Paisley and Palmyra

James Houston, Sr. (1817-1864)

My third great grandfather

me-->Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan-->Alice Houston Rasmussen-->John Cooper Houston-->James Houston, Jr.-->James Houston, Sr.

At the turn of the 19th century, a young man was born into a large family.   At the age of 14, he began to reflect on what was the true way to be saved.  He noticed that many of the great religious men in his community couldn't agree on the subject.

One day he was listening to a religious leader speak on the subject "What To Do To Be Saved."  He felt a strong desire to be with all the good people gathered together in heaven.  He still felt, however, that he didn't know what the true answer was.

He decided to pray to the Lord.  He wanted to know what was the true religion.  The Lord heard this young man's prayers and gave him an answer.  He said that he would be shown the right way.

Does this story sound familiar?

Joseph Smith at 14

Actually, I'm talking about someone else.  My third great grandfather, James Houston, Sr.

He said he was too busy to get his picture taken, so this is the best I could find.

Just like Joseph Smith, when he was 14, he had questions about religion.  But he wasn't living in Palmyra, New York, he was living in Paisley, Scotland.  Which is pretty far away.

Paisley, Renfrewshire, Scotland and Palmyra, New York

Also, when James was 14, Joseph Smith was 26 years old.  By this time Joseph had translated the Book of Mormon, organized the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and was gathering the Saints in Ohio. 

Meanwhile, over in Scotland, James was working for his brother John who died at the age of 28.  After he died, he came to James in a dream.  In this dream they talked and asked each other questions.  Shortly after that some Mormon missionaries arrived in Paisley.  James wasn't able to hear the missionaries, but he heard about them.  In 1840, he decided to sail to America to learn more.

His nine-week journey was a pleasant one and he enjoyed traveling with a small group of Saints.  He believed the Gospel was true, but thought he wasn't good enough to get baptized.  They landed in New Orleans and he was invited to stay with Brother Millner. (As best as I can tell, it was somewhere in Iowa.) In 1841, he decided to get baptized.

In the spring of that year, he met Lyman Wight.  Lyman knew Joseph Smith very well.  They had been in Liberty Jail together.  Lyman had been asked in January to begin building what was to be called the Nauvoo House, a place for weary travelers.  He needed someone to help him drive some cattle to Nauvoo to help build the House and the Temple.  James volunteered.

On April 30, 1841, he arrived in the "City of Saints", Nauvoo, Illinois.  He was now a long way away from Paisley, Scotland, but close to the Prophet Joseph Smith.  Very close, in fact, they were next door neighbors for nine months.

Joseph Smith's home from 1839-1843

This is what he said about Joseph Smith.

"I can assure you that the Prophet was all he professed to be.  I know he was a true Prophet of God for I have heard him speak and prophesy as he was lead by the Holy Ghost.  He was a fine and a great man."  

  

How I Almost Became Mitt Romney's Cousin

John Cooper Houston (1876-1960)

My Great Grandfather

me --> Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan --> Alice Houston Rasmussen --> John Cooper Houston 

I was reading John Houston's journal and discovered that I almost was Mitt Romney's cousin.  Yes, that Mitt Romney.

Here's how.

When John Houston finished his mission, he had been working along the Rio Grande in New Mexico, near El Paso, Texas.  A land I know very well.  He left behind his mule and the "Gospel Cart" and went to Salt Lake City.

Do you think it was like a taco cart, only it sold Book of Mormons?

On his way home he stopped in Salt Lake City to report at the President's office.  President Joseph F. Smith said, "Brother John, I have one request to make of you; go home and get married."

And he did.  He proposed to Eliza Adelaide Asay after a New Year's Eve "End of the Century Party" on Jan. 1, 1901 as the sun was beginning to rise.   

Her grandmothers Sarah and Eliza both came across the plains to join the Mormons in Utah.

Nine months and six days after they married, they had their first child, Lucy Ora.  John was a school teacher at the time and they all wanted to see "the teacher's baby" so they filed in, one by one, past the bed.  One boy said to another outside the bedroom, "My ain't she ugly, she looks just like the teacher!"

John decided it was now time for him to find a place for his family and settle down.  He narrowed his choices down to two.  One of his choices was to go to Mexico where several Mormons had settled.

I could see why he considered this choice.  It was close to where he had served his mission.

He also considered another location in the Big Horn Basin in Wyoming.

This choice also made sense.  Addie's mother wanted to move here because she already had two sons living there and wanted her other three sons to live there too.

John couldn't decide which direction to go, north or south.  

He went to his father for advice.  His father said that he should stay in the United States.  So they chose Wyoming.

If they had picked Mexico, they would have met this guy

and his son.

Mitt Romney's grandfather

    

If they had, then 11 years later they would have been driven out and taken refuge in El Paso.  

Maybe some of the Houston kids would have married some of the Romney kids.  Which means Mitt Romney would have been a cousin.

Instead, I just married someone who sort of looks like him.

A Series of Tragic Happenings

John Cooper Houston (1876-1960)

My Great Grandfather

me --> Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan --> Alice Houston Rasmussen --> John Cooper Houston 

Recently my brother asked me a question about our heritage and added, "I like to believe that I'm able to overcome adversity."  Immediately this story came to my mind.

I'm going to type John's words from his journal because no way could I do the story justice.  Anything in brackets [ ] are my thoughts and notes.

"Valentine's Day 1910 Began A Series of Tragic Happenings

"Sunday, February 13, Victor S. Showalter was confirmed a member of the church and the baby Philip was blessed... The events of that day made my cousin, Dicy De Long Showalter very happy.  That evening at our home she was heard to remark that 'my joy is now complete.'

"Valentine's Day fell on Monday and that morning before daylight, someone on horseback called from the street, 'fire, fire!' We looked out and three miles to the west we saw the sky lighted up and a blaze of fire leaping skyward.

"The Showalter home was on fire and the wife, Dicy and three children burned to their deaths.  The three children victims were Bobby, Helen, and the baby, Philip (this was just one half their family as they had three children who survived, Paul, Beth, and Dee).

"Soon the story came to us as to how it happened.  It seems that Dicy got up at 5:00 a.m. to make a fire and she picked up a five-gallon can of kerosene and raised it up to pour it into a heating stove in which were hidden coals of fire.  In the resulting explosion, oil and fire were thrown all over her body and her clothes immediately were aflame with fire.

"Her husband, Victor grabbed a quilt and went to her rescue but by then the house was filled with gas and flame.  He was badly burned and rushed out to find Bert Allred, a neighbor who was already there trying to rescue the children who were asleep in an adjacent boarded up tent.  

"While the three children in the tent were saved, the three smaller children in the house were lost in the fire.  The babies were smothered and their bodies, only slightly burned were covered by the falling roof.  Dicy's body was burned to ashes except for a hand and foot.  The remains of all the victims were buried in one grave in the cemetery.

"The three surviving children of the Showlaters', namely Beth, Paul, and Dee stayed with us for the remainder of that winter.

"Our daughter, Ruth [my mom's namesake] had scarlet fever at this time from which diptheria developed six weeks later.  Because the usual rash never broke out, we thought she was well and she started back to school.

"One day in early April while she was coming home from Sunday School she (Ruth) took suddenly sick.  We called the local doctor in on Thursday night and the next morning she died (April 20).  Just as the school bell was ringing on Thursday, the last day of school she said, "...the last bell."  She was buried on her birthday, April 21, 1910.  [She would have been seven years old.]

"A day or so later I was up in the loft platting a city park and Cooper (five years of age) was there with me.  After awhile I looked up and found him asleep.  He awakened sick.  We told the doctor that maybe he had better get other medical help to assist him, but he insisted that he could handle it.  So we trusted.  While they sent away for antitoxin it was not given right or in the right quantities.  He died on April 26, at 2:00 a.m.

"Now it was evident that it was an epidemic and people were frightened.  Vera [another daughter] was lying between life and death.  For fear of the contagious disease a public funeral was out of the question, so with Uncle Al's help we took Cooper in his little casket on our laps in the one seated buggy and drove alone to the cemetery.  At the graveside Addie [John's wife] and I , Uncle Al and Eleazer Asay alone laid the precious little fellow away.  Just six days earlier he had laid flowers on little Ruth's grave." 

Later that year John remodeled their home, bought a 20-acre farm, changed jobs with a long commute, and welcomed their newborn son to the family.  

So to answer my brother.  Believe you are able to overcome adversity--it's in your blood.

Ain't Nothing Going to Break My Stride

Sally Penn Barton (1800-1882)

my fifth great grandmother

me-->Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan-->Arthur Price Rasmussen-->Mary Jane Olsen Rasmussen-->Sally Ann Barton Olsen-->Stephen Smith Barton-->Sally Penn Barton

Sally Penn Barton was tough.  Maybe not Chuck-Norris tough, but tough enough.

Sally Penn Barton

She was living in Lebanon, Illinois when she learned about the Mormons.  She was so determined to meet Joseph Smith, she rode on horseback to Nauvoo just to meet him.

That's 3 hours and 42 minutes by car, according to the all-knowing Google.  I don't even want to think how far that would be on horseback.

When Sally was 46 years old, her husband died. This was also when the Mormons were riddled with persecution and trying to flee to the Rocky Mountains.  Four of her children had died,  three of her children were adults, and three sons were still under her care.  She was finally able to make it Iowa where the Saints had settled to escape persecution and build up supplies to make the trek west.

Her two grown daughters found out about polygamy and said that they would not be "seconds" to any man.  One of her daughters stayed in Iowa, the other went back home to Illinois.  She was left with her three sons, Joseph, 21, and Stephen, 13, and Samuel, 11.

All three of her sons practiced polygamy, which included serving jail time.

As Sally grew older, she found it harder to walk and had to use a cane.  Her eyesight was also gone, but she continued to knit.  She may have old, she may have been frail (5'7" and 125 lbs.) but nothing was going to bring her down.  Not even a steer.

What's the difference between a steer and a bull?  Let's just say a bull can breed and a steer can't.
No wonder steers are angry.

Sally was visiting her son, Stephen, who was fattening a steer for beef.  The steer got out of the corral.  This steer saw Sally out in the yard and charged after her.  She had nothing but a cane to defend herself. The steer kept snorting over her and bunting her around, and she kept attacking him with her cane.  She tried to make it towards the house.  Eventually, she fell over backwards and others heard the commotion and came to her rescue.

Now when I hear that song Matthew Wilder, I think of her.

Nobody's going to slow Sally down, not even a steer.

Sleeping Under the Stars

Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan

My mother and me

me --> Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan

Even though I grew up with a family who loves the outdoors, for some reason it just didn't quite stick with me.  My idea of camping is a hotel room that doesn't have cable, or their continental breakfast doesn't include make-your-own Belgian waffles.

Not to say that I don't camp.

Backpacking through the Rocky Mountains

I'd just rather be doing other things.

like enjoying a cup of herbal tea at my favorite breakfast spot in  Manhattan, New York

or eating crepes in Paris, France on my 40th birthday

or waiting to be served lunch in Yokohama, Japan.

Apparently by "other things" I mean "eat food."

I don't consider myself a wimp.  I'm willing to work hard.

Reading to orphans in Haiti

It's just that I like to relax at the end of the day.

Resting by the Caribbean Sea the day after the picture above.

There I am again with food in my hands.

Yesterday I was chatting with my mom on the phone and I found out why I might enjoy the outdoors, just not camping.

She told me that when she was little, she would sleep in her backyard under the stars... IN A BED!

What?  You slept outside on a mattress?

Yes, on an iron bed, with white sheets and blankets.    It was just like going to bed, except you went to bed under the stars.

Did you do this often?

Oh yes, we had great summers in the backyard, we were always out there.  We lived out there.  We played night games with the neighbor girls and then Mom would make up the bed and we climbed in and fell asleep.

What size bed was it?

I think it was a twin.

How many of you were there?

I don't know, me, my sister, and a neighbor or two, usually three of us. We would lay on the bed and look at the stars and point out the constellations.  Do kids even do that anymore?

No, I don't think they do.  But now I know what tradition I want to start when I have grandkids.  They can fall asleep after playing Colored Eggs.  Who knows?  I may even join them!

Ruth vs. The Boy Scout Ranch

Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan

My mother

me --> Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan

I was born in Bozeman, Montana.

The reason why I was born in Bozeman, Montana, is because my father was earning his PhD at Montana State University.

My parents were newly married.  I was born in July of 1969.  When I was born, my parents were living in what was then a brand new apartment complex.

When I was about 7 months old, they then decided to save on rent and move 15 miles out of town.  Their new rent was only $50 a month.  The reason why it was so low was because they watched over a Boy Scout ranch across the street.

For those of you who know my Dad.  This was heaven.  They lived up a canyon and could see deer every day.

A few weeks later, Mom started to feel sick.  The last time she felt this sick, she had me nine months later.  That's right she was expecting again.  Obviously having two babies in less than 18 months while Dad was in graduate school, wasn't part of the plan, but that was what it was.

Mom is now living in basic isolation, with a baby and morning sickness.  Their phone was a party line and rarely free so she couldn't even phone her friends.  Dad was gone long hours as a student.  Whenever Mom needed to drive into town to go to the store or see the doctor, she had to drive the first few miles on a gravel road.

For those of you who have struggled with morning sickness, imagine bumping along a gravel road with nausea.  Mom would have to pull over while driving to throw up.

After three months, Mom cried Uncle and they moved back into Bozeman.

 She ended up having morning sickness all day and night for the entire nine months.  She told me, "I guess I wouldn't have made a very good pioneer."

Well Mom, you lasted 2 months and 29 days longer than I would have!

Alice vs. The Electric Typewriter

Actual typewriter my grandmother used before she died

Alice Houston Rasmussen (1913-2001)

My grandmother

me --> Ruth Rasmussen Buchanan --> Alice Houston Rasmussen

The other day I was teaching some undergrad students about email etiquette.  We discussed how Cc works.  I asked them what Cc stood for.

These students knew the Cc meant "carbon copy" but they didn't know why we use that term.  So I got to tell them a pioneer story.

When I was in ninth grade, I took a typing class.  Our class was the last group of students to learn how to type on manual typewriters.  They replaced them the following year.  Our typewriters didn't have letters on the keys so that we would learn to type by touch.

Our typewriters looked something like this.

Imagine black keys with no letters on it.

Something you might not know about manual typewriters is that you have to hit each key with enough force to cause the lever to pop up in order to transfer the ink from the ribbon to the paper.  If you hit the keys too quickly, they can get tangled.

If you hit them too slowly, you don't get the job.

If someone wanted to type the same letter to different people, they could layer papers with a piece of carbon paper.

Don't let the quaint packaging fool you, this stuff was messy and awful.

You could usually type up to four or five copies of a letter at once.  The original was on top, all the other papers were behind each layer of carbon paper.  The force of the key would transfer the carbon onto each paper.

Did you know that carbon paper is reusable?  

One recipient received the top layer (the original) and all other recipients received the carbon copy of the letter.  Now that you know what Cc means, let's begin our story.

When my grandmother was a little girl, she got really sick and when she recovered, her hands would shake.  She didn't let shaky hands stop her from getting an education, teaching school, raising four children, and of course making wonderful bread.  In fact she did more with her shaky hands than I could ever hope to do with my steady ones.

One thing she didn't like to do because of her hands, was write letters.  So she typed them.

I wish I had saved everyone one of those letters from her, but fortunately I saved quite a few.

Actual letters from my grandmother

 I was looking through them the other day and found something that reminded me of a memory I have of Alice.

"I probably told you but once I tried using a new fangled typewriter but gave up in despair.  What a machine but it turned out it was too much for a 82 year old like me.  And I really hate to admit that.  My descendants will have to be glad that I took the one-term class in typing at the BYU away back [sic].  That is if they want to receive correspondence from an ancient forebearer like me."

Here's what happened.

My mother saw the old typewriter that Alice was using and decided to buy her a brand new electric typewriter.

She got her a Smith Corona electric typewriter.

At first Grandma was thrilled with her new present.  I remember her showing me her new typewriter with excitement.

But there was a problem.  She would hit the keys with the same force as she had her manual typewriter.  But electric typewriters don't work the same way.

Instead of levers, electric typewriters have something called a typeball or a daisy wheel.

see how the keys can't get tangled any more?

 This invention was great because it allowed people to type much more quickly.  You didn't have to press the keys very hard and your fingers could fly across the keyboard.

But here's the problem.  Grandma's hands were shaky.  When she would press the letter "D", her finger would shake and before she could move onto the next letter, she would find

dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd

had been typed across the page.

By the way, did you know you can adjust the setting on your keyboards to determine how sensitive you want it to be?  Just go to your control panel and to your keyboard properties.

Sadly, this feature wasn't available for my grandmother.  So she regretfully gave the electric typewriter back to my mom.

I still remember when she gave the typewriter back.  I had no idea it was because of her shaky hands.  I thought it was because she just didn't like new technology and wanted to stick to her old ways.  As a cocky college undergraduate student, I was not impressed.  I remember thinking to myself, "No matter how old I get, I'll always be willing to switch to the latest technology.  I'm not going to get stuck in MY ways!"

I'd love to have my old phone back.