Jones Family History

Note: If you read Amy's blog, you may get a dejavu feeling while reading this because I'm lazy and decided to plaigerize her (I'm hoping she won't sue - ha!ha!) on some parts (the facts/stories), but the rest is mine.

Amy and I went to visit my mom's parents Tuesday afternoon. We regularly go for lunch and a visit -- the kids love it (pictures coming in the next post).

While there, my grandpa gave each of us copy of this picture.

His grandparents and all of their children. His dad is the third from the right in the back row, with the handsome swirl of hair. I must say he's the most handsome of the bunch and he looks just like Grandpa in his younger days (I picked him out right away).

And then Amy and I sat while Grandpa told stories about these aunts & uncles he knew well. 10 boys, 2 girls.

Bill had Tuberculosis in a time when that meant confinement in a room built separate from the house. The two sisters brought food back to his room regularly, but both were weakened and died fairly young of the same disease, one without ever having married.

Doctor was given his name simply because he was the seventh consecutive son. Apparently that was commonly done (with some biblical origin?), an interesting tidbit that I have never heard. But I suppose there simply aren't so many seventh consecutive sons born these days.

Dudley's wife died young, leaving 5 small children. He remarried and had 12 more for a total of 17. His oldest daughter was born on the precise day that Arizona gained statehood - February 14, 1912. She is still living in the valley.

When asked what his grandpa was like the answer was: "He was the best darn fellow you ever did meet." That status was apparently gained partially due to his Model T Ford, which he once let his 9-year-old grandson drive. Some things really don't change within a single century. Hero status amongst a 9-year-old boy still takes that same route.

Amy asked what his grandma was like. Apparently, she was quiet...people sometimes thought her grouchy. We looked at this picture and concurred that this woman was tired. And there was no time for nonsense. She obviously raised a clean, sharp family of 14, and actually managed to get a picture of them taken in the 19-0something's. And that sure seems like something huge (which I totally understand having just gotten pictures of my small family of five).

About a month ago, Arizona had a regional conference in which one of the speakers (I unfortunately don't remember who) spoke about Arizona's beginnings. I was beaming inside with pride as he retold stories of Daniel Webster Jones. Grandpa's grandpa (the father in the picture above) was the son of Daniel Webster Jones, who came to Arizona in 1877.

In addition to translating the BOM into Spanish, Daniel Webster Jones was sent by Brigham Young to settle Arizona. A group of saints had recently returned from a trip to Mexico and they reported to President Young that they had almost perished along the way due to the fact that Arizona was "uninhabitable." Some people still say that today (Nate during the summer). This group found no water and were in bad condition when they prayed to the Lord for help. Soon there was a fall of rain and snow, depositing plenty of water for the cattle and to fill up their barrels. In the morning they were refreshed and headed back to Salt Lake. When asked by Brigham Young what he thought of that, Dan answered:

"I would have filled up, went on, and prayed again."

Brother Brigham replied, putting his hand on Dan, "This is the man that shall take charge of the next trip to Arizona."

And so he did, settling in Lehi with his family, making me a 5th generation Arizona native. I love hearing stories about family history and knowing about the people that came before me. That afternoon with Grandma and Grandpa telling us stories was priceless and I am grateful to have the picture and the stories to go along with it.

Heritage

These past few months, I have had wonderful experiences that have made me more grateful for my heritage. A few months ago I started entering my genealogy and researching names and finding a few that needed work done. Then, my mom was cleaning out her apartment and turned four boxes of "genealogy" over to me for Amy & I to go through. Lovely. Well, over the past few weeks, I've sorted through and organized and really enjoyed it. Looking at pictures of people I know are related to me and wondering what their lives were like is magical. I even found one photo of a man who is a relative of mine with the exact same jaw structure -- no doubt taken from Grandma Hendrix's home after she died.

Then, this weekend I had two more fabulous experiences.

First, for months my Grandma Jones has been planning a day trip to Cherry, AZ, to show us where she grew up. So this Saturday, we trekked to Cherry - a small town between Phoenix and Prescott. Amy and I drove together as our hubbies both had to work. We only had 3 kids (Aidan went with Grandma Scott), but it was still a little rocky in the back seat!












When we finally got to the campground where we were going to picnic, Amy & I freaked out as we saw the temperature fall before our eyes. By the time we stopped the car, it said 42 degrees and it was sleeting (hmm, is that a word?). And I had almost worn shorts! Well, thank goodness my cousin, Jenny, had a some towels in her car and my other cousin, Laura, had a sweater she loaned to me. Picnicking with family we rarely see was a treat. And then we were off to see the sights. . . with Grandma as our tour guide. . .

Evan, Davyn, London, Ethan, Savannah, Amberlee, and Camryn

This is a pump made and used by my ancestors who stopped to settle in Cherry. John Allen & Julia Sessions (my Great-Great Grandparents) met and married on the way to Arizona. It makes me wonder, what made people finally stop and say "this is where we'll settle."

Here's a picture of all of us who came -

Me holding Savannah, Amy holding London, Grandma, Mom with Davyn, Corey & Rachel with Evan, Chris & Emily with Camryn & Amberlee, Mary, Larraine, Matt & Jenny with Gabby & Mia, and finally Laura and her son, Ethan.

Next stop: Cherry Cemetery. This was perhaps the most touching place. A cemetery full of my relatives. I love the aura of reverence and calm I feel in cemeteries. I was sure to walk around by Grandma so I could hear all her comments about who was who. She was very emotional as she saw graves of relatives and even some people she grew up with. One man, she said, was so handsome that she had a crush on him and hoped that her husband would one day look like him. I don't know if Grandpa looked like him, but I've seen his younger pictures and he was a catch!

Savannah at the entrance to Cherry Cemetery.

My Great-Great-Great Grandmother who crossed the U.S.,
leaving Illinois to settle there in Cherry, AZ.

London, Savy, Davyn, Mia, Ethan, Gabby, Evan, Amberlee & Camryn.

The cousins' kids at the grave of my Grandma's father, Hugh Gibson Allen. He was a runner in WWI who would run through the trenches to deliver letters and information -- a very dangerous task. Our family still has some of his letters that he wrote home when away at war.

Next stop: The Old Schoolhouse. This is where my Grandmother attended school with less than twenty other students -- Cherry is VERY small. I was surprised at how far away it was from the Ranch. Those stories ARE true about walking a mile in the snow . . . who would have thought! Interestingly enough, people still live in the schoolhouse today.

While we were stopped out front, Larraine came by our car and told Amy and I a story about when her Grandma & Grandpa took them to a social gathering down the hill and Grandma got so drunk that Grandpa left her there and took she and Donna home and tucked them in -- the only time she remembers him putting her to bed. My Grandma's mom was a little on the wild side.

Next stop: The Ranch. This is the place where Grandma was raised and where my mom and her siblings remember coming to stay as children. It was a little decrepit, but still intact. As we walked around the groupings of little buildings, I could just imagine the bustle of ranch life. Each building had it's own function: a chicken coop, a root cellar, a barn for tools, etc.

The front door of the Ranch, where mom kept saying she remembered running in and out, in and out as a child. Just inside that door is a tiny little kitchen that made me grateful for my own kitchen equipped with modern appliances! I ask myself: could I have survived those days????

Grandma and mom (holding a very cold London).

Once again, the Jones Clan.

In the background is the Root Cellar that mom said scared her to death. She dreaded when Grandma Allen (my great-grandma) would asked her to get something in there. I don't blame her! All Amy and I could think of was -- "I saw something nasty in the woodshed!" -- for those of you who have seen Cold Comfort Farm.

The girls and I next to the Ranch -- those very walls that were (and probably still are) the home to numerous daddy-long-legs. I remember when I was young, hearing stories from mom about the daddy-long-legs at her grandma's ranch. Well, here I am, next to the daddy-long-leg walls!

A very cold Savannah who, shortly after arriving at the Ranch, got to wear my sweater since it was mighty cold and, like I said, Amy and I were so not prepared!

So that was our trip to Cherry - a walk through memory lane for Grandma and a journey into the past for all of us. It was more than I had expected.

Then Sunday night, Nate and I attended a ward fireside where a lady in our ward talked about her experiences in Nazi Germany. Amazing. When she finished, I felt so impressed about the importance of getting the information from these older people and learning about history first-hand before it's too late. What great stories they have for us!