Spanish Fork Sunday

 Sunday afternoon we visited Braeden and Anna briefly and Adam gave Emma and Braeden priesthood blessings before their first days of their (senior year!) beginning of classes.

Then we went to Spanish Fork.

I grew up 1) visiting cemeteries in the Salt Lake Valley where my departed ancestors were buried and 2) hearing faith promoting stories of my noble and great ancestors.  (At least they all seemed noble and great to me.)

When Adam and I did our How Many Pioneer Ancestors Do I Have research, I read about Moses Trader Shepherd and his wife Eliza and it was quite a colorful story.  Eliza refused to join the church or move West so Moses went without her.  He married a new wife named Martha then left her in Council Bluffs, Iowa and went back for Eliza.  While he was retrieving Eliza (who agreed to come but did she know about Martha?!?), Martha died in childbirth.

So there's that problem solved.

Moses Trader and Eliza had a one year old son, Aaron, who turned out to 1) be my ancestor and 2) be a lying cad.

Moses Trader and Eliza and Aaron are buried in Spanish Fork (with his wife who is not related to me--she was, however, the wife he was married to at the time of being a cad).

I wanted to see their graves.

They seemed like...interesting...people.

We went to the cemetery and it was a lot bigger than I thought it would be.  (I don't know what I was thinking--a cemetery with only Shepherds buried there?)

Mark and I started canvasing the cemetery and Emma and Adam got on their phones and found the graves on Find a Grave and Adam looked at a map of the cemetery on the cemetery's website.

I thought it was creepy that there were wind chimes hanging near some of the headstones because it reminded me of how they used to tie dead peoples' fingers to bells when they buried them so they could ring them if they weren't really dead.  They tinkled in the breeze and I wondered if someone wasn't dead and wanted out.

You can guess who found the graves first.  He came and picked us up from the other side of the cemetery though and took us back to the right spot.

(My great great grandmother Sylvia is not listed among his children.)

Still.  His blood is in my veins and maybe he turned out to be a nice guy after all.

After the cemetery we went to the Spanish Fork City Park for a picnic.  There were an astounding amount of garbage cans in the park.  Emma and I counted 23 in view from where we were sitting but then there were more on the other side.

Also there was a woman with a yapping dog who offered to give us said yapping dog in a raspy smoker's voice and she reminded me of the witch in Hansel and Gretel.  I was expecting a gingerbread house right around the corner.

Adam and Mark, in total disregard to social distancing and the you know, the pandemic, tried to spit grapes into each others' mouths (luckily they were unsuccessful) and Adam almost made me die a choking death while I was eating grapes and he was making me laugh.

He's been doing that ever since we were freshmen at BYU eating in the Cannon Center cafeteria.

We talked about where in Europe we would like to go and Mark and Emma regaled us with stories from the Hale Center Theater in Orem.  Some people go to great lengths and expend a lot of energy showing their displeasure.  That is all.

I love Sundays and tiny adventures and almost dying in a park in Spanish Fork from laughing too much.