No Lack of Heroes Causing Lack of Posts

May is a crazy month at our house, hence the lack of posts in May.  Every May our family struggles to stay ahead of end-of-year activities at the three schools that the kids attend.  Last year I got ahead by writing several posts early and posting them weekly.  Not this year...

So I forgive myself and enjoy the week anyway.  I'll be back on track in June.  There is no lack of heroes, it's just a full life with the attendant responsibilities that come to a Mom with a large family. 

I find myself in the enviable position of being surrounded by my kids and grand-kids, with my parents along, on our family vacation to the beach.  The ocean waves rhythmically wash ashore outside my window just 40 feet away as I type this.  A day of body-surfing or boogie-boarding and sea shell collecting is unfolding as the kids awake and prepare for fun.  Observing the Sabbath yesterday at Church just heightened our anticipation to hit the surf today.  It will be our first time in the water since arriving on the South Carolina coast on Saturday afternoon. 

Arranging this weeks' vacation took stressful effort which, combined with the typical over-scheduled month, took all of my energy.  Was it worth it?  Oh yes.  No doubt!  The downer is that the hero blog is neglected.  Heroes go unnoticed.  But they will wait.  There are so many great lives to honor, I will forgive myself and enjoy the week.  Kids are slathering on sunscreen and gathering their swim gear.  Time to get back to the present and bask in this loving family.  It is my greatest blessing.

Photo is a view from our rental home courtesy of FindRentals.com. 

Priest Peter Whalen Ministers to Civil War Friend and Foe POWs

This weekend we visited Savannah with our kids.  We pulled them out of school for a family field trip to some excellent historical sites in Savannah and Tybee Island.  Among them, we visited Fort Pulaski, scene of a famous battle in the Civil War.  There I learned about a wonderful man named Peter Whalen who may have ministered to my ancestor David Earley languishing there.  (To read about David Earley's experience there, click here:  David Earley POW at Andersonville)

Peter Whalen was born in Ireland, but moved to Charleston, South Carolina where he was ordained a Priest in the Catholic faith in 1830.  Having moved to Savannah, Georgia, he was sixty years old when he volunteered to minister to the Confederate troops holding Fort Pulaski during the Civil War.  He arrived around September 1961.  As their Chaplain, he administered the Catholic rites and comforted the soldiers.  Slowly, Union forces cut off contact with outlying troops, causing more stress and discomfort among the soldiers.  It also severed his ability to return to Savannah, where he had been serving in the Catholic diocese.  For six months, Father Whalen lived the life of a soldier within the walls of Fort Pulaski.  Father Whalen also suffered the stresses of bombardment as the Union, using new rifled cannons, blasted a hole in Fort Pulaski over 30 hours of gunfire in April 1862.

Once Colonel Olmstead surrended the fort on April 11, 1862, the Confederate soldiers were divided up to be sent to POW camps.  Father Whalen was offered his freedom at this point, but refused, saying that 'his boys needed him.'  He went with one group to Governor's Island in New York to stay at Castle William POW camp.  Here, he found the soldiers barefoot and cold.  He quickly got food and clothing sent from Baltimore, Maryland, then from his friends in New York.  These friends petitioned that Father Whalen be released, as he was not a soldier but a clergy caught in the battle, and they agreed.  But when Father Whalen was offered his freedom again, he said no.  He wanted to stay with the boys who needed him more than ever now.   Instead he stayed with them until all of them were paroled or sent home in August 1863.

Returning home to Savannah, he assumed responsibility for the religious needs of all the Confederate forces serving throughout Georgia.  That commitment would be tested with his next assignment:  Andersonville Prison Camp.  

In May 1864, After Reverend William Hamilton happened upon Andersonville, requested entrance to see if any Catholics resided there, he was shocked at what he saw.  Seeing droves of filthy, starving men prompted him to write to the local Bishop Verot for someone to serve them.  In part, he wrote this in his letter,"…I found the stockade extremely filthy; the men all huddled together and covered with vermin (lice).… I found [the hospital] almost as crowded as the stockade. The men were dying there very rapidly from scurvy…diarrhea and dysentery…They were not only covered with the ordinary vermin but also maggots…they had nothing under them at all except the ground."  Bishop Verot asked Father Whelan to go to Andersonville, this time to minister to enemy POWs. 

Father Whelan arrived on 16 June 1964 and was equally horrified by conditions at Andersonville.  Writer Donald McClary wrote, "From dawn to dusk he heard confessions, ministered to the sick, and gave comfort and the Final Sacrament to the many dying.  Father Whelan was helped in his labors by other volunteer priests and Bishop Verot who visited Andersonville twice.  Protestant Union soldiers noted wryly in their diaries that the ministers of their own denominations were put to shame by the Christian love and charity shown by Father Whelan and the other priests.  Hearing of the work of Father Whelan Protestant ministers did eventually begin to come to Andersonville to assist the prisoners."

Although Father Whelan was able to bring in other ministers to help periodically, none of them stayed for the duration of the war.  Father Hamilton himself came for a time but quickly contracted illness and left at Father Whelan’s urging. 

Father Whelan was not interred at the POW camp, but slept a mile away in a small hut.  Every day, he walked willingly into the camp and ministered to the haggard and sickly inhabitants.  And as he had done in Castle William, he contacted his friends to gather food, clothing and supplies to distribute to the masses who needed them, a small drop in the bucket of an immense need. Many called him the 'Angel of Andersonville' because of his benevolence to all prisoners.  Others called him the 'Good Samaritan.'

Hearing that General Sherman was close to invading and liberating Andersonville, in August 1864, Father Whelan prepared to leave.  He borrowed $16,000 Confederate money (or $400 in gold) to buy enough flour to feed thousands.  With it, he bought 10,000 pounds of flour, which he had made into bread.  This came to be known as ‘Whalen’s bread’, which he had distributed to the prisoners in Andersonville.  For some, it was enough to hold them until the end of the war.  It was his last offering of help to those too destitute to care for themselves. 

October 1^st brought Sherman and the anticipated liberation of those left at Andersonville.  Father Whelan explained his leaving by saying, “I stayed until the vast portion of the prisoners were removed to other points.  I would have stayed longer if the prisoners had been retained.  My duties were those of a Catholic priest; nothing more.  I had no commission from the government; I went there voluntarily without pay or remuneration, further than merely to receive rations.”

With the movement of the prisoners, Father Whelan returned to Savannah once more to resume his duties there.  But with him, Father Whelan carried a cough from germs unavoidably caught while serving amongst the prisoners.  Private Henry M. Davidson of 1^st Ohio Light Artillery wrote of Father Whelan, “By coming here he exposed himself to great danger of infection… His services were sought by all, for, in his kind and sympathizing looks, his meek but earnest appearance, the despairing prisoners read that all humanity had not forsaken mankind.”

Although Father Whelan suffered from Tuberculosis (most likely) he continued to minister to his congregants until his death in 1871.  He even testified in defense of Captain Henry Wirz, the keeper of Andersonville prison camp, at his trial in 1865.    

McCreary summed it up nicely when he said, “In a time of bitter civil war Father Whelan ministered to both imprisoned friend and foe as his brothers in Christ.”  Father Peter Whelan ministered in the truest Christian manner, freely to all.  At a time in his life when most are easing into retirement, Whelan voluntarily lived and served among the lowliest of mankind in the worst prison camp in America's history. 

Works Cited

Chipman, Norton Parker. The Tragedy of Andersonville: The Trial of Captain Henry Wirz. Sacramento: Self Published, 1911. Print.

McClarey, Donald. The American Catholic: Priest of Andersonville. 21 April 2009. web. 6 May 2013.  http://the-american-catholic.com/2009/04/21/priest-of-andersonville/

Various. Wikipedia: Peter Whelan (priest). 9 April 2013. web. 6 May 2013.

Photo courtesy of Wikicommons

Elder John B. Dickson Uses His Disability to Help Others

Last week I wrote about an inspiring man who learned how to survive with only one arm.  His story brings to mind another great man with a similar disability.  Recently we were visiting family over the weekend of Semi-Annual General Conference.  Leaders from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints speak over two days of meetings, which are broadcast to chapels and over the internet.  We were grateful to be with family viewing these great talks.  

When Elder John B. Dickson rose to speak, my brother-in-law Brad mentioned that he was missing an arm.  That was surprising, as he looked completely whole in his nice suit.  Brad was aware of this because Elder Dickson had family in Brad’s area in Washington, and often visited.  I want to share the circumstances of his loss and its significance. 

John had a pretty ordinary life until his mission call to Mexico in 1962.  Born and raised in the church, he always planned to serve a mission.  In his preparation to serve, he learned he had cancer in the bone of his right arm.  His case was serious enough that his doctor didn’t think he’d survive the month.  His father gave him a Priesthood blessing, where John related “he blessed me with my life and that the mission call would be fulfilled, and that I would have a family and be able to serve the Lord all my days.” John proceeded with treatment, which involved amputating the arm.  Ten months after diagnosis, John left for Mexico to serve the Lord.

Far from complaining about his lost limb, he considers it a blessing.  “Losing my arm has proved to be one of the greater blessings in my life. I am more patient with other people because I have had to be patient with myself.  It has helped me to understand the necessity of our having challenges in life to help develop our character and stamina, helping us to become what the Lord ultimately wants us to become.”  Brad agrees, “He was a great inspiration to everyone who knew him because he never let his disability define him.”  It seems to me that he keeps his disability to himself, unless he can use his experience to help others.  

A few years ago in 2008, his experience gave him an opportunity to help another.  After a terrible accident, a member of John’s Stake named David faced a serious decision.  His left leg was severely damaged, so much so that cells were dying and infection was threatening David’s life.  When John visited David, this faithful member asked John, his former Stake President, for advice.  John replied by pulling up his right sleeve and revealing his stump.  He then advised him to do whatever it took to save his life.  David’s daughter Nichole said, “What a perfect man to be counseling dad on this life-altering decision.”  David chose to have his leg amputated to remove the problem.  It saved his life; David recovered well and is moving on with his life.  

John doesn’t advertise his disability, instead he takes the lessons learned from it to help others.  Using our trials to help others is one way to show our appreciation for the Savior, for all of the sacrifices He made for us.  Without Him and the hope His teachings and atonement give us, life would be really sad and empty.  Elder John B. Dickson sets a great example of faith and service as he moves ahead disregarding his disability.  He serves the Lord completely and inspires others to join him.   

Sources: 

Bullock, Nicole.  “Life or Limb?”  Cute Culture Chick.  21 Jan 2008.  Accessed 17 Apr 2013 at http://www.cuteculturechick.com/2008/01/life-or-limb/

Dickson, John B.  “Nobody Said That It Would Be Easy.”  October 1992 General Conference Priesthood Session.  lds.org

Photo courtesy of LDS Church

Paul Wittgenstein Didn't Let His Disability Stop his Dream

With Spring Break, an Eagle Project and a trip to see family, I have neglected to highlight heroes for a few weeks.  I'm back, with several new heroes in my pocket, ready to share.  As the tragedy at the Boston Marathon highlights, heroes are everywhere.  I'm happy to continue sharing their stories.  

I was surprised to hear on my local classical station the story of Paul Wittgenstein as an introduction to a lovely concerto.  Had I not been exposed to this little intro, I would have had a hard time believing that the piano portion of the composition was performed entirely with the left hand.  For Paul had the work composed for him, a one-armed concert pianist.

Paul was born in Vienna to a prosperous family.  They mingled with other musicians during a particularly active compositional phase in the history of music.  Showing early promise at the piano, Paul performed duets with Strauss, while just visiting with other famous composers like Labor, Brahms and Mahler when they visited his family.  After years of practice perfecting his technique, Paul debuted in Vienna as a Concert Pianist at the age of 25 in 1913.  Reviewers raved about his performances.  He had achieved his goal!  

Unfortunately, war broke out the next year.  Paul enlisted in the army and shipped off to the Eastern Front of World War 1.  He soon was shot and captured by the Russian army.  Awakening from surgery, he was stunned to see that his right arm was gone.  The bullet had pierced near the elbow; there was no other course than amputation due to the limited medical capabilities of the era.  

For a year, Paul recovered in a POW camp in Russia.  It was not just any POW camp; it was the infamous cold and dreary Omsk prison.  He must have had abundant time to consider his future as he lay in his cell healing.  What would he do?  He certainly couldn't ties his shoes, dress himself  or cut his own food by himself anymore.  

The bigger question may have been, 'Could he continue as a concert pianist?'  Fortunately it had been done before.  A man named Leopold Godowski had successfully rewritten compositions for play with just the left hand.  With determination, Paul found crates in the camp.  Stacking them to the height of a piano, he marked piano keys on the top crate with chalk and began practicing.  Hours and hours a day he used to practice the music he still heard clearly in his head.  At least he practiced the left hand of these complicated compositions.  And he tried to use his left hand to capture some of the right hand's notes.  

Trying to use one arm in place of two must have frustrated him.  Besides the pain of his injury, phantom pains in his missing arm, and the trauma of war and an uncertain future, he couldn't see how he could perform the current music he was accustomed to playing.  He wrote to his old friend Josef Labor begging him to write him some music that could be played solely with the left hand.  Blind and obliging, Labor wrote back that after hearing of Paul's' injury, he had already begun a composition for his friend.  While Paul recovered and practiced, Labor composed.  

Biographer Alexander Waugh wrote,  "Day after day and for hour upon hour, he addressed himself to this arduous and improbable task, tapping his freezing fingers on the wooden box, listening intently to the imagined music sounding in his head and creating, in the corner of a crowded festering invalids' ward, a tragicomic spectacle that aroused the sympathy and curiosity of his fellow prisoners and all the hospital staff."

After a visitor witnessed  Paul 'play' the crates in silence with his one arm, Paul was released to a hotel with a piano, then later released back to Austria as part of a prisoner exchange.  Amazingly, he reenlisted to serve in the war until it ended in 1918.  

In the meantime, Paul enlisted more composers to write music for him.  Dozens of pieces were composed for him, the most famous by Maurice Ravel titled "Piano Concerto for the Left Hand."  I think this is the one I heard on the radio the other day—a lovely piece that could hardly be noticeably different than the others utilizing two hands.  Perhaps that's because Paul had by now altered these compositions as creatively as possible to replicate normal play.  

Biographer Blake Howe explained, "Wittgenstein was keenly interested in training his left hand to manage the work of two hands, designing a repertoire of novel techniques to accommodate the many instances where such a conversion would otherwise appear to be physically impossible."

Paul wasn't going to come back to the music world as a one-armed but average performer.  He wanted to be excellent and on par with all musicians, two armed included.  He practiced and perfected his techniques, becoming once again the renown performer that he was before the war.  It must be noted that some of his renown was due to his status as the 'one armed pianist.'  Paul spent his life rejecting the pity often found even in the headlines of his performances.  The headline 'One Armed Pianist Performs' must have really irritated him.  

Howe wrote that "contemporary reviews of Wittgenstein's live performances were almost universally positive – gushingly and enthusiastically so, with frequent reports of standing ovations and multiple encores. Such critical praise, however, was tempered by condescension, as reviewers struggled to make sense of the incongruity posed by Wittgenstein's physical disability."

Paul Wittgenstein rose above his injury, persevered in his quest to become a world-class concert pianist.  Not even the loss of an arm stopped him.  Today his example is an inspiration to all who suffer from accidents and illnesses that threaten their way of life.  For me, he shows that with determination, one can do more with one hand than many do with two! My two hands included!

Sources: 

90.1 FM Broadcast (from memory) 4/15/2013

Business News:  A Musicians Determination And Acclaim.  Found on 4/17/2013 at http://www.healio.com/orthotics-prosthetics/prosthetics/news/print/o-and-p-business-news/%7B52beae61-3d8b-48b7-b75b-934c5f13cb56%7D/a-musicians-determination-and-acclaim

Wikipedia:  Paul Wittgenstein.  Updated 1 April 2013; accessed 17 April 2013. 

See the YouTube Video of Paul performing Ravel's piece in 1933.  

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.  

 

Vere Hodges Johnson Made Many Smiles

Gerald Simmons lay uncomfortably in the dental chair, unsure of what he was hearing.  Dr. Johnson was leaning over him, tools in hand, murmuring unhappily.  “Gerald, why it’s the darndest thing.  In all my years of dentistry, I have never seen anything quite like this,” Dr. Johnson repeated.  “It looks almost like one of your back molars at some time has come in contact with a strong electric current.”  As this registered with Gerald, his expression changed from alarm to understanding and he relaxed.  Dr. Johnson started to laugh as only he could. 

Relieved, Gerald chuckled too—Dr. Johnson’s laugh was far too infectious to avoid joining in.   

His memory went back to that summer day when he was a boy so many years ago.  He and his twin brother Darold thought the world of Vere Johnson, a neighbor boy just a few years older than they.  They all lived in the small rural town of Beaver Dam, Utah.  Often,  they went to see what Vere was up to, and did their best to shadow him and do whatever he was doing.  Even though the two little boys almost certainly got in his way, Vere never sent them away.  Instead, he teased them and paid attention to them.   They loved being with Vere.  He laughed all the time.  It was just plain fun to be with him. 

One day when they were shadowing Vere on an errand, they came to an electric fence along the way.  Vere got that distinct twinkle in his eye Gerald and Darold learned to avoid.  Vere asked them how tough they were.  “Are you tough enough to bite an electric fence?” Vere asked.  Vere cupped his hands close to the fence and pretended to bite between his hands, so they couldn’t tell he wasn’t really biting the fence.  Gerald and Darold knew they could do it too.  Gerald leaned in quickly, mouth wide open and clamped his teeth onto the fence.  The electric shock proved that Vere had gotten them again!  And Vere’s accompanying laugh all the way back to their house rang in their ears.  Vere had tricked them into other scrapes as well— once he sent them in to the chicken coop to look for a skunk with clothespins on their noses.  “There’s no tunk but there’s plenty of tink,” they reported, a statement Vere repeated with relish for years to come.  There were other little boys who liked to follow Vere around; they were treated to greased ears (don’t want to catch brain fever) or taught to swim by being roped and thrown into a river, or hung up in the barn by their overhauls.  

After these kinds of pranks as kids, why did Gerald trust Vere Johnson, now Dr. Johnson, to take care of his teeth?  Could he trust a man who got such a kick out of teasing people to not take advantage of him?  Gerald, like many others, had decided that Vere was the most honest dentist in Cache Valley and Gerald wouldn’t go to any other dentist.  Dr. Johnson’s rates were the lowest and he didn’t do work that wasn’t necessary.  It was hard to get an appointment with Dr. Johnson because he was booked up solid six months ahead.  

Indeed, Vere had discussed his fees with his wife, Winnie Johnson.  She often heard how the other dentists in the area were angry with Vere because his prices were so low.   He’d tell her, “I don’t have to answer to those other dentists about what I charge my patients.  I know what my expenses are and I make a good living.  I don’t have to gouge my patients to be in line with what my profession charges.  I only have to answer to God and my own conscience for how I run my business.” 

Kathy, Vere’s daughter, worked for him for a few years, recording the charges for services rendered.  She explained, “Bitewing x-rays were $4, there were three different charges for fillings, depending on the size: $4, $8 and $12.  There was never any charge for a check-up if no work was needed.  I remember a time when a family came in with 10 children.  All, including the parents, were checked, which took most of the morning and none had any work needing to be done, so there was absolutely no charge to that family.  It isn’t any wonder that my dad was booked every 15 minutes.  He called the office ‘the salt mine’ because he was so pressed by people there.  People would come from Alaska and California to have him do their dental work because they could pay for their whole trip and stay a week in Utah and have spent less than going to a dentist where they lived.  I remember Dad saying that wisdom teeth were usually the easiest to extract.  There was usually no expense to the dentist to do the extracting.  He only used a little Novocain and an extraction tool.  He was angry when he heard what other dentists charged.”

Indeed, Dr. Johnson charged far less than the average dentist.  According to a study published in the American Dental Association about this time, other dentists charged $5 on average for an exam and an average of $10 for a one surface filling and $22 for a three surface filling at the time.[1]  Dr. Johnson charged nothing for an exam and about half of the other figures.

“What an extraordinary man was my father,” Kathy continued, “How little the world and greed controlled his decisions.”

Gerald Simmons' wife emotionally explained her husbands’ love for Vere, saying that he truly idolized Vere all of his life.  When Gerald wrote his personal life history, he named Vere as one of three heroes he had as a child growing up.  She said how sad it was for them to miss Vere’s funeral, as they were serving a Temple Mission in Nauvoo when he died.  She expressed how much Vere meant to herself and to her husband and how she still missed Dr. Johnson after all these years since his retirement.  “I still can’t bring myself to go to another dentist,” she said.  She made this statement some 25 years after he retired.  

Vere clearly had a sense of humor and teased his friends and associates.  This was one of Vere’s many endearing traits.  Many found his honesty and fairness made him the most trusted dentist in Cache Valley.   Combined, this made a visit to the dentist an enjoyable experience.  A family friend made this statement:  "When Dr. Johnson attends, the pain is gone, the patient smiles."  Indeed all who interacted with Vere Johnson, either as a friend or a Dentist, always left with a smile.  Proverbs 17:22 reads, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.”  Over the years, Vere shared a great deal of merriness that was indeed good medicine for all of us who knew and loved him.

---

[1] L. Jackson Brown, D.D.S., Ph.D.; Vickie Lazar, M.A., M.S., Dental Procedure Fees 1975 Through 1995: How Much Have They Changed?  Journal of the American Dental Association, Vol. 129, September 1998, pp. 1291-1295.

Sources:  

Thatcher, Kathy Johnson.  Email correspondence March 2009.

Mary Elizabeth Doxey (Mamie), Mother to Many Children

Mamie must have been surprised when Jack Donaldson came to the door and asked to see her.  Mamie’s father had been encouraging Jack to remarry after the death of his wife; Mamie had heard him over dinner for the last several months talk about how concerned he was about Jack’s situation.  Jack had 7 young children.  Mamie remembered she had gone with a friend and gathered flowers for his wife at her death.  For well over a year now, Jack and his boys had been 'baching it' alone while his girls lived with his mother-in-law.  He needed to remarry to provide himself with a wife and his children with a mother, Mamie’s dad concluded. 

Mary Elizabeth Doxey, or “Mamie” to her friends and family, was born in 1892 into a faithful Latter-day Saint family in Ogden Utah.  She was the second daughter in a family of 10 children.  Her mother had said Mamie was ‘her right arm and stand-by,’ relying on her help in caring for the children in their large family.  She also loved to work outside with her father and brothers on their 14 acres of farmland and pastures, becoming a tom-boy of sorts, strong and sturdy.  Although by her own account a poor reader and speller, Mamie did well in school and began nurses training at Weber Academy.  That study ended suddenly in November 1910.

When Mamie was 18 years old, her dear mother died after contracting typhoid fever.  It happened in just a few weeks.  Mamie and the older girls in her family regrouped, taking care of the children.  Nellie, the oldest was 20 years old, while Jack, the youngest wasn’t yet a year old.  Nellie married soon afterward, leaving Mamie the bulk of the responsibility.  For the next 10 years, Mamie took on the responsibilities that had been her Mothers.  She tried to follow her Mother’s pattern in taking care of their home and raising the children.  

Mamie’s father showed his gratitude for the help she gave him by often saying, ‘what would I have done if the Lord hadn’t given me my girl?’  The family recovered from the grief of losing their mother, largely due to Mamie’s hard work and attention to the children.  

It was hard work caring for such a large family.  Mamie missed out on many of the activities her friends were enjoying.  But she was happy at home caring for her family, where she knew she was needed.  The first time she was able to spend a day away with her friends was 6 years after her mother had passed away!  As she watched her younger sisters Verna, Florence, and Alfarata (Olva) all marry and move on with her lives, she took satisfaction from their successes, just as a mother would.  “Is it worth it?”  Mamie probably wondered periodically.  She may have wondered if she'd every marry as she aged.  Remembering how grateful her father was for her help probably settled everything in her mind again.

More grief followed when Mamie’s sister Nellie died, leaving a baby behind.  Mamie took that baby in and raised her along with the rest of her siblings.  Her younger sister Verna lost her husband in a train accident, leaving her a young widow with two young children.  Mamie took those kids in during the day, allowing Verna to work to support her family.  Mamie was doing just fine, happily filling the needs she saw in her home.  

Now here Jack was, asking for her at the door.  John Kissell Donaldson, or Jack as he was affectionately called, knew a good thing when he saw it.  He had seen how Mamie had taken care of her siblings in their grief, he was sure she would help him and his children now.  Jack was ready to remarry.  What would Mamie’s father think?  Jack was taking his advice by courting his daughter!  

Understandably, Mamie was wary.  Did she want to get mixed up with this man and all of his children?  Seven of them!  But when she was with him, she felt good.  She knew she loved him from their first date.  Although her 10-year-old brother, whom she raised from infancy, called her 'Mama' still, she was confident that her own family could manage without her.  And besides, she may never get another chance to marry, now that she was older. 

After considering everything, Mamie accepted Jack’s affections on one condition:  that he become sealed in the Temple in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to his first wife beforehand.  Jack and his first wife Hazel had only been married civilly although both were members of the church.  Knowing Mamie’s unalterable resolve, Jack took the steps necessary to do so.  Taking the children with him, he went to the Ogden temple in March 1920 and was sealed to Hazel and his children.  Meanwhile, Mamie received her Patriarchal blessing.  In it, she was told, “the labors of thy … ministry thus far have pleased the Lord.  Thou shalt be crowned with thy blessings, not only as a chosen daughter, but as an honored mother in Israel.”  This was the right thing to do and Mamie was ready to give it her best effort.

Jack and Mamie were married on November 10, 1920 and Mamie began caring for her new family.  Mamie delivered 10 children of her own and raised them all to adulthood, with the exception of her first child Ralph, who died shortly after delivery.  Many were raised during the depression, adding to the difficulty of feeding and clothing such a large family.   

All told, Mamie raised 23 children to adulthood—7 siblings, 7 step children and 9 children.  Many other children, including her nieces, nephews, and grand children spent a considerable amount of time in her home and under her care.  No wonder that her children described her as a 'peace-maker, soft as velvet on the outside but inside she was made of steel!'

Mamie’s own siblings might say that young Mamie made mistakes as she urged them to do their chores, sat them down to do their homework and reminded them to make their beds.  Mamie’s step-children might say that she made mistakes as she sent them outside to chop firewood, off to school or work, or into the kitchen to help make dinner.  Mamie’s own children might also say that she made mistakes as she sent them to school, reminded them to brush their teeth and sent them indoors to do their chores.  No mother is perfect; the idea would make all mothers cringe with the guilt of unmet expectations.  With so many children to care for, it’s inconceivable that it could be done perfectly.  

What is remarkable, though, is that Mamie was willing to take mother-less children under her protection and ‘mother’ them the best she knew how.  Twice, she accepted the responsibility and performed to the best of her ability.  Step-daughter May said, “I think of how hard my mother worked.  I’ve never seen such a hard worker than she was.  My dad and she didn’t have too much.  We all had to kind of go without.  But we got by because they sacrificed.  They raised a family to be proud of.  We all turned out good for a family that large.” 

May continued, “I’m so glad my stepmother married my dad.  I don’t know what would have happened to us if she hadn’t married my dad.  We’ve had our ups and downs, but she has been so good.   [I didn’t realize it at the time, but] she was my best friend.” 

Imperfect Mary Elizabeth Doxey, or Mamie, welcomed children into her home, giving her best to the task of raising them. 

Sources:

“The Life of John Kissell Donaldson” Unknown author and date.  12 Pages

Donaldson, Mary Elizabeth Doxey.  "Autobiography" Unknown date.  1 Page.

Quinn, Ted D.  The Economic History of the Donaldson Family & America, 1831-1975.  Term Paper.  Provo:  Brigham Young University, 1990.  Print.

West, May Donaldson.  "May Donaldson West:  An Autobiography." Ed. by Melanie Jensen Johnson.  North Carolina:  Lulu.com.  2009.  Print.