A Trip to Southern California

A few weeks before my mission was over I saw an advertisement in the newspaper that really caught my eye. It stated that a car dealer was looking for people to drive cars to Los Angeles at no cost to them. Elder Ferguson and I went to the dealer to see what the ad was all about. We were told that used cars were more expensive in Los Angeles than in Tulsa. As a result the dealer was buying cars in Tulsa and getting people to drive them to Los Angeles where they were sold for a profit. The dealer told us it was much less expensive for him to pay the car expenses and insurance for someone to drive a car to Los Angeles than to hire a trucker to haul them there. When we attended the district conference where Elder Spencer W. Kimball spoke to us, I told the missionary that had entered the mission field with me about the advertisement (I do not remember the missionaries name, so from here on I will call him Joe.) Joe had never been to California and said he would like to go, but he felt he needed to go home first and see his family. In addition to seeing my parents in North Ogden, I wanted to go to Southern California to see my brothers, Lowell, LaVar and Wendell and their families. When the conference was over, Joe and I went to talk to the dealer. We told him we were willing to drive one car to Los Angeles, but we wanted to take a side trip to Utah on the way. The dealer agreed to our proposal as long as we would pay for the extra gasoline and deliver the car in Los Angeles within ten days after we left Tulsa.

Just before my scheduled release date I received a letter in the mail from President Ellsworth containing an honorable release from my mission effective October 27, 1952 and a check to pay for my bus transportation home. Joe and I had determined what our expenses would be for the trip to California, and we felt that if we combined the funds the church had given us it would more than pay our way. Our plan was to drive to our homes in Utah and on to Los Angeles. Then return to Utah by bus. We left early the morning of our release and drove half the way to Utah the first day. We spent that night in a motel and then drove to Joe’s home in Emery, Utah the next day. We stayed with Joe’s folks for two days and then went on to North Ogden and stayed with my folks for two days.

When we left North Ogden, we drove straight through to Lowell’s home in Pasadena, California, The next day we delivered the car to the dealer in Los Angeles and took the bus to LaVar’s home in Culver City, California. We had a little time for sight seeing before a weekend party with my brothers and their families at Lowell’s home. Wendell and his family came down from Bakersfield, California.

LaVar asked me what I planned to do when I returned home. I responded that I wanted to go to college, but I still did not know what to major in. LaVar was an electrical engineer and suggested that I major in that field because engineers were in great demand. I told my brothers of my experience at Weber College trying to take engineering classes, and how I almost got failing grades. I felt it was not a good idea for me to take more engineering classes.

Lowell and LaVar took me to task for my lack of confidence. LaVar pointed out I was a much different person after my mission than I was when I first entered college. He was sure I had learned to study while on my mission and knowing how to study would make a big difference in my schooling.

Lowell, who had his master’s degree from the Columbia University and was a dean at Pasadena Junior College, quoted some statistics showing that normally siblings have essentially equal IQ’s. Therefore, if other members of our family could make it through hard college classes so could I.

I was skeptical as a result of my experience at Weber College, but after my brothers verbally pounded their points into me for most of a day I decided to give electrical engineering a try.

Joe and I caught the bus back to Utah and I was determined to get into college as soon as I could in hopes of getting an education deferment from the draft. The Korean War was still raging and I knew if I was not able to get an education deferment I would be classified 1-A and drafted into the Army within two or three months.

A Date with Karen

I had thought about Karen Vandenbosch a great deal after that night when I had sorted her out from the other girls I considered candidates to be my wife. I was anxious to see her again and on the first day I arrived home from Southern California I called a friend and learned she was still single and working in the ticket booth at the Orphium Theater. To the knowledge of the person I asked she was not involved with any particular person at that time.

That evening I went to the theater and she was happy to see me. I talked to her in between ticket customers for a while and then asked her for a date the following evening. She said she would like to go with me but she had to work. I asked her for a date the next night, and then the next. Each time I got the same response, she had to work.

This was not at all what I had expected. She had worked part time for the theater the last couple of years when we were dating. When I ask her for a date in those years she would arrange to switch her work schedule with another employee in order to go with me. I suggested that she arrange a switch with another employee for one of the next three nights.

“Owen, you don’t understand,” she said with a little irritation in her voice, “This is my full-time job. I can’t just switch around like I did when I was working part-time.”

I did not like the irritation in her voice but I was not about to give up. I asked if I could take her home when she got off work that evening. She said she had come to work in her car, but she would ride the bus the next day if I wanted to take her home after work. I agreed to pick her up when she got off work the next evening, but in the back of my mind it rankled me that she would not even try to arrange a switch to go out with me even if it was her full-time job.

I met her at the theater at the appointed hour the next evening and we went to our favorite drive-in for a hamburger and malt. It was fun to be with her again, so after we had eaten I drove to another favorite place where we used to park and look over the city lights below. Parking with her was just like old times and I had almost forgotten that she had refused to arrange a switch.

On the way to her home I ask her about her plans. To my surprise she did not seem to have any. I asked her about going to college and I do not recall her answer, but she did not give me a warm feeling that she had any real goals. The apparent lack of direction in her life, her refusal to try and arrange a switch at her work so she could go with me, and her working in a job that had her unavailable for dating most evenings all seemed significant negatives. The more I that thought about these factors I became sure Karen was not the girl for me after all.

When we got to her house, I kissed her good night and told her good-by. I have no idea what she thought when I turned and left her standing at her door. Her refusal to try and arrange a work schedule switch so we could go on a date together may have irritated me more than I thought.

Back to Weber College

I had decided on my major and was anxious to pursue my scholastic goals at Weber College. I knew that early in the Korean conflict the students studying technical fields were given student deferments from the draft. I hoped that if I got into college with an electrical engineering major, I could get a deferment.

When I went to Weber College and told the registrar I wanted to enroll in engineering classes, she looked at me like I was crazy.

“Don’t you know that today ends the first half of fall quarter?” she asked, “If you register now, you will have to make up the first half-quarter’s work in addition to your regular day-to-day assignments.”

I had not thought about where the students were in the fall quarter. I did know that some critical engineering classes were only taught during fall quarter. If I missed taking those classes this quarter, my entire college schedule would be fouled up unless I waited until the next fall to start school. I did not want to wait for two reasons; I wanted to be deferred from the draft, and I did not want to wait another year to get on with my life. After rolling around in my head what the registrar had said, I told her I still wanted to register.

She took a deep breath, and I could see the wheels spinning in her brain. We looked at each other for what I am sure was a full minute before she spoke.

“Owen, you are a graduate from this college so I will let you register on one condition. You contact each teacher of the classes you plan to take. If they will allow you to enroll in their classes at this late date, I will let you register.”

I knew I had to retake college algebra in order to get my grade changed from a “D” to what I hoped would he an “A”. Beyond that I had not given my registration much thought. I knew certain classes had to be taken during fall quarter, and I would have to enroll with a full college load in order to have any chance of a draft deferment. I thanked the registrar and told her I would go talk to my teachers.

I took the Fall Quarter Catalog to the library to work out my class schedule. I saw that Elliot Rich was teaching a college algebra class at 8:00 a.m. I had taken a class from Mr. Rich and liked him very much, so I decided to go and talk to him. I found him in his office and he remembered me. I explained that I wanted to enroll in his college algebra class. A sullen expression covered his face as he paused to think over what I had asked. Then he spoke with a firm voice.

“I’ll let you in my class under the following conditions. First, you must complete the current assignments each day. Second, all of the homework assignments for the first half of the quarter must be completed and handed in before the final examination. Third, if you do not complete all that work and get a passing grade on every examination, I will flunk you cold!”

“Thank you Mr. Rich,” I said, “I will be in your class on Monday morning.”

I went back to the library and studied the catalog until I determined the other classes I needed to take during fall quarter for a major in electrical engineering. When I contacted the teachers of my other classes, I got essentially the same instruction as I had received from Mr. Rich.

I returned to the registrar, filled out the paperwork and paid my fees. I was now registered for college.

I had taken a bold and perhaps foolish course of action, but I hoped I had done the right thing. I remembered how lost in a fog I had been most of the time when I took college algebra the first time around. It was my hope and prayer that my knowing how to study would make the difference this time.

When I got home that afternoon, I explained what I had done to my father. I had not requested his help during my earlier college days. While I was in Southern California, LaVar told me that Dad was a mathematical genius. If I had problems with college algebra, I was to ask him for assistance. I felt sure that even if I knew how to study, I would still need help in college algebra. I explained this to my father, and he told me to go to the library each day and complete the assignments in all my other classes. He would help me with college algebra when I got home in the evening.

At the end of my first college algebra class Mr. Rich gave me a copy of the homework assignments for the first half of the quarter. At the end of each of the other classes I talked to the teachers and learned what I had to make up in their classes. When I had all my make-up assignments, I went to the library to assess the work I had ahead of me. I felt overwhelmed.

I decided what Mr. Rich had directed me to do in his class was the proper approach for all my classes. I would complete my current day’s assignments before school started the next day no matter what. When those assignments were done I would try to finish my scheduled make-up assignments that same day. If I could not get all the scheduled make-up completed that day, I would catch it up on weekends.

Most of my siblings found mathematics to be one of their best subjects, but math was not easy for me. I do not know if missing early math training in the second grade had anything to do with it or not, but after I attended my first class with Mr. Rich I really felt depressed.

That evening I had a tutoring session with my father. To even try and compare his mathematical ability with mine was ridiculous. I soon learned he could work the college algebra problems in his head while it was a major struggle for me to work them on paper. Having Dad as my tutor was a real fun experience, except he would often burst into laughter at my mathematical stupidity. He slowly and carefully taught me college algebra step by step so that I got an “A” on all my tests. When the quarter was over and my grades came out, I had made the honor roll with an “A” in all my classes. Maybe my brothers were right, and I was not so dumb after all.

See the Girl in the Red Suit

The Sunday following my return from Southern California, my date with Karen Vandenbosch, and my registration at Weber College, I gave my missionary homecoming report at Sacrament Meeting in my home ward. I got to the meeting early and talked to a few people before selecting a seat on the stand. I studied the program in hopes of finding the names of two youth speakers and perhaps a special musical number on the program, but no such luck. In those days Sacrament Meeting was an hour and one-half long, so I was expected to talk for essentially an hour.

The Bishopric came up on the stand and shook hands with me. The Bishop was Grant Alder and his first counselor was Leroy Oaks. When the Bishopric sat down, Brother Oaks sat next to me. He leaned over and asked, “Do you see where my wife is sitting in the middle of the center section?”

“Yes,” I responded.

“See the girl in the red suit sitting next to her? My wife has brought the girl here to meet you. The two of them teach home economics at Walquist Junior High School.”

I could see the girl was an attractive young lady, and red was my favorite color. I was starting to tell Brother Oaks I would like to meet her when the Bishop got up to start the meeting.

When the time came for me to speak, I told a joke in an attempt to gain the interest of the youth. I remembered how much I liked to hear return missionaries speak and tell of their experiences and adventures when I was a kid. I hoped to do my part to keep that tradition alive.

I started my talk something like this: “My dear Brothers and Sisters, it’s great to be home and see all of you again. Talking to you tonight reminds me of a story I heard while on my mission.

“A traveling preacher came into a small farming community, put up his revival tent and passed out handbills advertising his services that evening. When it was time for the meeting to start, the only person in the audience was an old farmer dressed in overalls. The preacher walked to the door of the tent and looked out. To his dismay no one else was coming to his meeting.

“He went to the old farmer and said, ‘I’m sorry, but you are the only one that has come to my revival. Maybe it would he best to cancel the meeting for tonight.’

‘I’m just an old farmer,’ the man said in his mid-western twang, ‘but if I went down to the pasture to feed my cows and there was only one cow, I would feed her.’

“The man’s statement so inspired the preacher that he dashed to the podium and gave a fiery sermon that lasted two hours. When he finished, he went back to the farmer and asked him what he thought.

‘Well like I said,’ he responded, ‘I’m just an old farmer, but if I went to the pasture to feed my cows and there was only one cow, I sure wouldn’t give her the whole load.’”

I paused while people laughed at my joke, and then went on to tell them I would not give them the whole load that evening.

When the meeting was over, Brother Oaks grabbed my arm and elbowed his way off the stand and down to where his wife and the girl were making their way toward the aisle. Sister Oaks introduced me to the girl. Her name was Jerrie Hansen, and she looked very lovely in her red suit.

Someone grabbed my arm and turned my attention toward the members of the ward who were swarming around to welcome me home and congratulate me on my talk. When the ward members finally thinned out, I turned back around and both Sister Oaks and the girl were gone.

When the college algebra tutoring session with my father ended the next evening, I called Sister Oaks on the telephone. After some small talk, I made an appointment to go to her house and meet with her the following afternoon when she got home from teaching school.

The next morning I put a small stack of 3? by 5? cards in my pocket before I went to school. Whenever I thought of something that I wanted to know about the girl, I wrote it down on the cards.

About five o’clock that afternoon I met with Sister Oaks, and she was very gracious during my interview. I had dozens of questions about the girl, her family background, her testimony of the gospel, her dedication to the church and her philosophy of life. I had written these questions down and everything else I wanted to know about the girl including her address, phone number, and if she was a good school teacher. Sister Oaks was very candid in her answers to all my questions. There was not the slightest hint of a negative response to anything I ask. Her answers made the girl seem too good to be true. Had I not known Sister Oaks as well as I did, I would have thought she was stringing me along. Finally, I decided the girl must really he as outstanding as Sister Oaks described.

The next day when I got home from school I called the girl and ask her for a date to go to a movie. She accepted, and I started planning a movie date that would give us some time together to get acquainted without going to a lover’s lane to park on our first date. If we went to a movie, then got a hamburger and malt at a drive-in, and I took her straight home, it would not give us much time for meaningful conversation. I thought about taking her out to dinner, but I had become short of funds, and I did not want to start something I could not afford to continue in the future.

After due consideration I selected my course of action. Unless she had been to a movie in Salt Lake City all the movies there would be new to her because movies played in Salt Lake before they came to Ogden. By going to Salt Lake we could have our pick of any movie playing there, plus the bonus of an hour and one-half of uninterrupted traveling time to get to know each other.

My plan worked to perfection. We went to Salt Lake City and saw the movie The Snows of Kilimanjaro. When we got back to Ogden we went to my favorite drive-in for a hamburger and malt. By then we were reasonably well acquainted, and I knew her as “Jerrie”, rather than the lovely girl in the red suit.

It was not considered acceptable to kiss a nice girl good night on the first date in those days, so after the hamburger and malt I took her home, helped her out of the car and we walked up to her door.

“I’ve really enjoyed this evening and would like more dates with you,” I said, “but I have a problem. I just entered Weber College at mid-quarter, and I am carrying a full load of credits. Essentially all my time except for sleeping, eating, and attending classes I spend studying. Therefore, I can only allow myself one date a week, and I would like that date to be with you. Any night of the week is as good as any other for me, so you choose the night that is best for your schedule.”

Jerrie later told me she thought that was the dumbest thing she had ever heard. She looked at me like I was crazy. However, she must have liked me and enjoyed our evening together because she accepted my offer and selected the night for our next date.

Quinn Call and Maurine Miurbrook were to be married on November 14th, and Quinn asked me to be his best man. Jerrie agreed to be my date for their reception. I think it was our third date. Quinn and Maurine told me they were going to have a special dance that started with just the bride and groom dancing; then, the bride’s maid and best man and their partners would enter the dance floor. After a couple of minutes the remainder of the wedding party would join in.

Jerrie was very apprehensive about our dancing together for the first time when so many people were watching. I had not danced for two years, and I was more than apprehensive, I was scared stiff, but we made it through the dance without making one false step.

The Sunday evening following Quinn and Maurine’s reception Jerrie went with me to Elder Ferguson’s missionary homecoming report in his ward in Logan.

Elder Ferguson’s missionary report started our Sacrament Meeting dates. From then until the end of the quarter, Jerrie and I had two dates each week, our regular date sometime during the week and a Sacrament Meeting date on Sunday. The two dates each week must have been sufficient, because before the Christmas holidays arrived we were going steady.

Until we started going steady Jerrie had continued to date other fellows. She had been engaged to one of the fellows while she was going to Brigham Young University. She would select our weekly date to fit in between her other dates. When she agreed to go steady with me, she felt she should go on one more date with each of the other fellows and tell them in person that she would not be going with them anymore.

One of the fellows she had been dating was a city dude through and through, and he wanted to know whom she was going to go steady with. She said it was Owen Barker.

“That country hick with manure on his shoes,” he exclaimed, “What do you see in him?”

After a moments hesitation she said, “It must be the manure on his shoes.”

Classified “1-A” by My Draft Board

My attempt to get a student deferment from the draft board was rejected, and I was classified “1-A”, the classification for men immediately available for the draft. It turned out that anyone who had served a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints during the Korean War had been deferred because missionaries were considered “ministers” by the draft law. When they were released from the mission field and therefore no longer “ministers”, our church was required to notify their draft boards. The next time the draft board met following notification that the missionary had been released, the return missionary was reclassified “1-A”.

When a letter came from my draft board in December reclassifying me “1-A” I knew I would be drafted very soon, probably in the following month. Although I was disappointed that I did not get the student deferment, I was glad I had entered Weber College even if it was at mid-quarter. My schooling had been hard work and very time consuming, but I had completed a quarter of education toward my engineering degree. In addition, Dad had been able to tutor me in college algebra, and I did not know if he would be able to do that at some unknown time in the future. Without his tutoring I may not have passed the college algebra course with a good enough grade to go on with subsequent engineering classes.

Christmas Vacation

Oliver, Myra and their children were going to Southern California for the Christmas holidays and invited my parents and I to go along. I very much wanted to go but a conflict had developed. Jerrie wanted me to go to Monroe to spend the holidays with her and her family. At the last moment I worked out an acceptable compromise. Jerrie went to Monroe in central Utah where her parents lived, and I went to Southern California with my family. The day after Christmas we would come back to Utah rather than staying in California through New Years Day as had been planned. That way I could spend the last holiday week with Jerrie and her family.

When we arrived in Southern California, I wanted to immediately send Jerrie a postcard so it would arrive in Monroe before I did. I picked out a comic card I thought was appropriate and wrote her a note on it. I looked at what I had written and remembered that Jerrie was a schoolteacher. We were going steady, but she had never seen my writing and did not know that I was a poor speller. I decided to have Myra, who was also a schoolteacher, check the card for spelling and grammar. Myra found so many mistakes that I bought another card and copied my note onto it. When Myra rechecked the card, she found I had missed making several of her recommended changes. I bought a third card and very carefully recopied my note incorporating her corrections. This time my card passed Myra’s inspection.

While I was recopying my note onto the card the last time, an interesting thought came to me. I wondered if the girls I had corresponded with during the first few months of my mission had stopped returning my letters because my spelling and grammar were so poor. Perhaps they thought I was a nice guy, but with such a lack of skills in the English language, I must not be very smart.

My family and I had a very good time in Southern California, and the day after Christmas we left for Utah as planned. We were to meet Jerrie and her father at Cove Fort, Utah, so I telephoned her when we got to Cedar City to say we were on schedule.

There was a lot of snow that year and the narrow winding mountain pass between what is now Interstate 15 and Highway 89, the route presently followed by Interstate 70, was very treacherous. Nevertheless, after I called she and her father braved the bad roads and were waiting for us when we arrived at Cove Fort.

As Oliver and I got out of his car it was bitter cold, well below Zero, we did not waste any time getting my suitcase out of his trailer. I bid my family a fond farewell, and with my suitcase in hand I got into the truck with Jerrie and her father. With great care her father successfully guided his truck back over the slippery pass and on to Monroe.

The next day I discovered I had committed a most unforgivable sin. I had left my garment bag in Oliver’s trailer. I had not used the garment bag all the time I was in California and had forgotten my suit was in it. As I stated earlier, in those days either a suit or slacks and sport coat was the expected attire for essentially all dating occasions. In fact, until the previous night when Jerrie and her father had met me at Cove Fort, she had never seen me dressed in anything but a suit.

Without proper attire Jerrie would not take me to the functions she had planned for us to attend. She was furious and accused me of forgetting my suit on purpose so I would not have to go to the Monroe parties with her, especially the New Year’s Eve dance. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but I’m not sure she believes me even to this day.

Without a suit for me to wear we kept a rather low profile all week. We spent a lot time with Jerrie’s parents, Verd and Mae Hansen, and her eighteen-year-old sister, Sue. I tried to help Jerrie’s mother by repairing things around the house. I remember taking her broken iron apart and trying to fix it. I think I was successful.

When our time together in Monroe ended, we drove back to Ogden in Jerrie’s car. We had missed the parties that Jerrie had wanted us to attend, but her family and I had a lot more time together and became better acquainted than if Jerrie and I had spent the week at parties.

A New Year Dawns

By the time the Christmas holidays were over, I think both Jerrie and I knew we would get married, even if we had not talked about it directly. When winter quarter started early in January of 1953, my study time was considerably different than it had been during fall quarter. Without the first half of a quarter’s homework and examinations to make up in addition to the regular daily assignments, I had much more freedom in my life.

Because of this new freedom, Jerrie and I significantly changed our dating procedure. I would ride the bus to college in the morning, attend my classes and study in the library until it closed. Jerrie would come in her car and meet me in front of the library at 10:00 p.m., and we would spend a couple of hours together before she took me home. With that arrangement we usually only had two dates together each week. We would do something special on Saturday evening, and go to Sacrament Meeting together on Sunday.

One evening there was heavy snow falling when Jerrie brought me home from the library. She drove in our driveway, across the bridge over the canal and on to the side of our house. When I got out of the car, I walked around and gave her one last kiss before she backed out of our driveway to return to her apartment in Ogden. That last kiss must have been powerful because as she backed out of the driveway she dropped one wheel off the bridge and nearly went into the canal. After determining she was all right and her car was steady on the bridge, I started the tractor and pulled her car back onto the road. Jerrie received an abundance of playful teasing from my family and our friends about the effect of that last kiss.

Luan Ferrin and Wilma Moore were married on January 15th, and Luan ask me to be his best man. Luan and I had known each other since the third grade, and it turned out that Wilma and I were shirttail relatives. I was pleased and honored to be the best man at their wedding.

About this same time I received a second letter from my draft board telling me to report to Ft. Douglas in Salt Lake City for a physical examination preparatory to being drafted into the Army. I was very discouraged when I read the letter. I had found the girl I wanted to marry, and I was doing well in college. I did not want to put either of these critical events in my life on hold, but it seemed I had no choice in the matter.

With heavy heart I drove to Ft. Douglas early on the morning of my scheduled physical examination. When I arrived, I was ushered into a room with several hundred other fellows. We were given a short introductory talk about what we were to do, where we were to go and told to fill out some papers. When we completed the paperwork we were sent to the medical facility.

At the medical facility we were directed to remove all of our clothes, put the clothes into a locker, wear the locker key on a string around our necks, and get in a line. Most of the time we stood in lines single file, but for some of the examinations they lined us up side by side while the doctors looked us over. Once they had us bend over and spread the cheeks of our buttocks while the doctors walked along behind us and inspected that part of our anatomy. We waited stark naked in line after line while they checked our heart, lungs, eyes, feet, and on and on.

While I was waiting in lines with nothing better to do, I looked over the other fellows. I decided I was more muscular than most of the men, probably as a result of years of hard work on the farm. I thought many of the men were down right scrawny.

Not all of my medical examinations were completed when the public address system came on. The names of several men were called out, including mine. We were instructed to report to the starting point for physical examinations. I left my place in line and went to the starting point as directed. There was a doctor waiting for me. He told me to come with them, and still naked I followed him into a sound proof insulated chamber.

The doctor closed the door and listened to my heart with his stethoscope. He listened, and listened and listened. He must have listened for five minutes before he told me to stay where I was, and he went out. In just a few minutes another doctor came in and took his turn listening and listening with his stethoscope.

When the second doctor finished listening to my heart, he led me to an office down the hall and instructed me to wait while he conferred with his colleague. About ten minutes later he returned and said I was being rejected from military service because I had had rheumatic fever. He told me during World War ll there were many health problems with men serving after having a history of rheumatic fever. With that experience during World War II the armed services decided that during the Korean War anyone with a history of that illness would be rejected. He said the paperwork I had filled out indicated I had had rheumatic fever. The session in the sound proof room was to verify my having had the illness. He then told me I was very lucky to have had such a complete recovery. It had been extremely difficult for them to verify that I really had had the illness. Nevertheless, I was being rejected from military service for medical reasons and would be reclassified “4F” by my draft board.

I can not begin to describe the reaction and emotions that took place within me when I was rejected. I had come to Ft. Douglas with heavy heart that day because I did not want to go into the army, but when I was rejected everything changed. I could not believe that big, strong, healthy me had been rejected for medical reasons, while dozens of little scrawny squirts were being accepted. It hurt, and it hurt bad, way deep inside of me.

I was still seething over my medical rejection when I met Jerrie that evening. After a couple of hours together she had my head screwed back on straight and my emotions were soothed out. By the time I left her that night I was thankful I had been rejected and could go on with my life and my goals without the interruption of military service. In a few short hours the dawn of the New Year had changed its face from a dull ugly frown to a bright and shiny smile that radiated sunshine to the whole world.

Engaged To Be Married

In the middle of January we set our marriage date for September, but we kept the news to ourselves. By the end of January we had moved the date up to June. A week later we had moved the date up to the end of winter quarter. When the Valentine Day weekend arrived we had decided to go to Monroe and tell her parents we were getting married on March 4th.

Nearly every Saturday since coming home from my mission I had worked for my father, and that amount of work had earned me enough cash for spending money. But spending money was insufficient to pay for engagement and wedding rings. Jerrie tried to discourage me from buying rings for her except a wedding band. She said she had been engaged once and had the thrill of getting an engagement ring. After due consideration I decided to bite the bullet and buy her a set of rings on credit.

I purchased the rings without her knowledge and planned to give her the engagement ring on Valentine Day while we were in Monroe. I had the ring in my pocket the night before Valentine Day as we were driving toward Monroe. The further we went the more I worried that I would loose the ring out of my pocket. Finally, I stopped the car at a stop sign and gave her the ring. She seemed pleased with the ring, but did not think I was very romantic the way I gave it to her.

When we told her parents we planned to be married on March 4th her mother almost passed out. She said she could not be ready for a wedding reception in only three weeks. Jerrie and I felt we had waited long enough to get married. We were not about to postpone our wedding day so her mother could have more time to prepare for a reception.

Her mother almost went into shock when we told her we would come back to Monroe for a reception whenever she got it ready, but we were getting married on March 4th.

When we returned to North Ogden and told my parents we were getting married on March 4th they were almost as panic stricken as Jerrie’s mother. Not because we were getting married so soon, but because we had selected March 4^th as our wedding date.

In the excitement of new love I had forgotten the significance of March 4^th when we set the wedding date. March 4^th is the date of the annual ward reunion in North Ogden where my father had been bishop for twelve years and a counselor to Bishop Ward for three years before that. To my parents the March 4th Ward Reunion was the most important event of the year. Mother pointed out to us that many of our friends and relatives would want to go to the reunion, and it would not be fair to make them choose between our wedding reception and the ward reunion. Finally we caved in to their wishes and announced to the world that we would be married on March 5, 1953, the day following the reunion.

I had received my endowment in the Salt Lake Temple while in the Mission Home. Jerrie wanted to receive her endowments in the Salt Lake Temple and be married in the Manti Temple where her parents and grandparents had been married. So on the Saturday before our wedding date we went to the Salt Lake Temple and Jerrie received her endowments.

Jerrie was a beautiful bride on our wedding day, and I was proud to become her husband. She was smart, talented, charming, graceful, creative, loving, motivated, resourceful and well educated. She said I married her because she had a job and a car, and she married me because I had curly hair, brown eyes and three dimples.

At my last missionary conference Elder Spencer W. Kimball directed all the soon to be released missionaries to go home and marry a worthy girl of their choice. I had been successful in following Elder Kimball’s direction. The details of our wedding and our lives together are contained in Volume II of my life history.