Christmas Letter 2015

It’s Christmas again and time for my annual letter to my cherished great-grandchildren.

A few days ago, I became painfully aware of how dusty my curio cabinets where I keep my “treasures” were and asked my housekeeper, Dee Dee, to see if she could spend some time with me cleaning, making the things that really mean something to me look better. Of course, Dee Dee agreed, and we began the task of cleaning inside and out.  It took us nearly one whole day, with Dee Dee cleaning and me supervising.

While doing this dusty, dirty and smelly job I began to think about my Christmas letter to you and chose this event from my past to tell you.  Perhaps because this is a SMELLY story!

 Grandpa Dean and I were volunteers at the Jordan River Temple, and at one time in our service, Grandpa was assigned to open the temple for the workers.  One morning very early, we ran over a skunk which had already been hit and killed by a car.  It was lying dead in the road. Well, it still STUNK==that SKUNK!  And it still smelled on our car, even as long as two weeks later.  That incident brought to my mind another skunk story…from my childhood.

My family lived in a pretty ramshackle farm house on the very edge of a forest.  The Little Cottonwood Creek ran through our property, and that was pleasant thing.   BUT…. in this minor forest lived, in addition to poison ivy, SKUNKS!  That was NOT A GOOD THING.  However, mostly, if we left them alone, they left us alone. This particular day, I was walking down the path toward my home.   Just as I left "the forest", I stepped onto the bridge dividing the forest from "civilization" a full-grown, adult SKUNK STEPPED ONTO THE BRIDGE.  He had no doubt been foraging for food on the human side of the bridge.  We both stopped dead in our tracks, hardly breathing.  I was terrified! I knew skunk spray could stay with you for a long time.  What if this skunk decided to spray me?!   He, I am sure, was just as nervous as I was. What if I decided to do him harm as nearly all humans were wont to do?!  We looked at each other, never moving a hair, for what seemed like 15 minutes. In reality, I am sure it was only two or three. Then the skunk stepped off the bridge on to the creek bank and walked into the "never-never land” of the forest.

As I tell you this account of my encounter with a skunk, I am still experiencing butter-flies in my stomach. You can believe I NEVER NEVER want to be in the same county, let-a-lone on the same foot bridge with a SKUNK--even a kind one like I met that day.

I don't believe a letter to my great-grandchildren, no matter what story from my past was told, would be complete without my telling you how much I love you, how proud I am of you, and most of all, bearing my testimony to you. You can believe this: the gospel is true. Jesus lives and loves us. He is the Son of God, and under the Father's direction, is in charge of this world, and perhaps many, many more. Our salvation, mine, yours and the salvation of those we've lived with, loved, and planned to spend eternity with depends on our faithfulness to Him and His Gospel. Be good, keep His commandments.

I love you.

Great-Grandma Bateman

Christmas Letter 2014

December 2014

Dear ,

Well here it is another Christmas, and time for me to send my self-imposed letter to you. 

As I have pondered what I might say to you, without being too repetitious, I had the thought that maybe you would like to know a little more about your ancestral home—this old house.  So I decided to tell you what I know.  This home was completed in 1889, at which time William Lehi Bateman moved his family into it. William Lehi Bateman is your paternal three-great grandfather.  One of his sons, Thomas Philip Bateman, 14-years-old at the time they moved into the house, is your Great-Great-Grandfather and the second owner and occupant of the home. 

William Lehi and his wife, Sophronia, build, lived in, and raised 12 children, plus four foster children in the home.  Phil (commonly known) and Josie (commonly known) raised 10 children, one of which was your great-grandfather, Dean Wilson Bateman, in this home.  Dean fell heir to the home soon after I became his wife and he and I, Dean Wilson and Sybil Greer Bateman, raised five children in this home.  We shared it with Phil and Josie until their deaths.  They lived on one side of the house and we lived on the other.  Early on Josie still had use of the upstairs, but as our children grew, the upstairs became part of our side of the house.  There have been, on occasion, others of the family living here, but none have owned it save William Lehi and his posterity, until Dean’s death, when I fell heir to it through marriage.

When the house was built, it was considered a large and fancy home.  It consisted of two floors: kitchen, dining room, parlor, master bedroom on the ground floor.  Upstairs, three bedrooms.  You will notice the absence of bathrooms.  There were no closets, storage rooms, bathrooms, extras of any kind.  The walls were and are thick, made of adobe brick in order to help with heat in the winter and cool in the summer.  Later the summer kitchen was added and eventually divided to make a porch and accommodate a bathroom and small bedroom on Dean and my side of the home. Finally, the two wings (bedrooms) on the north and the south. 

I’ll tell you a rather funny, but true, story.  There used to be an apple orchard across the hollow.  “Across the hollow” was a space designation used then and now.  It is the other side of the deep ravine that ran through the farm and had at its west end a warm water spring that was eventually turned into a pond, which you can see today if you drive through the subdivision.  One year there was a bumper harvest of apples.  Since there was no place to store them and since the apples could be used to help feed the myriad people who, at any time could actually be living in the home, the apples were dumped loose in one of the bedrooms upstairs.  I’ve been told that the apples just about filled the—top to bottom and side to side!  “Necessity is the mother of invention!” It became a storeroom and not a bedroom for at least that year. And I’ve been told that the family ate apple everything until they were so tired of apples that they could hardly look at them! 

On that note it is time to end this Christmas letter and remind you once again that you must always remember how very much you are loved by me and by our HEAVENLY FATHER and HIS SON JESUS CHRIST. 

Great Grandma, Sybil

Christmas Letter -2012

This was Grandma's rough draft that we usually retyped, but Michael expressed a desire to have the original because it was "Grandma" 

Christmas Letter - 2013

Christmas 2013

Dear «Name_2»,

Well here it is Christmas again, and it seems like I barely finished writing you a letter for 2012. At this moment, I’m trying to think of some interesting story from my or Grandpa’s earlier days. But, first, I want to tell you once again that the gospel is true, and those who follow the path will be richly blessed by our Father In Heaven. Don’t take my word for it; test it yourself. You must be willing to really test it with an open mind and open heart. And you must remember always that your life will not be trouble-free. Troubles are part of our schooling. Problems teach us how to deal with and solve greater problems – good and bad. It would be my dearest wish that all my posterity could – and would – come to that path. There are not two complete and righteous paths – just one.

Now, I have decided on a story from my youth which I think you will be interested in. All of you (MOST of you) like horses, or, at least you like to RIDE horses. So, this is a horse story that really happened:

When I was about 14 or 15 years old, we lived on a very small farm in what was an old beat-up farm house. We had an old boar and one horse, pastured together because we only had one pasture. One night the horse and the boar got in a fight. I don’t remember what happened to the pig, but I don’t remember seeing it after we discovered there had been a fight, maybe the horse killed it with its hooves, or maybe my Dad got rid of him. I don’t remember why we had him in the first place.

Anyway, the horse was wounded in several places from the boar’s big ugly tusks. One of the wounds was located on his left hind leg almost on his hoof, but, it wouldn’t have been a wound on a hoof. The hooves are bone. This particular wound had become infected, and was full of crawling, sickening maggots… WORMS AND HORSES!!

I felt so sorry for the horse; he was actually a very good horse, but the maggots were terrible!

So I asked the vet what could be done for the poor horse, this is what he told me to do, and I did it twice a day. Morning and afternoon I took a pair of tweezers and an empty can to the pasture where the horse was. I was a little scared at first because I didn’t know if the horse would let me near him and let me pick the maggots out. You should have seen how that horse reacted to my being there and sticking the tweezers in his wound. He stood as quiet as a lamb and never even moved his foot until I was through.

I wish I could remember the horse’s name, but I can’t so he’ll just have to be “the horse”. Needless to say, he healed in a week or so, and I survived the ordeal with maggots. And that’s the end of the horse story for this time. Someday I’ll tell you all the stories about horses. Meanwhile……..

HAVE A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

AND

REMEMBER THAT I LOVE YOU

Great-Grandma Bateman

Christmas Letter -2011

Dear ,

     It’s that time again.  Merry Christmas!  And may this Christmas be your very best so far.  As the year comes to a close it is time for me to think about and express my gratitude to my Heavenly Father for the richness and abundance of His blessings to me.  One of my most cherished blessings is my posterity.  YOU are a part of that.  You, my great-grandchild are a treasure.  You are a member of a wonderful group now numbering 93, ages 25 years through just a few months.

     This year your parents are receiving a special gift from me and I want you to know why they are receiving it.  When I was just a little girl I lived in Salt Lake City.  My older sister, Lois, would walk me down to the library and we would check out books.  When I was a little older I went by myself.  The book, Little Black Sambo, was the first book I ever remember reading to myself.  I don’t know how old I was, but I always did very well in school, so I know I was young.  I loved that book and read it many times.  Then when I was older I would tell the story to my own children.  Every one of your grandparents, that is one of my children, will remember hearing me tell that story.  I had it memorized so I didn’t even have to read it to them.  I have told it and read it to many of you, too.  When you come to see me next time ask me to read it to you again, if you’d like.

     I want to share another story with you about something I did and that Kent, Wayne, and Brenda did, too.  Kent was probably seven, Wayne and his cousin Doug were going on six, and Brenda would have been 4 and a half.  The three boys got hats, cap guns, and little vests for Christmas that year.  I knew this song: I Didn’t Know the Gun was Loaded.  I got it in my head that the 4 kids could perform it at our big Bateman Family Christmas Party; since we would have the kids perform at the party.  I borrowed the little skirt, vest, and hat for Brenda from Grandpa Bateman’s sister, Joy.  The boys sang the verses, and Brenda would sing the chorus sweetly as she batted her eyes. On the last chorus she would try to gruff up her voice so she was singing rough and harsher.  The night of the family party they were so charming, they became an overnight sensation with the adult family members clamoring for them to perform in their venues, usually ward parties.  They performed several more times and were a marvelous hit each time.  I’ll bet you didn’t know I was a show business premotor! On the back of this letter you will find the song!

     This Christmas there are some gifts that you can give to me.  Mend a quarrel, seek out a friend, write a letter, give a soft answer, keep a promise, find the time, forgive an enemy, listen, apologize, be kind, be gentle, laugh, then laugh some more, be glad, gladden someone else’s heart, speak love.  Life isn’t a matter of milestones, but of moments.  “Fill each unforgiving moment with sixty seconds worth of distance run…” (From IF, by Rudyard Kipling)

     Always remember who you are-a son or daughter of God-and conduct your life in accordance with that immeasurable blessing.  You may never know when or if you are making a memory for someone.  Live so the memories bring positive thoughts.  I love you so much, my daily prayers include you.  May the Miracle of His Birth light your path now and throughout the coming year. 

Love, Great Grandma Bateman

 

Oh, Miss Ellie was her name

Through the west she won her fame

Being handy with a gun,

But she drove the men insane

Cause she’d whip out her pistol

And shoot most any guy

And sing out this alibi…

CHORUS:

I didn’t know the gun was loaded

And I’m so sorry my friend

I didn’t know the gun was loaded

And I’ll never, never do it again!

Oh, one night she had a date

With a wrestling heavy weight

And he tried a brand new hold

She did not appreciate

So she whipped out her pistol

And shot him in the knee

Then quickly she sang this plea…

CHORUS:

 

Oh, one night she made a slip

Shot the sheriff in the hip

So the law took a hand

And made Ellie take the stand

But she pled, (spoken)

Your honor, I know you’ll turn me loose

When you hear my one excuse…

CHORUS:

Oh the jury all agreed that

Miss Ellie should be freed

But the sheriff’s jealous wife

Was indignant, yes indeed.

So she borrowed a shotgun

And shot this village belle

Then sang as Miss Ellie fell…

CHORUS:

Christmas Letter 2010

December  2010

Dear ,

HI!  It’s that time of year when I again take the opportunity to write to each of my great-grandchildren with a Christmas greeting and an expression of my love for you.  I do love each and every one of you, and would feel blessed to see you each day, but that is impossible, so this letter must suffice.  Nevertheless, it comes with my affection and concern for you.

You are my cherished great-grandchildren and I hope at this best of all seasons that you are well, happy, and healthy.  I have been having a few health problems, but I’m still “up-and-around” and think I’m doing better.  I want you to know that I am very, very grateful for the many, many blessings I receive every day.  Heavenly Father has been and is very good to me.  One of those blessings, perhaps my greatest blessing, is my family who help to care for me and visit me and love me.  And that includes you.  Thank you for your visits and help and concern. 

I so wish I could send you a big gift, wrapped in pretty paper and a big bow.  (You know, it was one of my great joys to wrap beautiful presents to put under the tree.  I was very good at it.  Did you know that to wrap those presents I had used paper and used ribbon.  Still I would take time to make every box as pretty as it could be.) But I cannot, so my gift to you is a story and the assurance of my love.  This will help you know Grandpa and me and help you know about your own family history. 

When I was very young, maybe four or five, I sat down to write my Christmas gift list to Santa Claus.  When I was finished (I suppose there was every wish a little girl could think of on it) I showed it to my mother.  Her comment was, “My, that’s a lot of things for one little girl.  You know Santa has lots and lots of girls and boys to give presents to.”  I was a little discouraged, but she said that we would send it anyway.  She took the letter and said she would mail it for me.  I spent the rest of the time until Christmas worrying whether I would get all the things I had asked for, and, if not, which I would receive.  It was exciting and worrisome all at the same time.  Guess what?!  As always Santa was his usual wonderful, loving, unselfish, miraculous self!  When I awoke on Christmas morning, I found under the tree a beautiful table, a cupboard, dishes and silverware (little girl size), and a doll who could open and shut her eyes and had “real” hair.  It was everything any little girl could possibly wish for and it swelled my heart with happiness.  Brenda’s family has that cupboard to this day, and Diana’s family has what is left of the dishes and silverware, for they were china dishes and real metal silverware. 

Now I will tell you a story from Grandpa’s youth.  His mother and father and the ten children lived in the very same house I live in now and where Grandpa and I spent essentially our whole

married lives.  It was the Great Depression and almost everyone was very poor.  Grandpa’s family was also very poor.  They were lucky because they did have enough to eat since they lived on a farm.  But Christmas presents were out of the question.  Your grandpa, Dean, and his closest brother, Dale were young boys.  They wanted a sled for playing in the snow.  I’m sure they asked for it, but I am just as sure their parents, Phil and Josie, knew they could never provide it.  Christmas morning arrived and the boys came down the stairs to find under the tree a brand new Radio Flyer sled.  Only one, to share.  Thrilled, they grabbed that sled and headed for the big hill on the north, the one we call Turpin’s Hill.  I’m sure they never thought at the time where that sled had come from, but they did later and it was a sweet and tender memory all of their lives.  Their big sister, LuRee had bought that sled for them.  She was teaching school at the time and had a little money so she was Santa Clause that year.  Both Grandpa and his brother Dale loved that sled and LuRee for caring about them so much.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

The spirit of Santa Clause is the spirit of love that comes from every child, every adult, every person who loves others and tries to make another’s life happier.  That love is light and that light comes from our Heavenly Father who loves us and wants us to love and help each other.  My wish is that all year long, but especially at this time of year when we celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ, each of us will remember that Christmas is truly about LOVE.  Let’s spread that love around.  Let’s keep Christ in Christmas and in our lives this year. 

I love you!  Merry Christmas!!

Great-Grandma Bateman