now I usually go into the mountians alone, even though some friends think I shouldn’t. But when I am alone in the half-light of the canyon, all existence seems to fade to a being of my soul and memories, and the sounds of the wind in the pines and the call of distant birds. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a mountain is in it. The Mountain was left by the world’s great flood, and shelters bushes from the basement of time. On some of the bushes are timeless huckleberries. On some the berries are the words, and some of the words are theirs."

"I am haunted by huckleberries."

Pardon the River Runs Though It musings, but as I was in Emigration Canyon as evening approached one night this past week picking huckleberries I was reminded of the now famous lines at the end of the novel by Norman MacLean and couldn't help but reflect on the good times and the memories I had in days gone by with my parents and family picking huckleberries in the mountains. The berries were wonderful, but the memories of those days linger much longer and I cherish the times and the stories told of picking huckleberries in the mountains.

My brother, Reed, called the other morning and said: "Let's go pick huckleberries." My reply was: "I'll pick you up in an hour." We went together on Thursday and then again on Saturday. Each time we got at least two gallons each. That isn't bad for a couple of oldies with arthritic hands etc. At least for me. We enjoyed our time together and especially the chance to have some good discussions about the things that matter most in our lives.

Here we are after about eight hours on the mountain with the fruit of our labors.

Ironman Jared

I always knew Jared was a finisher, but it never entered my head that he'd try something like this,  The Vineman Triathlon in Santa Rosa, California.  He did this last Saturday, July 30, 2011. A full Iron Man triathlon.  If you don't know, that is a 2.4 mile swim for starters, then a 112 mile bike ride, and then a full marathon run of 26.2 miles to top off the day.  These are the official results posted on the World Wide Web for anyone interested in it.  Personally, I think it is a huge accomplishment.  And remember, he's not twenty-one years old any more.  In fact he's exactly twice that.  Pretty impressive.
Now, we'll hope he makes it home safely.

This is a wikipedia entry about the Ironman for anyone who wants to know.

An Ironman Triathlon is one of a series of long-distance triathlon races organized by the World Triathlon Corporation (WTC) consisting of a 2.4-mile (3.86 km) swim, a 112-mile (180.25 km) bike and a marathon (26.2 miles 42.195 km) run, raced in that order and without a break. Most Ironman events have a strict time limit of 17 hours to complete the race, where the Ironman race starts at 7 AM, the mandatory swim cut off for the 2.4 mile swim is 2 hours 20 minutes, the bike cut off time is 5:30 PM, and all finishers must complete their marathon by midnight.
The name "Ironman Triathlon" refers to both the original Ironman triathlon and the annual Ironman World Championship. Also called Ironman Hawaii, the world championships of the event, held annually in Hawaii since 1978 (with an additional race in 1982), are now preceded by a series of qualifying events. Ironman Triathlon became known for its grueling length, harsh race conditions, and television coverage.

Vineman Triathlon Vineman July 30, 2011 in Santa Rosa, CA

Summary Number of Finishers: 821 Number of Females: 216 Number of Males: 585 Average Time: 13:13:46

Jared Eborn

bib number:	468
age:	42
gender:	M
location:	Murray, UT
division place:	54 out of 119
gender place:	304 out of 574
time:	13:07:57
pace:	0:
swim:	1:08:22
t1:	6:27
bike:	6:01:36
t2:	9:33
run13mi:	1:49:52
run:	5:41:59 by Bart

A Part of our Heritage, The Paris Tabernacle

A Part of our Heritage, The Paris Tabernacle

As we were driving through Paris, Idaho yesterday I couldn't resist stopping and taking a couple of quick pictures. The Paris Tabernacle has always had a special place in my heart. I remember Dad telling me that it was there after a conference that he first saw Mom. They were both fourteen years old. He said that from that moment on he knew that she was the girl he would one day want to marry. I also remember the Stake Conference meetings we attended there as I was growing up. I remember listening to some of the Apostles and even President David O. McKay in that building. I remember my Seminary graduation and that we had a special speaker, A. Theodore Tuttle, who came to our little graduation ceremony (there were only about thirty of us in that graduating class) and addressed us. He went on to be one of the leaders of the Church and a General Authority for many years. It was there that I graduated from Fielding High School in 1958. I remember going to special patriotic programs that were held in the Tabernacle each year in celebration of Independence Day on the Fourth of July. I remember being involved in special dramatic production when I was the Stake Young Men's President in the Paris Idaho Stake. It was called RX, Take Thou the Following. I'm not sure where that title came from, but it had a special spiritual meaning and turned out to be a great success. Iris and I even attended an Original Opera written by one of the Call brothers from Star Valley that had its premier performance in the Paris Tabernacle. Of course, an improvised stage was created for these productions. I'm sure it was not world class, but it was a definite treat for Bear Lakers and others who filled the Tabernacle. I'm sure many of the rest of our family have special memories of this place in their lives as well.

The exterior of the building ins imposing in its own right but the interior is a genuine work of art as you can see in the photo below.

Much of the lumber for the construction of this building came from my Grandfather Price's mills in Paris. You can still see some of the remains of one of the mills at the mouth of Paris Canyon. He also owned a shingle mill, and I'm sure the meticulously cut four inch shingles were a product of his mill. Each time I enter this building I am awestruck by the workmanship of these hardy pioneers of the Bear Lake Valley. Others of our pioneer Bear Lake ancestors undoubtedly spent many, many hours helping to complete this building which was finished in dedicated by President Wilfred Woodruff in September of 1889. During the construction of this building which was built entirely by donated labor and money, many of the saints in the area were still living in humble cabins, some of which still had dirt floors. It is a testament to the faith they had in God and their religion, and in their desire to worship and honor Him. I am glad to have descended from such pioneer stock.

Above is a tea pot and creamer that was owned by our grandfather, Arthur Eborn. He inherited it from his own grandparents according to the card in a display case located in the foyer of the Tabernacle along with relics from other pioneer families of the area.

Deer Hunting Recollections

My favorite part of the harvest was the deer hunt. As a teen-ager I looked forward to it more than Christmas or anything else. I got my first hunting license when I was 12 and bought my first 30-30 lever action rifle from money earned from working in the hay fields East of Paris that summer. It was actually a pretty good job. I drove a white army jeep pulling a rake behind. All my friends thought I was pretty lucky and I guess I was. Even though I was only 12 I had several years on tractors and other equipment and was able to do a good job for my first employer.

Back to the local deer hunt. It was a community affair. I especially remember trucks going through the community and picking up everyone that wanted to go. Usually that occured on Saturday. Once in the area of possible deer locations drives would be organized and shooters would be placed in strategic spots. Most of these days resulted in successful hunts. It was also fun sitting around the camp fires in between drives and listening to the stories that were told and eating food brought from home. As I look back on it it still remains as some of the most memorable times of my life.

At this point in my life I don't believe I could shoot a deer but in those days deer meat was food for winter. The deer was cut into quarters or as needed and hung on the outside of the house where it remained frozen all winter and was used as need. Later we dug out the basement and had a large freezer placed in it which eliminated the need for hanging the deer meet out side.

I found out that the older and wiser adults on the deer hunts always figured out how to get the younger members of the hunt to do the driving and they would do the shooting, Oh well still fun. Dad was an excellent hunter a very good shot and always took care of me. My last hunt with him was on a leave from my Air Force duties. He picked out a place where he knew the deer would run out if they were in a grove of trees. He went above the grove of trees and started yelling and throwing rocks. Shortly the deer came bounding out of the grove. I stood up and started shooting. Three ran out and three were taken home. We had the tags for all three but I don,t know where they came from. I remember Dad saying "it's a good thing that a dozen didn't run out." He was fun to go hunting with but he could out walk me any day. I miss those occasions with him.

I just had a thought that I may have already told this storey --If so I'm sorry, but it kind of goes with the territory these days.

by Ellis

The Mysterious Pea Pods

About a week ago I planted a small garden out at Alison and Ammon's place.  I must be getting old or maybe there is some other message waiting for me that I have not yet learned.  It seems like these day the slightest and seemingly insignificant activity cause a flood of memories to come over me and I find myself reflecting on things in my past and in my future much more deeply than I did in younger years.  As I planted the garden I couldn't help but think of the many gardens I helped plant as a young lad in Lanark.  We had a rather large garden, I'm guessing maybe about a quarter of an acre.  That may not seem very large, but when it is a planted and cared for by the sweat of the brow, it sometimes seemed immense, at least to me.  Gardening in in the Bear Lake Valley is always a risky venture, but it was even more so back in the so-called good old days.  We were always concerned about frosts that might wipe out the garden unexpectedly anytime up until July.  It has been said that there are only two seasons in Bear Lake, Winter and the Fourth of July.  That may be stretching it a little, but I'm sure you get the point.  Winters are long and summers are short.  This played a major role in helping us make a selection of seeds to plant.  We always planted, peas, carrots, and potatoes.  These were not planted just for a taste of fresh vegetables as they began to mature during the summer, but were rather intended to be canned/bottled and preserved for use by the family during the long winters.  It was for that reason that the garden was rather large.  I especially loved the fresh peas right out of the pod.  Often I would go tot the garden when no one was around and help myself to these tasty, little, green peas.  Sometimes I would go out and do it before they were ready to be picked, or probably the main concern here was that the peas filled more bottles when they were mature.  One day mother caught me in the garden feasting on the young peas.  She came over to where I was and gently, but firmly impressed upon my mind, that I shouldn't pick the peas.  Several days later, she was in the garden pea patch again and she noticed a very strange phenomenon.  Many of the pea pods were hanging on the vine but mysteriously the peas had all been stripped from them and they were hanging there empty.  It didn't take a very long investigation to realize that I had been strictly obedient to her admonition of a few days earlier not to pick the peas.  Yes, I was the culprit and was given more explicit instructions for the future. I have often thought about this experience as I have gone through life, being admonished from time to time by others who have been in a position to give me guidance.  Since then I have tried to follow the spirit of the law as well as the letter of the law without trying to find excuses or rationalizing to suit my own fancy.  It seems like such a little thing, but in reality a very important lesson for life.

       Of course we grew other things as well, radishes, turnips, Swiss chard, and a few other hardy vegetables, but in the short summer month around Lanark, Idaho such staples as corn, beans,  tomatoes,and squash were considered to be too risky for the most part.  The killing frosts often came before the summer months were past and we learned to live with this inconvenience and take advantage of the things we knew would generally do well in our area.

       I remember Dad and Mom tried several different garden sites, mostly in an attempt to find a place not quite so prone to early and late frosts as we were on the little knoll where our home was located.  One was up on the hill next to the canal on the Lyme Hymas farm which we rented for many years while most of us were growing up.  This spot had the added advantage of being very close to the canal where irrigation water could be easily obtained.  I remember mother packing a lunch and hiking up the hill where she would stay most of the day tending the garden.  It was hard work, but she seemed to like the solitude and the chance to be outdoors in nature doing something useful.  I never heard her complain about this task and even recall being there on the hill with her and singing some of the songs we had learned earlier in Primary.  These are fond memories for me now.

      All of this caring and working with the garden led to even more work when it came time to harvest and can the produce.  How well I remember the bushel baskets full of peas ready for shelling and the carrots needing a good wash.  More importantly, I now reflect upon the love with which the labor was performed, that we might have food on the table and not have to go hungry.  I'm sure I didn't appreciate it as much as I should have then, but now as I reflect on those times and all that work, I am more aware of the sacrifice our parents made to provide for us and gratitude wells up in my own soul as I plant a few seeds of my own and give thanks for the bounties that were provided then and now.

By Bart