The Proposall

I remember very vividly being proposed to by a man 20 years older than I, and who already had 3 wives and many kids.

Here I was in high school, dating my high school sweetheart.  I was happy.  My boyfriend and I talked of marriage, but knew we had to wait until we graduated, and could afford it.

He knew a lot of my past and still accepted and loved me unconditionally, and kept my wishes of never telling anyone of my past.  I kept it a secret from everyone.  I did not want to be judged, I just wanted to be accepted.  He was raised in a LDS home, going to church weekly, and parents married in the LDS temple, but he never judged me.

I was raised in a church that was a break off from the LDS church, with parents living the law of consecration, and plural marriage, aka, polygamy.  My dad took on 2 other wives, because that is what the church wanted him to do.  We attended church at different member's homes.  One of the homes we lived in when I was young, was in Provo, Utah and had a very large office.  This office was turned into our chapel.  How weird it may have looked to have pews in our house.  I guess it was a good thing we were home schooled and did not have any friends.

Our family attended church weekly, held family home evening every Monday, said family prayers every morning and evening together.  We knelt on the floor in a circle, and held hands for our family prayers.  Most of our family traditions were just as my boyfriend's family growing up.  So technically, we grew up the same, but so very different at the same time.

My dad died of cancer when I was 15 years old.  I was very close to my dad, and always struggled with what is right and what I really believed to be right.  My dad was so smart and knew his way around the scriptures so well, and could not prove polygamy to be wrong. My dad studied all the time, and researched everything.  It was hard for me to not believe my dad's beliefs were correct.  But I struggled with it often.

After my dad died, my mom lost control of her 5 kids still living at home.  We all stopped going to church, except my mom.  She was devoted, and this was all she knew for 12 years.  Her friends and support group were all there, plus the church kinda owned us.  I'm sure it was hard for her to walk away.  Other families that tried to leave were shunned by everyone.  My mom did everything she could to maintain our family of 5 that was left living at home.

When I was 17 or 18 my mom told me that Joe (this is not his real name) wanted to talk with me.  I knew Joe well, and his 3 wives.  I knew him as a church member when he was a young man coming to our home for church.  He later married three sisters, my "cousins".   My dad was married to their mom, so we called them our "cousins".   I used to babysit for joe and his first wife when they had their first few kids.  After some odd years, he ended up marrying all 3 of them and having more kids.

So when my mom told me of him wanting to talk with me, I was curious, but not weirded out at all, at least not yet.  So I met Joe and his first wife at a little park by my house to talk.  We sat down at the picnic table, and he proceeded to tell me that my dad had come to him in a dream and told him he was to marry me. Now this freaked me out!  I was torn.  I didn't know what to say, or do, or how to act.  I already had a boyfriend, who I adored and loved and who treated me like a princess.  I don't remember what I said, I was probably dumbfounded, and told him I would think about it.

When I got home, my mom was in the front room on the phone with him.  She told him she would talk to me and let him know the answer.  She asked me what I thought about it.  I didn't know what to do.  All I remember was not wanting to marry this old man.  I did not want to share my husband.  I wanted to be with my boyfriend, and no one else, but at the same time, make my dad proud.  I wanted to do what was right, even if it meant for me to be unhappy.  I wanted to go to heaven.  Clearly with my dad already being in heaven, he would not lead me astray by having me marry the wrong person.

Now in my confused, lost, sad, and perplexed state, I called my boyfriend and talked to him about it.  I didn't know what to do.  I wanted to please my dad, and do the right thing.  I remember very clearly his words, "Does it give you a good feeling or a bad feeling? Good feelings are from God, and bad feelings are of the Devil."  These words made all the difference to me.  He never judged me, but he did hate this guy for trying to marry me, and deceive me.  Me, an innocent girl, and him an old man with 3 wives, and way to many kids.

I don't think I ever gave my mom an answer, and she never asked me about it again.  I asked her about this situation 15 years later.  I asked her what Joe had said, or how it all went down.  She could not remember, but she did say that living this life was never easy and she would never try to push any of us into it if we did not want it.  She left all of us to choose what we wanted, and believe what we felt right.

My mom has since left that church and moved back to the LDS church.  I don't know what she really believes in, but I think she is much happier with the LDS church.  And me, I married my high school sweetheart.  I still question what is right, but I am comfortable, and I believe I am a good person, and I treat people right.  All that's what matters to me.

Living with Other Kids

All my childhood I remember having the best cat.  She was a beautiful, sweet tempered Calico, with the most beautiful markings.  Not only was she a great cat, but she was very smart too.  She always brought us gifts from the fields and sometimes left them in our shoes.  Sometimes it would be a lizard, but most of the time it was a dead mouse.  She also got around with every other cat in the neighborhood.  My mom would call her a little promiscuous cat.  It sure seemed like she was always pregnant or tending to little ones.  One of her litters included a few orange striped kittens.  They were very cute, as are all kittens.

At this time one of my "Aunts" and her daughter and kids, that must have been single at this time, was living with us.  I never did call this daughter my cousins.  She was much older than I was and had some bratty little kids, with ratty looking hair, and bugger noses.

One of these bratty little kids, probably 3 years old, found some of my moms sharp Gingher scissors, and decided to cut off one of the baby kitten's tails.  We came home from somewhere and found a bloody stump at the bottom of one of these kitten's tails.  I don't recall her getting in trouble or scolded.  She was too small to say much.  But I do remember not liking her for it.  This was a start of a bad living situation.  What kind of a child goes and cuts a tail of an animal off.  Poor kitten.  I don't recall if it lived or died, I just remembering how could this little brat do such a thing.

Living with kids from different home styles is not easy, and then adding in their own kids and a cat.  We had enough going on with my dad marrying two other ladies, and then them living with us, and then their own kids living with us, and then some of their gran kids too.  Busy household.

The Slap From the Sister Wife

I recall one Sunday drive to church very well.  My sisters and I were sitting on the ground in the far back of our huge van.  The back seat was in front of us, and on it sitting was two of the Sister Wives.  They both seemed high strung and easy to push their buttons, now that I am older I completely get it and can see why.  I can only handle a bunch of kids for a short while, and these Sister Wives got to be around us 24/7.  Lucky them.

So, imagine all us kids.  Let's say the youngest was 5 and the oldest sibling to my was probably 17 years old.  Not to mention their kids.  As you can imagine, these ladies were blessed to put up with all of us for so long.

Getting back to The Slap.  So, we are all in the huge van and in the far back us little kids were hot.  The air was stuffy and we wanted some air.  We did not have a window so I opened the side window by the sliding door.  After a few minutes wife #2 closes it.  I complain to my sisters that it is hot again, and send up my little sister to open the window.  Wife #2 tells us she needs it closed because it is messing up her hair, so lone behold it is closed again.  I am guessing I gave it 5 minutes before sending my baby sister to open the window for all of us.

Sweet innocent 5 year old goes and opens the window, and before she knows what happened she is back handed across the face.  Next thing you know my dad slams on the brakes, she flies against the front seat.  My dad orders wife #2 to get out of the van.

Sitting in the van, we could all hear my talking very loud, "Don't EVER hit my children again!"  He told her she could walk.  He got in the van and drove slowly with her walking behind him on the freeway with everyone to see, and us kids to watch quietly in shock.

She got back in, and the van ride was quiet the rest of the trip. I don't recall if the window was open or closed the rest of the trip, but I am sure we were too much in shock to care.  Life went on.

Family Meeting

One day after being in this different church for about 3 years, our parents called all us kids to a family meeting.  My dad was good putting a positive spin on everything that could ever happen.  So with this family meeting, he was able to help us see what he saw.

My dad explained how a family no longer had a dad, and they were alone and asked how we felt about helping them.  Obviously, after the way my dad put it, we all wanted to help this poor family that needed a dad.

Next thing we all knew, this new to us family of 5 was now part of our family, and was living in our basement.  They had their own kitchen and living space, but we ate our meals together, and prayed together.  My mom and "Aunt" took turns cooking, we were soon as much like siblings as you could hope.

We fought over waking up first to get the TV first on Saturday mornings, and anything else that normal siblings would fight about.

As far as all our friends and neighbors were concerned, they were our "cousins" and "Aunt" that were living in our basement.

It was hard, and uncomfortable to try to explain, but we managed, and as far as I know all our friends believed it and never asked questions.  Life seemed pretty normal aside from our little secret.

Typical Utah Family

I was raised in the traditional Utah family.  My dad served a mission for the Latter Day Saints church, also known as Mormons, then he met my mom at BYU, and later married in the Salt Lake temple.

My parents had 8 kids,  me being the 6th child.  We went to church every Sunday, said our prayers for every meal and at our bedside before going to bed.  I even recall praying as a family before every road trip, so that we would travel safely with no problems.  Praying comes with all religions, I am just stating that we did it a lot.

When I was still very small, I'm guessing 2nd grade, my parents found another church that they could not prove wrong, so they did what they believed was the right thing to do.  This church practiced and lived the laws of consecration, and polygamy.   This is where all the money you make and all your belongings go into the "pool" with everyone else's belongings.  Then spent as needed.  At least this is the way I understood it.  They also practiced plural marriage.  With all the scriptures my dad knew front and back, he could not find this church to be wrong.  So we all joined.

Our family had a big, new swing set at this time, and it went to live at someone else's home, because they needed it  more, apparently, and we did not need it as much as they did.  We then moved soon after to a city closer to where they wanted us to live.

Life changed for everyone in my family, as you can imagine.  I have so many memories that have made me who I am today.  I still say, "praise the Lord" in my head when something happens, such as the other day when carrying a six pack of soda in from the car, two slipped out and crashed to the ground...since there was no mess or pain involved, I instinctively said, "praise the Lord" with a sigh of relief.

I have so many interesting memories about growing up, and have decided to write my journey though it all.  I write these as memories, not looking for criticism of any kind.