
Today and especially yesterday have been sunny days. Went for a walk in my short pants. Felt the sun on my face. All good things.
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Bringing together meaning from the "relationships and connections" established with the people in our lives. Understanding our own identity. Seeing the impact of not just people but thoughts and books. Seeking for the intellectual insight and understanding of why our life story came to be.
Looking back over this week I again think of some of the things I have read as much as the things I have done. I have been reading about a number of the Apostles and leaders in our Church and likewise about some of the authors that have stood out over the years. Two authors, B.H.Roberts and Hugh Nibley both caught my attention this week. Roberts was discussing the idea in a book I was reading that was taken from the scriptures that "there must be an opposition in all things" as really something that is a blessing. Of course that opposition is often between good and evil but it is also a little basic to everything. That opposition helps us learn. Pleasure and Pain are in opposition and both can serve good ends as well as not so good ends. We learn from opposition. All of it isn't about good and evil of course. Opposition exists "in all things" is the point.
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Then Nibley in a book was discussing "Contention". His point was that contention is not a good thing. People get mad at each other over points of view and differences (opposition) and then it ends in "contention". His point was that we should listen to others points of view without a spirit of contention.
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It seems to me that the goal to avoid contention is often in opposition to the reality that there is opposition in all things. Galatians got it right in it's definition of Gentleness.
Ancestors are interesting. Two parents, and 4 grandparents mean you come from at least 4 locations, or lines. Both of my Grandparents on one side come from Wales. Llanllwni, to be specific. Course that town is just for one of them. That is my cousin Bob standing by the sign a few years ago.
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Today I had some time on my hands, which is rare on Sunday's, so I was looking through some old correspondence and sent off a few notes to folks I had not connected with in a long time. Passed on some pictures too. I cam across a story about Malad Idaho so just for the blog of it, here it is.
William Cole (aka known as Billy The Kid) rode into Malad in the spring of 1869. He was wounded and suffering from severe wounds. He fell in love with a widow lady with four kids and married her. Her name was Susan Palmer Debuke. They built a cabin in the St John area. The cabin still stands on Tom Palmer property. They had one child after being married for a year, but he suddenly up and left town without warning. The little girl child and her mother left Malad and joined her parents in Peru Nebraska where she died in 1924. Jesse left a poem for his wife titled: GRASSHOPPERS AND CRICKETS:
Things look desperate and awfully sad.
For we are just about to bury the city of Malad..
Their long melancholy faces with their sad frowns
To see the last shovel full thrown on the town,
Their will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth
If the revolation fails to give them relief.
Oh! what a burying it would be,
It would break many a heart
When boys from their true lovers will have to depart.
They will wander througth the valley among sage brush and thickets,
To leave old Malad to the grasshoippers and crickets
They must throw aside lieing with others deceit,
for the devil make take them all in a heap.
Remember old Malad has drawn its last breath
And all we can do is announce its great death.
For the devil has charmed them by some unknown spell
For the first thing we know we are all heaped up in hell.
If the people don't try to make some resistance
I will bid farewell and disappear in the distance.
I will hoist my sails and hoist my banner
And bid farewell to my own dear Anne.
For I think for our move we are the devils relations
And he can't help us by his revelation
And all we can do is to buy our traveling ticket
And leave old Malad to the Grasshoppers and crickets.
William Cole Year 1870
(original spelling and words in the poem)