Christmas is More Than Gifts

When Clarence was 13 years old, he lived in a little frame house on a rented farm west of McCammon, Idaho.  He was the 3rd child out of 8.  His bedroom was originally the wash room and was attached to the house. His room didn't have a door, but a canvas to keep out the wind.  The snow would drift in through the cracks in the wall.  He slept on a cot with a straw mattress and put hot irons in the foot of the bed to stay warm.

The family didn't make enough money from their farm to get through the winter.  So his father and older brother (age 15) took a job feeding cattle and milking cows near Pocatello, 22 miles away.

He was left to care for his mother and siblings.  Their fuel was wood they got from a nearby canyon, they didn't have money for coal.  When the sleigh came by to pick up children for school, he was still cutting wood.

He was lucky if he got to school by recess time.  After school he went back to chopping wood and other chores.

That Christmas was small in the way of gifts.  But he did get a flannel shirt made by his mother.

He considered this a very precious gift.  

Despite the meager gifts, the Pack family had love and happiness in their home.  They owned an organ which his older sister, Connie, could play beautifully.  They had a family program on Christmas Eve with songs, poems, games, apples, and popcorn.  His mother told the children faith-promoting stories.  

The next morning, Clarence left their home with burlap wrapped around his feet.  On horseback he rode 22 miles where his father and brother were working.  He brought them a Christmas dinner and greetings from the family.  Many tears of joy were shed at that family reunion.

He ends his story by saying, 

"It does not take expensive gifts to have a Christlike Christmas."

If you are feeling the financial pressure of providing a "good" Christmas for your loved ones.  Remember, that the greatest gift we can give is to share with others the first Christmas gift ever given.

This story comes from a talk titled "Christmas is More Than Gifts" that Clarence William Pack gave in the 1950s in Blackfoot, Idaho to his church congregation.    

Clarence William Pack (1908-1993)

my husband's grandfather

Bradford William Pack -->Clarence William Pack II-->Clarence William Pack

The Birth of Sparky

Bradford William Pack

my husband

I think the word "miracle" gets used so often to describe events that it can lose it's true meaning which is

an extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all human or natural powers and is ascribed to be an act of God.  

While I'm willing to acknowledge that a beautiful sunset is an act of God, I wouldn't necessarily call it extraordinary, especially if it's in New Mexico where all sunsets are beautiful.

http://www.trekearth.com/gallery/North_America/United_States/West/New_Mexico/Gallup/photo605639.htm

Plus, we can't really say sunsets surpass natural powers because "Molecules and small particles in the atmosphere change the direction of light rays, causing them to scatter and resulting in colorful sunsets."

But that doesn't keep us from enjoying them.

http://deviantdispatches.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html

Fortunately, my husband is a bona fide miracle.  When my husband was 11, he died. Obviously he came back to life or else I never would have become a certain Englishman's wife.  Here's the story.

**************

Bradford was living in Salt Lake City with his brothers and sisters.  His younger brother, David, was outside flying his kite practicing for a Cub Scout kite-flying contest.  Suddenly his kite got stuck in a tree.  Dave ran inside the house to ask Bradford to help him get it down.

Bradford saw that the kite was way up high near some power lines.  So he grabbed an aluminum ladder and found a long metal pole to knock the kite free from the trees.  As an 11-year old, he knew that power lines could be dangerous so he was careful not to touch them.  What he didn't know was that  electricity could actually jump from the lines over to the pole.  Which it did.

The electricity went through the pole, entered Bradford through his hands, and then exited out Bradford's right shin which was leaning against a step on the ladder.  The shock stopped Bradford's heart, and he fell off the ladder.

What happened next is what makes this event so extraordinary.


David, seeing the entire event, began to scream.  Luckily, his scream was a very high-pitched scream that could be heard by...

a neighbor who was outside doing yard work who the night before...

had taken a CPR refresher course and who also...

happened to be married to a doctor.

She rushed over to find Bradford lying on the ground and performed CPR until the ambulance arrived.  They continued to work on him and took him to the hospital.  Fortunately, they were finally able to get his heart beating again.  Unfortunately, they weren't able to do any more than that.  Bradford wasn't conscious and wasn't responding.

What happened next is what makes this event something that surpasses human powers and be an act of God.

Another neighbor family knelt together to pray for Bradford.  Their father, Hugh Pinnock, worked in downtown Salt Lake (about 20 minutes away) as a General Authority for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  He had just talked to his wife and said that he was on his way home.

Now when Hugh said he was "on his way home" that didn't mean he would get there in 20 minutes.  That meant he was leaving his office and would eventually come home, but sometimes that took up to 2 hours.  The reason why is because he usually would stop and visit people to see if they needed anything.  Knowing this, the family knelt in prayer and prayed that Hugh would come straight home.  (Remember this was in 1979 before cell phones.)

He was home within minutes.  His wife told Hugh what had happened and he rushed over to the hospital.  When he inquired as to Bradford's status he was told that they had been able to get his heart beating again but nothing else.  He was completely unresponsive.

Hugh laid his hands on Bradford's head and gave him what our church calls a priesthood blessing.  As he was finishing the blessing, Hugh said that Bradford let out a long sigh.  Within seconds he was moving around so much the doctors and nurses had to restrain him.

The next morning on his way into work, Hugh stopped by the hospital to see how Bradford was doing.  The nurses said, "Oh, haven't you heard?  Brad is on his way out, he's not doing well at all."  Hugh decided to administer another priesthood blessing.  Five days later Bradford was home from the hospital; a week later he was back in school.

With a new nickname.  Sparky.

To fully understand the severity of this electrocution, I think it is helpful to know what Bradford was like before and how he was different after.

Before Bradford was electrocuted, he was a whiz in school, especially at math.  His math teacher would have the kids play a competition math game.

Here's how the game was played.  Each contestant would draw four cards and lay them on the table.

Then another card was flipped over and each person using the 4 numbers on their own cards, had to create an equation so that the answer matched the number on the target card.

For example:

5  x  2  +  3  -  4  =  9 

Whoever came up with an equation first, won.  Bradford who was a straight-A student, would frequently win this game.  He was considered the student to beat.

When Bradford returned to school after the electrocution, he had difficulty winning the game.  He didn't even have interest in even playing it.  Additionally, his grades went from A's down to B's.  He never was an A student again.

But his low grades didn't stop him.


He graduated from BYU in Economics.


He graduated from University of Texas-Austin with a master's in Accounting.

Where he was awarded "Most Outstanding Student"

He passed the necessary exams and became a Certified Management Accountant.  

After years of working for small start-up technology companies, he started his own consulting business as a CFO for hire.

He's a walking miracle.  And I'm grateful he's alive.  Because he's mine.

Left Behind

After Maria was widowed, her second cousin Joshua Holton and his wife, Betsy wanted to adopt one of her children.  They were wealthy and couldn't have children of their own.  Her third daughter, Frances, consented to live with them.  Maria never gave them permission to adopt her, but she took on the name of Holton and was never Frances Packe again.

Frances Packe (Holton) Barratt

As payment for letting Frances live with them, Joshua and Betsy set up a store for Maria so that she could sell second-hand and new items to make a small living.

By the time Maria and her children met the Mormon missionaries and joined the LDS church, Frances had become attached to her surrogate parents and didn't want to go to America.  Against Maria's better judgment, she let Frances stay behind in England.  

Eventually the letters became farther and farther and apart.  Until finally, she never heard from Frances again.

http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3150/2930395668_fbc3303857.jpg

In 1891, George Godfrey, Eliza Pack's husband and Frances' brother-in-law was called to serve a mission in Great Britain. He traveled to Northampton and tried three times before the Holtons would permit him to see Frances.  

She was very afraid of him because he was a Mormon.  He was the last person in the family from America to see her alive.

Years later my husband's great grandfather wrote an ad in the Northampton local newspaper, The Chronicle & Echo, looking for Frances.  

She saw the ad and answered it.

She revealed that all letters from America had been kept from her and she had been forbidden to write them.  She began to correspond with her older sister Eliza.

She married Thomas William Barratt from the Channel Islands, had four children, and was widowed nine years later in 1908.  She died at the age of 87 in 1957.

Her obituary says that she was living at 162 Lutterworth Road, Northampton with her daughter Dorothy.

Picture captured from Google Maps

In 1965, Fred's daughter Letha and her husband were touring Europe and stopped by to see Dorothy.   Dorothy was startled to meet her cousins from America.  She let them in but was cool and aloof indicating that she was about to have tea with her friends.  She refused to have her picture taken and wouldn't show them any pictures of her family.  She said that it was her mother's wish not to give any information to family in America. 

As they were about to leave, Dorothy said that they could write her and she would respond.

Two years later, Fred's son Clarence (my husband's grandpa) went to England to visit Dorothy.  They learned she had died of a stroke the year before. 

Frances may have been left behind in England, but she is not forgotten.

This story was adapted from a story written by Eliza's granddaughter Florence G. Munson found in the book Descendants of Samuel Benjamin Pack and Maria Holton.

Frances Packe (Holton) Barratt (1870-1957)

My husband's second great aunt

Bradford William Pack --> Clarence (Bill) William Pack II --> Clarence William Pack --> Frederick John Samuel Pack --> brother to Frances Pack(e) Barratt

Happy Birthday to a Certain Englishman

The Wonderful Willow

Patsy (Pat) Marilyn Fresh Pack

My husband's mother

Bradford William Pack --> Patsy (Pat) Marilyn Fresh Pack

The Fresh Family - Patsy is the youngest in pigtails

THE WONDERFUL WILLOW by Pat Pack


“Ouch!” said five-year-old Patsy pulling the worn, black and white oxford off her foot. “Holes’s gone straight through,” she said sticking her long finger through the bottom of the shoe.
She shook out a tiny pebble then struggled to squish her heel into the broken shoe. She wiggled her toes and pumped her heel onto the collapsed back of her shoe. “Mmm, this could be a long
walk to the willows. Kinda be like wearing a fat flipflop if I can‘t get my foot in.”
“Mama warned me this would happen if I wouldn’t unlace my shoes.” she said lifting her index finger out as she pulled the back up and into place. “Whew. Success.” Her foot slipped into the shoe. She flipped her straw-blonde braids onto her back, and began to slowly trot towards the willows on the ditch bank next to the gravel road.
“I”m going to make a stick horse,” she said to a sparrow perched on a willow. She climbed the grassy ditch bank and began searching the willows for the perfect branch.
“Too short. Too thin. Perfect. . . that’s if I can break it off. Rex makes it look so easy. Big brother, where are you when I need you?”
Patsy twisted, pulled, yanked, and finally put all her weight on the branch as she bent it back.
C r r r a c k. Her fingers plowed into the dirt and grass. She jumped up, wiped the dirt on
her faded blue denims, and with a triumphant smile held the leaf covered stick high above her head. “I hereby name you Champion after my favorite cowboy’s horse. I love you Gene Autry.” she swooned, giggled then studied her new horse.

“Every horse I ever saw had hair, not leaves. Off with you, green leaves.” She tugged and pulled, stripping every leaf from the stick until she came to the very top of the branch.

“A horse does need a tail. I guess you’ve got a green one, Champion.” she said.
“Don’t buck,” she said lifting her leg high over the stick in an exaggerated move like she was mounting a real horse. Her blue eyes twinkled as her blond braids bounced up and down in perfect rhythm to the clip clop she pretended to hear as she galloped towards home, the fourth house on the lane.
She wanted to show Champion to Barbara Seefried whose driveway was the first one on the lane, the only child Patsy’s age near enough to play.

Patsy with Barbara Seefried

Too bad she’s not on the bridge. I’d ask her to come play cowboys and Indians. Her mom scared me yesterday when she got the razor strap from behind their kitchen door. Thank goodness she sent me home before she spanked Barbara. I was afraid she was going to spank me too.
Wonder what Barbara did to make her mom mad. Mmm think I’ll go home and play by myself. She heard the creaking of the few decaying boards still attached to the top of the Nichol’s old,
weathered, two-story barn as a soft breeze swirled through them. The second floor was Patsy’s lookout tower before racing across the pasture between the barn and her own property when she sneaked over to Barbara’s to play.
Next to the barn, almost leaning against it, was a small, narrow building with boards as grey and weathered as the barn, the outhouse, the outside toilet also known as the privy.
Was that Mr. Nichol’s or one of his boys who just darted into their outhouse? How
embarrassing to be seen by the whole neighborhood when good ole Mother Nature calls. I see
Tilly Sulzley, and Mrs. Martindale making frequent trips to theirs too. At least Barbara’s is tucked
out of site. I’m so glad we have a bathroom in our house with a toilet and bathtub.
Dad is so clever. He made our privy a tool shed with a concrete floor and painted it white to match our other out buildings.

Fresh Home in 1949

Crossing the plank bridge that spanned the irrigation ditch in front of her home, she dismounted her stick horse and walked it across the lawn. “You can graze. I’ll watch you while I rest on the new green steps Dad just finished. They are concrete, not grass, so don’t try to eat them.”

She heard the loud ring of the telephone inside the house by the front door. “One, two, three rings.
“Wonder who called the McBrides. Five rings and I could have answered. Maybe I’ll sneak
in and listen to her conversation.
“Patsy, what are you doing? Hang up the phone,” Mama whispered entering the living room from the kitchen to shoo Patsy away. Her frown was enough. Patsy carefully replaced the heavy black receiver onto a cradle base.
“I would hate to think our neighbors listened to my conversations. ” said Mama shaking her head as she pushed her glasses into place. “I almost forgot, Rex is looking for you.”
“I sure am.” A boy with curly, chestnut, hair, and a mischievous smile bounced into the room. “Hey, Squirt, where ya been?” Rex was six years older than Patsy and the closest in age of her two brothers and two sisters. He was only a little taller than Patsy. Maybe that was why she loved him so much. He was her big brother, but just her size. Well, almost her size.
“I decided to do something for you now, even if it isn’t your birthday. I know birthdays get lost when there are three the first week of January. I want you to know you’re the best, even if you bug me sometimes following me around like my shadow. Come see,” he said grabbing her hand and pulling her into the kitchen.
“I didn’t wrap it. Too big anyway. You’re always talking about going fishing. Well. now you can.” He snatched an object from behind the kitchen table. “Here.”
“Oh, Rex, my very own fishing pole.” Smiles covered both their faces. “Yippee! Look Mama.” She handed the homemade pole to her mother, then turned to face Rex.
“Do you think it will work?”
“You questioning my workmanship?” he said rolling his eyes.
“How’d you make it?” Patsy asked.
“ I took a branch from the willows where we get yer stick horses and the wiener sticks. I got
the longest and thickest I could find. See. I stripped off all the bark and whittled some of the bumps out? Isn’t it just the prettiest color you’ve ever seen? Can’t find a pole this color in a store.” Admiring his work he ran his finger over the smooth cream colored wood.

“It isn’t the straightest fishing pole, but that makes it different in a good way,” he said. “I used some of Mama’s big quilting safety pins for the eyes to hold the line. That was tricky. I had to snip them all the same size, then bend them and use some quilting thread to wrap them on the pole. She only had black quilting thread. That adds color. Then I glued on the thread and let it dry real good before I lacquered everything to waterproof it and make it shiny,” he said. “The reel is off one of my poles.”
“Do ya like it?” His eyes held an expectant glint.
“If you don’t like it,” he paused and smiled mischievously, “I’ll keep it.”
“Like it. I love it. It’s the best gift I have ever received. Thank you, Rex” she said hugging
him.. “Do you think we could catch a fish in the ditch?” “No.”
“Could we go fishing in the Blackfoot River?” she asked.

“Sure, if Mom and Dad say it’s O.K. But, YOU have to bait your own hook, and take the fish off too. . . if you catch one. And, most important of all, YOU have to clean any fish you do catch.”
“Oh. . . I guess you can keep the pole.”
Footnote: The story is true except for the ending, and it even has some truth. Rex did give me the fishing pole made from a willow as described. It was one of the most precious gifts I received as a child.
When I went to college, Rex called to see if I still had the pole he had given me so many years before. He was married and had two small boys. I told him it was still at our parent’s home. I felt my heart sink. He asked if he could have it back to give to his boys. A big part of me was sad to give it up, but I said, “Yes.” It was truly a wonderful willow from a brother I adored.
Times have changed life dramatically, but an uncomplicated life where a child could be a child is a wonderful memory. And a child with a brother who loved her is wealth beyond compare. 

My Son and Iron Man

A few months ago, my son went to the Avengers movie with his girlfriend and best friend.  

Chris (Iron Man), Makayla (Hulk), Matt (Captain America)

He had always liked Iron Man up to that point, but that movie created an obsession.

Suddenly everything was about Iron Man.

Chris in his tux for prom

Four days after he graduated from high school, we dropped him off at college.  His first assignment in his English class is to write about himself.  He wrote about Iron Man.

While Chris has been away at college, I've been collecting family history stories for my blogs.  Even though my husband is mostly English, he is one-fourth Swiss.  I was curious to see how far back his Swiss line went.  Turns out pretty far.  

Ignore where it says "Living." This is a record-keeping error.  I assure you they are no longer living.

I couldn't find any more information so I decided to quit and relax by watching my favorite show.

I picked a random episode on pbs.org and began to watch.  It was an episode I had seen before so I wasn't really paying close attention, it was more like background noise.  When suddenly I heard something that made me stop everything else I was doing.

Henry Louis Gates, Jr. said, "Your mother's mother's line goes back 600 years all the way back to the 1300's.  The oldest ancestor we were able to identify was Ruolf Guth, your sixteenth great grandfather."

Wait, what did he just say?  Didn't I just read that name?  I quickly went back to my husband's tree.  The names were spelled slightly differently but the years and places matched.  I looked a little further and sure enough, he was talking about the very same line.

Are you wondering who the celebrity was who Henry was speaking to?  

That's right.  Robert Downey, Jr.

As in, Iron Man.

I couldn't wait to call my son and tell him that his seventeenth great grandfather was the Iron Man's sixteenth.  His response?  "Cool." I think that is teenage code for "Wow!  How exciting that I'm related to the actor who portrays my most favorite comic book hero ever!"



You can watch the segment below.

Watch Robert Downey, Jr. and Maggie Gyllenhaal on PBS. See more from Finding Your Roots.

Ruolph Guttan (1370- )

My Son's Seventeenth Great Grandfather

Christopher William Pack --> Bradford William Pack --> Patsy (Pat) Marilyn Fresh Pack --> Marie Johanna Maurer Fresh --> Elise Bachofen Maurer --> Maria Paulina Gut Bachofen --> Johannes Gut --> Johannes Gut --> Johannes Gut --> Rudolf Gut --> Kaspar Gut --> Hans Heinrich Gut --> Hans Gut --> Hans Gut --> Jacob Gut --> Welthi Gut --> Hans Gut --> Klaus Gut --> Welti Gut Guttan--> Ruolph Guttan

A Certain Englishman Revealed

A few years ago a great thing happened with my husband's work and I posted about it on my Facebook page.  Someone at church congratulated him on his success.  This freaked Bradford out because he couldn't figure out how this person would know.  It freaked him out for another reason.  The information was confidential.  Oops!  My bad.

Bradford realizing I don't have enough sense to know what is okay and not okay to broadcast to 700+ friends, he made it very simple for me.  

"Don't mention me on Facebook."

"You got it.  I will not mention your name on Facebook."

How on earth am I supposed to talk about my life without talking about my best friend in the whole world?  I was stumped.  

While I was stumped I was also helping my son earn his Cub Scout belt loop for Heritages.  An excellent belt loop, by the way, I highly recommend you encourage your Cub Scout son or grandson to earn it.  One of the requirements was to create a family tree.  My son and I made a huge family tree that went back about 5 or so generations.  I thought it would be fun to see what country each branch came from.

See all those British flags?  That's Bradford's side.

I couldn't believe what I learned.  Bradford's father is full-blooded English.  Bradford's great grandfather was born in England and came to America when he was eight.  He then found someone in America, who was also 100 percent English.  But even more amazing, their son, also found a wife who was a full-blooded Englishwoman.  I began to do some math and discovered that my husband was 5/8 English. 

Anyone who knows my husband personally, knows that he's a very distinguished and proper man.  Just the other day we went to a work function on a Saturday.  A man said to him, "Wow, even when you dress down you still look formal."  It's true, he makes a t-shirt and jeans look like a business suit.

Once I informed our five children of their dad's heritage, the teasing began.  "Dad's English? We have to be proper around him!"  "Better not let Dad see you drink out of your cup wrong."  "Dad, are you going to make us starting having high tea?"  What was Bradford's response?

He'd imitate holding a tea cup and extend his pinky and yell, "Proper up!"  Then we'd all laugh.  We now call that our family gang sign.  We make the sign and either yell or whisper, depending on where we are, "Proper up."

Not mentioning my husband on Facebook was really cramping my style.  I realized that I had promised to not use his name, but technically I could still talk about him.  So I decided to call him "A Certain Englishman" realizing that no one would know who I was talking about.  In fact initially, many thought I was talking about Colin Firth.

As if.  My Englishman is way better looking.

I think it was a whole week before anyone figured out who I was really talking about.  But the nickname stuck and he's been A Certain Englishman ever since.  

Just don't tell Bradford.  He's way too dignified to have a nickname.

To read about me, a Certain Englishman's Wife, click here. 

To find out why my husband doesn't make me happy, click here.

Bradford William Pack

My husband

Bradford William Pack

From Cordwainer's Widow to Second Wife

Maria was 34 years old when she became a widow.  She had five girls ages 14 to 4, one son (Fred) age 2, and was 5 months pregnant with twins.  The baby girl survived, the boy was born still.

She and her daughters made a living by opening a store that sold fruit, candy, and second-hand items.  

She also continued her husband's shoe store.  Her husband had been a cordwainer, someone who makes shoes (a cobbler is someone who repairs shoes).  Her oldest two daughters dropped out of school so that they could trim the shoes with fancy bows and buckles and pack the shoes in boxes for shipment.

Do you have anything in purple?

Yes, please!

They lived in Northampton, just under 40 miles north of London.  Home of Mansfield Park.

The Pack family were members of the St. Andrews Church.  They attended their meetings faithfully.

I would too if my church looked like that.

Three years after her husband's death, she meet two LDS missionaries.  Henry Yates and Roland Tanner, both from Utah.

The Packs were baptized in August 1884, four years after Maria's husband died.

Two years later, in 1886, she took all of her children but one, Frances, and they sailed for America.  Frances stayed with an aunt and uncle who had been unable to have children.

She moved to Salt Lake City and worked several months cleaning a building still under construction.

Salt Lake Temple

In 1887 she moved to Clarkston, Utah and married the missionary who baptized her, Henry Yates.  She was his second wife.  Henry's first wife, Ann Bromwich, was unable to have children.  Maria had a boy with Henry and named him Henry Bromwich Yates.

Maria would make a trip to the post office and collect the mail for many friends and neighbors who lived on her street.  She then stopped at each home and called out "Mail!"but because of her English accent it sounded like, "Mile!"

She repaired the shoes of the townspeople and made pretty bonnets and flower baskets.

She wore a neat black dress with a frosted lace collar, a black hat trimmed in roses, a checkered waist apron, and a dark wool fringed shawl around her shoulders to protect her from the cold winds.

Here's something that I found in a newspaper archive that isn't in Maria's personal history.

March 29, 1891 - p. 1 under "Deputy Marshal's Arrests."
  "For some time past Mrs. Jane Marie Pack, alleged plural wife of 

Henry Yates has been wanted, and on Wednesday Deputy Corey arrested her 

at Clarkston.   She was released on furnishing $200 bail."

      --The Standard, March 29, 1891.

Don't worry, Maria, you are in good company.  

Maria Holton Pack(e) Yates (1846-1922)

My husband's second great grandmother

Bradford William Pack --> Clarence (Bill) William Pack II --> Clarence William Pack --> Frederick John Samuel Pack --> Maria Holton Pack(e) Yates

Punishment for Life

Patsy (Pat) Marilyn Fresh Pack

My husband's mother

Bradford William Pack --> Patsy (Pat) Marilyn Fresh Pack

When Pat was seven years old she was playing during morning recess at school.  As she jumped, her two blond pigtails would fly in the air.  And then she missed the sidewalk and fell hitting the curb face first.

Blood was everywhere.  The teachers didn't know what to do, so they iced her nose and kept her in school.  They didn't call Pat's mom.

After school, Pat had a piano lesson with Annis Call.  She knocked on the door, and Mrs. Call saw two black eyes and a very swollen nose.  "Patsy!" she exclaimed, "You look terrible!  You better go home."

So Patsy walked home and her mother took one look at her and almost died.  "What happened to you?"

Pat didn't want to admit that she was a klutz and had tripped on the curb.  So she did a very bad thing.  She lied.

"Someone pushed me on the playground at school." Her mom went to her grave believing that was true.

For years Pat struggled to breathe through her nose.  She finally had surgery done on her nose, but it only fixed one side.

Pat says, "It's my punishment for lying to my mother."

Amazing Grace

Frederick John Samuel Pack (1878-1971)

My husband's great grandfather

My husband, Bradford William Pack --> Clarence William (Bill) Pack II --> Clarence William Pack --> Frederick John Samuel Pack

In 1905, Fred was in Smithfield, Utah with his bride, Alice.  Their first child, Alice Constance, (Connie) was born just two weeks shy of their first wedding anniversary, on February 6.

That fall, Fred was cutting grain.  He came in contact with a poisonous weed and became blind.

I can't imagine how devastating this must have been for him and his family.  But I do have some idea, because for the next two months he went to many doctors including Dr. Parkinson in Logan Utah.  He paid $150 for his visit.

Do you know what $150 in 1905 would be today?

$3,947.37

Imagine if right now you had to spend that much money on a single doctor's visit.  That most likely was at least two months worth of income for him.  Fred was desperate to get his sight back.

Yet nothing worked, he was still blind.

His wife Alice didn't give up hope.  She hitched up the horse and buggy and drove her husband to the place where they were married, the Logan Temple.

She led Fred into the temple with his eyes bandaged.  Inside he was blessed by those holding the priesthood.    While their hands were still on his head, Fred began to see.  He walked out of the temple and drove the horse home.

The next day he went to work mowing hay.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me....

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind, but now, I see.