Eat, Pray, and Love

My old friend Ann Merkley came to St. George to help her daughter after the birth of her baby.  I was able to spend some quality time with her including going to a Julie Robert"s movie called Eat, Pray, and Love.  It is adapted from a book by the same title.  I had not read the book, but had seen an interview with the author telling of her personal experience chronicled in her tell all book.  The book has started a world-wide phenomena of "Eat, Pray, and Love" woman's groups supporting one another in the quest to find inner peace.  I am sure that the book has a lot more detail and explanation, but even though I did enjoy the movie,  it left me questioning.  The movie started off with the main character knowing she had to divorce her faithful  husband of eight years (who loved her deeply) after praying due to feeling unfulfilled, then feeling a need to discover inner peace ran off to  first, Italy, next India, then to find a Bali Guru (without any teeth).  As I lay in bed that night, I thought of my inner peace.  Sometimes I too feel empty in the peace department and need to be filled back up again.   I do not have to divorce Walt and go to the other side of the world to find wisdom.  If I am lacking peace, I can pray, read the scriptures,  and there it usually is.  If I need to find a special place, I can grab my temple bag and spend a few hours in the most scared sanctuary in the world, the temple.  Instead of divorcing my husband and running to find inner peace, I come home from the temple renewed, committed to being a better person, and that improves my marriage and my family.  After a few hours at the temple, things that seemed so lacking in others to make me happy are now trivial.  After the temple I am made fully aware that when I am pointing my finger at someone else to provide me with happiness, I notice there are three fingers pointing back at me!   I was sharing all these thoughts with Ann while we were waiting for church to start and she said, "Yeah, and we don't have to scrub the floors of the temple when we get there."  This was one of the things that was required of Julia in one of her "sanctuaries".  Ann and I had a good laugh over that.  All I can say is thank you Father for the Gospel in my life.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

Arlene Park Arnold/ Money Mindset

Copied from email received from Steven Arnold (oldest son):
Our mother had the great trial in life of having to pay bills without enough money to pay them. In hindsight she was a saint.   Not once did I ever ask our parents for money once we moved to the farm. (in town I used to ask for a dime once in a while to go swimming in the public pool). On the farm I had my own little milk check from my own little cow that gave a little milk. She was a Jersey. The little milk check was the pay I got for working on the farm. Also, I sometimes earned other money working for other farmers. I never asked for money from our parents. I remember when I returned from my mission I worked on the farm while I took a few classes at Ricks before it came time to go to BYU in Provo. I did not have the money to go to college in Provo. Mom and Dad asked me if I was going to go to college down there and I told them I did not have any money to go. Without me asking them, they gave me $600 so I could go to BYU in Provo to tide me over until I could get a job down there. I did not consider the $600 as a gift nor as pay. When I graduated from college and mom and dad were divorced, I separately paid them back $300 each to pay back what they had given me. Our dear parents had a hard time in this old life as far as money was concerned. I remember them fighting many times about money. I did not like it when they fought about money. I bought a motorcycle for $400 when I was 14 years old and faithfully paid $15 per month payments on it for 2 1/2 years. Do you remember when I rented Mark Ricks little field across the fence that Ricks' didn't want to mess with because it was so small. I planted it in potatoes, irrigated it, harvested it, and sold the potatoes and gave Mark 1/3 for rent. I did that when I was 15 years old.
*end of Steve's email copy

My perspective on Steve's memory:
I find Steve's comments to be a validation of the Mother's mindset about money.  She was resourceful and expected her children to do the same.  It was not a lecture but was always an expectation.  The fact that at as young an age as 14, my brother had already learned the value of  utilizing limited funds to keep his word to repay a loan for a period of 2.5 years is quite amazing.  Our Mother's family, the Parks, were gifted entrepreneurs.  As I can recall,  all her brothers had their own businesses, ranging from farming, logging, bottled water, and even a trout enterprise.  I have memories of Mother selling her hand work when I was still in grade school.  I remember after all of us were gone, including Dad, she would resell a few items she bought at garage sales.  I was in college when Steve rented our neighbors little field.  I am gratified to learn this.  I am certain Mother fully expected him to run his little entrepreneurial adventure responsibly  in an excellent manner and in that, she was not disappointed.  I am certain she did not lecture, insist on progress reports, or double check on his quality of performance.  She knew the caliber of her son, knew he could do the job, and that was enough. 
My memory of asking for money was due to the fact that I did not do the outside daily milking and chores like my brothers.    I was never paid a cent for any labor nor did I ever resent it.  I wanted to get a summer job, but was discouraged due to Mother's health and the need for transportation for farm tasks.  I remember when I got home from my mission Dad gave me a pig in hopes her litter and subsequent sale would help me with expenses at BYU the coming fall, and it did.  Other than that experience, everything I earned before my senior year was most usually picking potatoes in the fall or sorting and cutting them in the spring for various neighbors.  I would try to stretch that money as far as it would go.   When I had money, I never asked my parents to finance any activity or perceived need.   If Dad would not have floated me for a movie or dance ticket during part of the school year, I would have never had much of a winter social life as a teen.  I think it was the same for my sister Robin.

Arlene Park Arnold/Money Mindset

Mother kept track of the family money and income.  She kept the bills in the kitchen cupboard above the radio or tucked neatly by the radio. She was a list maker.  She carefully kept track of money that went out and came in.  I am sure this was a daunting task of tracking the farm expenses.  I cannot recall Dad having anything to do with paying of the bills, tracking the income, or budget.  Perhaps he did, but I just never did see it.  Sometimes we heard about it, however.  It was not uncommon for my parents to have some very heated discussions about how money was being spent.  Mother was careful with her budget projections and Dad was not.  One Christmas Mother calculated carefully how much could be spent for Christmas and with that proceeded to make careful gift purchases for the children.  Dad went to town on Christmas Eve afternoon and bought gifts for all of us without talking to Mom.  I can still see him carrying in a huge card board box full of the gifts.  He was so proud of himself, because he hardly ever did the gift buying.  None of them were wrapped and he handed them out that evening.  Mother was furious.   She kept it contained pretty well around the younger ones, but she did not hide it from me or Dad much later that night.    I look back and think it rather comical now.  Mother always said she could hardly add two plus two.  She really struggled with math.  Dad, however, could add columns of numbers in his head without using paper.  I recall vividly Mother sitting at the kitchen table with paper and pencil using her fingers to tally.  This was long before calculators were invented.  Dad was a calculator.  Mother used to shrug it off.  She said he could do math better than her but she was a perfect speller.  When ever I needed money, especially in the teen years, it was usually Dad that I went to.  Mother would carefully write the amount down in a tablet she kept in the kitchen cupboard.  Often when the amount was written, it was with the assumption that it would be earned or paid back.  I think by today's standards our mother serves as an example of one who taught her children excellent financial accountability.  All of her children were taught financial responsibility by example and this  has served us well in our own lives.

Arlene Park Arnold/ Pillow Perfection

I read my niece Danielle's blog about her pillows and it brought back memories of Mother's pillows. I jokingly commented in Danielle's blog that I did not know pillow perfection was hereditary.  Mother loved them.  She hand made all her pillows.  She always matched her sofa and chairs, knew exactly where she wanted them, and heaven help the person who moved them would ever use one of the new decorative pillows for their head!  I remember Walt using one under his head when he came for a visit.  As I remember, I think a look was all it took and that pillow was right back where it was beautifully placed for decor purposes.  She did have a few old ones scattered around for use, but never ever a newer one was to be used for support of a dirty head and especially on the floor!  They were placed neatly along the back of the sofa.  She made and sold pillows in her later years.  She made checked, ruffled, quilted, or plain.  Some had lace, rick rack, or applique.  She would put them on a table downstairs for display purpose if someone was interested in purchasing.  She sold them to sisters, nieces, visiting teachers, and friends.

Trapped with Six Young Men

Okay, this is not what I bargained for.....rain, mud, and six of my grandsons trapped inside the  RV.  I guess the first omen of the weekend was when, after borrowing Sheena's larger SUV, (mine only holds 5) , packing the over head and back, I loaded in the boys, and the car would not start.  All the men were gone, we tried to get it going, decided it needed a new battery.   Cori volunteered her car that holds 8, so we repacked everything into that car, and finally got on our way about two hours later than planned.  Once on the mountain it began to rain periodically.  The rain would break  for about an hour and they are outside playing war with their soft guns.  The rain would start, and they are right back in caked with mud and soaked.  The first night we were able to do smores around the campfire, they next night the wood was so wet...forget a fire of any kind.    I brought a few "guy" movies, Sandlot, Rocky, Rocky II, The Rookie, but that was my alternate activity.  I could have taken them all home the first  morning, but they were so disappointed, I just couldn't.  They promised they would help me and be excellent young men and they were.  I didn't hear one fight or major disagreement.  They were helpful and polite.  Justin, 15 yrs and Jade 14 yrs, treated Logan 13,  Brad 12 , Morgan 11, and Jaxon with patience.  Considering the large age difference, I was amazed how well they all treated one another.  Even with the wounds of Jaxon's eye ball getting wacked with a roasting stick, a soft bullet bruise on the cheek, and a large knife cut on Logan's little finger, they still were determined to have a good time.   My plan for this weekend was to share some granny-love and testimony of the power of the Priesthood.  Besides the fun, I had planned on a few stories about honoring the priesthood during WWII told around the campfire the first night and discussing the Sons of Helaman, then next night putting out a huge quilt in a open area, a circle with our heads and while looking at the stars, I was going to share some great pioneer stories of the priesthood in action while crossing the plains.  Then Sunday morning I would take them all to Alton ward, the little country church about 10 miles from our campsite.  Plans turned to reality when our three days were spent watching some movies, waiting for the rain to break, then running outside for a few hours of activity, then back in the RV caked in mud, soaked, changing clothes, eating junk food, and then repeat.  By Sunday there were no clean clothes and I was afraid I would not be able to get out of camp due to the mud.  I had a brief "fireside" inside the RV, Jade gave the opening prayer, and by the time I had finished one WWII story, the thunder was cracking.  I closed with my testimony and said, "Hurry, let's get out of here while we can." I never leave the Rv dirty.  Leaving filthy floors, dirty dishes, we literally were throwing packs, quilts, muddy boots, and guns into the back of the car.  I was so worried about damage to Cori's car if I had to go through mud and deep ruts.  Our roads are not maintained and are definitely for trucks, and when wet, can be very bad.  We had gone about a mile and just before we got to the gate to get on the highway,  rain started coming down so fast the windshield wipers could not keep it off.  We had got out just in time.  It made for some excitement for my young current and future priesthood holders.  I don't know if my plans were a complete failure.  On the way home, they were talking about when they could come to the mountain again.  One of the boys said, "Well, I want Grandma to be there when I go again."  That was all I needed to know.  It was all worth it, even with the mud and the rain.

Emma Veda Arrives

 

There are times in life that are just sweet.  A time when every human sense is alive, well, and the heart swells and still cannot seem to contain all the joy.  The birth of a grandchild is such an experience.  Walt's Aunt, who had 11 children, told me years ago when my own children were small, that you think you can never love anything as much as your own children, but then you find out that it extends into eternity through grandchildren.  She was right. 

Little Emma  arrived at 3:32 a.m. July 28 to Jessica and Cody Heimberger.  They gave her the middle name of Veda after Walt's Mother.  Veda is the only grandparent Jessi ever knew, and she loved her dearly.  Emma weighed 7 lb 4 oz and decided she could no longer wait for the doctor.  The nurse delivered her and Emma's little head is a witness to having to wait tooooooo long in the birth canal.  What a little cone head.  Poor little baby measured 21 inches long, but a week after her birth measured only 19 in.  She was born with a mop of black hair and given the title of cutest baby born that week by all the nurses.  Two proud and loving parents, grandparents, and aunts all agreed.  Of course, Jess and Cody think she is the cutest baby of all time.



Due to Jessi and Cody leaving for Provo in time for college, Emma was blessed in our home.  This afforded me a rare opportunity to get a picture of the blessing circle right after they said amen. 



A Very proud daddy with a proud grandpa looking on.