Living in an Osmond World: Marie Loves Robert Redford

In 1987, I lived in a condo, owned by my friend Jess Regan, in the Georgetown complex in north Orem. Anita Lang, who worked for the Osmonds, was one also a roommate at the time, and our most famous neighbor was Marie. She and Brian had just celebrated their first wedding anniversary when Marie decided the three of us---Anita, Jess, and I---should come over for Sunday dinner.

She was home from a long road trip and wanted the feel of family time before she headed back out on a Christmas tour. Plans were made, the menu set, and come the chosen evening, we headed toward Marie’s place, just a few steps away.

I had decided to take one of my favorite desserts, a wonderful pudding-based dessert that at the time was known as The Next Best Thing to Robert Redford. (Recipe to come in Saturday’s blog). Today I’ve heard this same dish referred to as Better Than Sex, so I guess the name needed to keep up with the times.

Anyway, I had made a 9x12 dish, thinking that would be plenty for the small group of us who would be in attendance. Marie had baked a turkey as the main dish, and the holiday-decorated table was filled with other delights that she had put together. The hot baked rolls, mashed potatoes, gravy, and vegetables all looked and smelled delicious, and the bounty was so overflowing that I dropped the dessert off on the kitchen counter before coming into the dining room area.

Once we were all seated around the table, the food was blessed and we dug into a delicious meal prepared entirely by Marie. Of course, there was lots of conversation and laughter—something we always experienced when we spent time with Marie.

Despite being stuffed after the wonderful meal, we decided to have just a taste of the dessert. “Just a little bite,” Marie said as the four of us women headed to the kitchen.

Marie got out a set of plates just the right size for a single portion and scooped the rich pudding and cream chees layer onto each plate.

“Mmmmm,” she said as she savored that first mouthful. “Delicious.”

The rest of us agreed as we slowly worked our way through the portion we’d been served. I happened to notice that there was still a 9x9 amount of the dessert remaining. Good, I thought. I loved this stuff and wouldn’t be sad to take some home for later.

“Would you like to see my dolls?” Marie said once her plate was empty and the dishes stored in the dishwasher to be run after we left.

“Sure,” I said and the four of us headed upstairs into the master bedroom. I wasn’t sure where Brian had gotten by this time, but it probably didn’t matter. Looking at Marie’s dolls was more girl-stuff anyway.

Marie had had a loft built into the room, and on the top of the loft near the ceiling was a mattress filled with official design Marie Osmond dolls. She climbed the few steps next to the loft so that she could reach in and pull down the dolls she wanted to show us. I didn’t own any of her dolls yet at this time, so I was fascinated to hear the stories and details about each doll she shared with us. They were truly beautiful works of art.

When we were done, we wandered back down to the living room where Brian had reappeared. A football game was playing on the television, but we stopped to chat with him a little about dinner, the game, and follow-up comments to the dinner table conversation. Marie headed out to the kitchen, announcing that she was going to go ahead and run the dishwasher after all.

We didn’t think much about her leaving us, but after awhile we all began to wonder what was taking her so long. “Think we should go check on Marie?” Anita asked.

We headed to the kitchen and found Marie, standing next to the counter, spoon in hand and whipped cream one her lips. She’d been enjoying just a little bit more of the Robert Redford dessert.

Of course, little is sometimes relative. Marie–or someone–had eaten another huge section from the serving dish. Only a 3 inch strip was left along the side of the dish!

“This is really good stuff,” Marie said, a devilish grin upon her face. “I think I need the recipe.”

We are started to laugh. Finally I said, “I’d be happy to give it to you. . . but are you sure?” Tiny little Marie didn’t look like someone who could possibly pack away that much of this sweet heaven, but apparently she had.

She patted her hips and laughing, answered, “Oh, I’m sure. It’s my hips that aren’t!”

Another laugh from us all, then I said, “I’m not sure I’d let Brian know. . . just how much you love Robert Redford.”

“It will be our little secret,” she assured me, as the four of us all grabbed spoons and finished off the final servings of the substance.

I guess when it comes right down to it, I might have to admit just how much I love Robert Redford as well—speaking entirely of the dessert.

Writing Wisdom: Mark McVeigh

Children’s editor Mark Mc Veigh says it was the act of reading and thinking that led him into being an editor. “The best way to find a book is to browse the library,” he says. “I view every book as a promise.” And that’s the attitude he brings to the projects he decides to publish as well.

“To be a non-reader is almost to be a non-member of society,” he adds. “A good book gives the reader something to think about.” Mc Veigh looks for manuscripts that entertain, enlighten, and encourage. “Books are a way to figure out life, because in reality, life is a novel.”

He says that authors need to keep in mind that audiences are changing. “Give people what they never knew they wanted. Don’t go for the easy thing,” he says. A fan of non-fiction, Mc Veigh says, “The world changes so fast, the moment a book is printed it’s already inaccurate.”

Mc Veigh also delivers what he calls the “sad news” about publishing. “Publishers view books as a way to enrich their coffer, so potential sales decide which books we buy. It is a business. Your book may be wonderful, but it also needs to be a certain profit–at least a minimal profit–or we won’t buy it. It’s not about the work itself; the book must be commercial. This is a business, so try not to be cute during the submission process.”

He says that authors should look at what’s already out there then consider: “Would my book seem out of place?”

As an editor, Mc Veigh says he usually knows after a single page if he wants the book. As a courtesy, he may give a manuscript fifteen to twenty pages if he’s been asked to look at something. If he’s not sure, he will read all of the pages submitted and then think about it before making his final decision. “I fall in love with a manuscript about one out of every five hundred submissions I see,” he says, then quotes Ursula Nordstrom: “If I can turn down a manuscript, I will.”

He says that those who want to be authors should, “Read and write voraciously! The right manuscript will take you a long way.”

Been There, Done That: Pat Boone and Debby Boone

In 1975, I was still a student at Indiana University in Bloomington when music legend Pat Boone, his wife Shirley, and their four daughters, the Boone Girls, came to do a show at the Auditorium. I bought tickets and was excited to see the legendary Pat Boone in concert. But at that time, no one knew much about daughter Debby.

Her father, Pat had been a part of my entire life, or so it seemed. During the 1950s and early 1960s, Pat sold over 45 million albums, had 38 Top 40 hits and starred in more than 12 Hollywood movies, plus starred in his own television show.

In the 1970s Boone had taken his family on the road, presenting squeaky-clean concerts with a gospel slant. I don’t remember much about the show itself, but I know I had a good time. I also remember that he and Shirley had their daughters with them: Cheryl, Linda Lee, Debby, and Laury.

Two years before her super-hit “You Light Up my Life,” Debby was just one of the girls and Pat himself was still the ticket draw when it came to filling concert halls.

If there is one image that continues to shine about Pat Boone, it’s that he is NICE. And that’s how I viewed him that night, not only during the concert, but afterwards when I found myself backstage to meet him.

I had learned a little bit about meeting celebrities by listening to the Osmond fans I had met a couple of months before, so I decided to see if I could get backstage to meet the Boone family. As most people were leaving the auditorium, I made my way down toward the stage. There were a few others who had gathered toward the left side of the stage as well, autograph books in hand, hoping to get a chance to go backstage.

We waited for quite awhile and the theater was empty except for those of us who stuck around hoping to get backstage, and eventually we got our wish. An usher opened the stage door and welcomed us in. “Just line up along this wall and the family will be out to see you in a few minutes.”

I dug around in my purse and found a tiny little notebook and an ink pen which I got out so I’d be ready, and sure enough, in just a few minutes all four girls stepped into the hallway. They walked by us, saying hello, making small talk, and signing autographs. They still had on the long dresses they wore for the final part of the concerts. It was cool to meet them, but all my focus was on Pat, who I saw coming right behind his wife Shirley.

Shirley signed my paper, using a big swoopy handwriting that some might say showed the confidence she felt about herself. She had likely had experiences like her girls when she was nothing but a child since her own father, Red Foley, was also a famous as a country music star.

Then there was Pat. It was exciting to meet him. His was a face and a voice that I knew, and in my opinion he was more important than even Elvis. Actually, Elvis had been Pat’s opening act when I was a kid! After the meeting, those of us who were in the hallway filed out the backdoor of the auditorium and headed home. I couldn’t wait to get home and call my mom to let her know that I’d met him.

Who knew that just two years later, Debby Boone would be a star on her own, and that I would be singing her hit “You Light Up My Life” and remembering the day I met her, and her father.

All in the Family: Mary Ann Blakely Brobst

The thirteenth and youngest child of Thomas and Eliza Jane Blair Blakely, Mary Ann was born in Groveport, Franklin county, Ohio. Her older siblings are: Jessie, George, Margaret Elizabeth, Mary Jane, Julius, John W., William, Oliver Perry, Washington. Thomas Franklin, Albert, and Eliza Jane Blakely.

In the 1870 census, Mary Ann is listed as being age eight and attending school in Monroe Township of Franklin county. She was described by Helen Heffner Brobst as “little, short, petite and intelligent.” Her photos show her to have dark hair which she often wore in a bun.

Mary Ann married David Ellsworth Brobst on 11 February 1883 in Groveport. The couple had moved to Indiana by the birth of their oldest son William Ellsworth in 1884. Their other children were our grandfather, Pearl, and his younger brothers Audison and Olen.

Mary Ann was the family historian, keeping a large family Bible and recording many facts about births, marriage, and deaths for her children, grandchildren, and others. Most facts about her descendants in my genealogy records are from her Bible, which was was given to her son, William Ellsworth (known as Worth) and then passed to his daughter, Helen Marie. She passed the Bible onto her niece Carol Brobst Courtney who was last known to have it in her possession.

Mary Ann died at the home of Mary Magdalene Smith Brobst, Worth’s widow on North 4th Street in Elwood. Mary Ann died of Lobar Pneumonia and is buried in Sunset Memorial Park in Elwood. According to Eugene Brobst, who was in attendance, she was buried by Bob Jackley Funeral Home, not Copher and Fesler as indicated on her death certificate.

Been There, Done That: Shawn Bradley

Back in the days when I was working for Alan Osmond Productions, one of my jobs included arranging for guest tickets to Stadium of Fire. Usually this meant pulling a block of tickets for local sponsors to bring selected guests to the show and having some pretty great reserved seats. Occasionally, we would get a request that was a little more specific: West side, center box or something along that line.

The most unusual, and specific request came to my attention probably in 1991 or 1992 when I was asked to pull a pair of tickets for then BYU’s then-center player on the basketball team, Shawn Bradley.

Now pulling a pair of tickets wasn’t unusual in and of itself; it was the location of the tickets that was much different than any request I’d ever gotten before. First of all, the tickets were to be on the West side, but they needed to be the last seat south on the top row before the nosebleed section and the seat directly in front of it.

“Is Shawn bringing a date that he didn’t want to have sit beside him or something?”I asked the person phoning in the request.

“No, Shawn is coming alone,” the caller told me. “But he needs two seats: one to sit in and the other one for his feet.”

His feet? I thought. Now, I’d never met Shawn Bradley before, so I had no idea why he would need a seat for his feet until I met him at the show that night.

Shawn Bradley is 7' 6" tall! Even with his legs crunched up, there was no way he would be able to put his legs in front of him in those narrow rows. And he couldn’t have anyone sit directly behind him because they would never be able to see.

So, Shawn got to enjoy Stadium of Fire because I was able to accommodate his special seat request.

Flash forward nearly twenty years to this past weekend. I was in Anaheim, enjoying the day at Disneyland with my family when I saw a guy who towered–and I DO mean towered–over everyone else walking through Tomorrowland. I looked, then looked again, trying to be sure.

“Hey, Mike,” I called to my husband. “See that really tall guy?” How could he miss him? “I’m pretty sure it’s Shawn Bradley.”

“Didn’t he play for the Lakers?” my husband asked.

“I can’t remember for sure,” I said, “but I know he played for BYU. I got him seats once for Stadium of Fire. I’m pretty sure that’s him, but he looks a little different.”

“If it’s not him, then I’d still say that guy is an NBA player. Too bad the kids aren’t here right now,” my husband said as we returned to what we were talking about before I spotted him.

Later that evening, as we were leaving the park, Mike and the boys were walking far ahead of me—something they usually do because I can’t keep up—when we passed Shawn again. This time he was seated with his wife and sons, waiting for their bus back to the parking lot.

As I walked past, I could get a good look at his face—he was too far away before in both distance and height—and I knew for sure it was him. Mike turned around to look for me and I jerked my head toward Shawn and mouthed, “Yep. It’s him.”

Another man and his family had stopped to chat with the former NBA star. I motioned for Mike to come back with the boys and we waited for several minutes for the guy to stop talking, but he wasn’t taking the hint that others were waiting and Mike didn’t feel comfortable stepping into the conversation.

I did. I’ve done it many times before when meeting celebrities. HA!

When I got my chance, I stuck my hand out and said, “Lu Ann Staheli. We met several years ago when I was working with Alan Osmond Productions and Stadium of Fire.”

“Wow! That was like twenty years ago,” he said.

“This is my husband, Mike,” I said and then Mike introduced the three boys we had with us in Anaheim.

“Were you in Space Jam?” Chan asked.

“That was me,” Shawn said. The boys talked with him a few more minutes then we were on our way.

“Great segue,” Mike said as we left the park. “You’re much better at that than I am.”

“Practice, I guess. Just lots of practice,” I said.

The next day I found myself daydreaming as we stood in line for food in California Adventure, and I thought, Wonder if Shawn Bradley is back at Disneyland today. I looked over, and there he was. Standing four rows over and three feet taller than anyone else in the line to get a chicken sandwich.

I guess former NBA basketball players need to eat too, especially after a big day visiting Mickey Mouse. But I can’t help but wonder—how does someone like Shawn Bradley get his entire 7' 6" frame bent low enough to fit into the parachutes on a ride like Soarin’Over California?

Been There, Done That: The Bee Gees Lost Memory

A few weeks ago I was looking through my autograph book, deciding who I might write about for this series in the coming weeks. As I flipped through the pages, there was John Schneider, Solid Gold dancers, Cosby kids, members of the group Alabama, and the Bee Gees.

The BEE GEES!? When did I meet the Bee Gees?

I thought and thought and thought, and I couldn’t come up with a single, fleeting moment–no memory of any kind as to when I actually met the Bee Gees.

How is that possible? How could I forget such a moment as this? Come on—surely I would remember saying something to Barry Gibb. I knew of several occasions when I had met and talked with Andy, but not one thing could I remember about having met Barry, Robin, and Maurice–the brothers Gibb.

I knew I had gone to Las Vegas once to see them in concert—and a great show it was! Could that be where I met them? I made my mind sort back through the arrival, concert, and the end of the show, trying to sort though a possible moment when I saw them together backstage, at the cars, in the hotel lobby. Nope! Nothing came to mind.

Celebrities were always showing up in nearby Orem at the Osmond Studios. Had they been guests on an Osmond Family or Donny & Marie Show where I’d been a member of the audience. Not a chance.

I remembered that Maurice had produced an album for Alan, Wayne, Merrill, and Jay at their studio in Provo. Had all the brothers been there, I’d run into them, and simply forgot? I didn’t want to believe that was possible.

As a matter of fact, nothing seemed possible. I’d honestly think that the whole thing was a figment of my imagination, except there was the notecard pasted into my autograph books with all three signatures, and even a “Love” from Maurice.

My memory bank did have a story about Barry Gibb having stood outside of the Orem ZCMI one afternoon and some woman going up to ask, “Are you Barry Gibb?”

His reply, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Why are you standing outside the ZCMI?” she asked.

Barry nodded his head toward the store and said, “My wife. She’s inside shopping.”

That was the only explanation the woman needed to help her understand.

Now I was trying to understand—did I know that woman? How did I know that story? And where in the heck did I meet the three of them?

You have to know, I have a pretty good memory. I can tell you plots of books I read when I was in junior high, for Pete’s sake, but I couldn’t remember anything about this event at all.

Embarrassed at having forgotten or not, I had to know so I took the chance at a recent dinner with several old friends.

At first I asked Jess. I thought she had gone with me to see them in Vegas.

“No, we didn’t meet them there. I would have remembered,” she said.

That’s what I thought, I laughed to myself.

“Mary, when did I meet the Bee Gees?” Mary and I had also gone to lots of concerts and celebrity events together.

“How in the heck would I know?” she asked. I thought I had to be losing my mind, until she came to my mental-health rescue. “But they were at the studio one time for a telethon.

Telethon! That had to be it. Celebrities passed in and out of both the front and back lobbies at the annual Children’s Miracle Network telethons all the time, sometimes in a hurry, and others taking life slow enough to stop for an autograph and photos. That had to be it! It must have been at a telethon where I met the Bee Gees.

I’ve managed to convince myself this is the truth because there is no other choice. But it should would be nice if I could somehow remember something more about that day. At least I’ve still got the autograph to prove I’m not completely crazy.

Wisdom Keys: Silence is Golden

Part of my personality refuses to let me practice the skill of keeping my mouth shut! I know I should, and I understand life would likely be easier if I could just manage to not share my opinions in a variety of situations. But like it or not, I find it difficult to bridle my passions, especially when someone gets my anger riled up.

That’s how I’m feeling right now about one of my son’s school teachers. I wrote her a nice note, verifying some information, and I got back a scathing report on my son, all based on a behavior she should have let me know about at the beginning of the school year instead of waiting until six weeks into the quarter. Whether she meant it or not, a tone of unearned arrogance came through her lengthy tirade.

Hmm. . .maybe I’m not the only one who opens her mouth and speaks words that should not be spoken—well, in this case, emails them.

Of course, that didn’t stop me from replying to her message, maybe in a little more swarthy tone that my initial query, but hey, when her story doesn’t quite match up with what I’m hearing from my son, the principal, and my own observations of her, then I’m not going to let her dictate my son’s educational future.

In the end, I might have made the situation worse, but who knows. There is such a thing as being able to speak up for what is right. I did make every attempt to appear cordial in my response, but in the back of my mind I’m considering just moving him to a different school.

Today in church one of the women spoke about having a similar difficulty of knowing when to keep quiet. She said, “We’ve been given two ears and one mouth for a reason. We should learn to use them in the correct ratio, or we stand the chance of speaking too soon without having really listened if we don’t.”

I thought it was brilliant and even took the time to write it down so I could add it to this essay.

I know there is a place for silence—silence cannot be misquoted—but sometimes one just cannot be forced to remain so. Of course, that does lead to another life lesson—choices have their consequences.

I just hope that this time, the consequence doesn’t make life worse for my son.

Week in Review: Follow My Footsteps

Today I finished reading Lessons from Great Lives, a collection of pieces about famous people put together by Sterling W. Sill, and revisited by Dan McCormick. In the final essay, McCormick talks about Sill’s personal goal to read the complete works of ten authors who he felt could change him in a way that would be good for his career. I started to think about if I had a list of ten authors I wanted to learn from, to see more about how the craft works, to model my own writing if not in form or substance, at least in gaining an audience. I thought I’d share those names with you, not only to get you thinking about your own list of ten people you could use as models in whatever career paths you have chosen, but as a commitment to myself to follow through.

1. William Shakespeare – Hey, he’s my first cousin 14 generations removed, and it seems everyone reads his work at sometime or the other, so I guess I’d better finish reading the canon myself. Thankfully I got a good start in high school and college.







2. Richard Paul Evans – I’ve learned so much from Rick in the years I’ve had the opportunity to work with him, and I’ve seen his track record at being on the New York Times lists, so he must be doing something right and it’s time for me to learn.




3. Suzanne Collins – You can’t throw a dead cat without someone mentioning Collin’s highly successful series, The Hunger Games, in the past year. I want to see how this series shows her personal growth as a writer compared to her previous series about Gregor, which was popular with some of my students but not to the extent this new series has been.

4. Margaret Peterson Haddix – This woman can also write a great series that draws in those junior high-age kids. Since that’s the audience my own fiction tends to be written for, I want to analyze what she is doing that works.

5. J. Scott Savage – Jeff is in my writer’s critique group and I have never known anyone to be such a hard worker when it comes to perfecting the craft. And the ideas he comes up with! I can only hope to someday be as good as he is at developing plots and sub-plots in my head.

6. Carol Lynch Williams – I’ve been reading Carol’s books almost from the very beginning of her publishing career, and I’m still in awe at how she hits the voice of her teenage audiences dead on. Those who know her may says it’s because Carol never grew up, but I’d still like to learn how to give my characters a similar strength of voice that she gives hers.

7. Richard Peck – Speaking of voice, Richard Peck does a Hoosier flavor better than I do, and I was born and raised there. How does he do it? How does he take me home every time and remind me so much of my mother?

8, 9, and 10. Okay, so I just started thinking about this list the afternoon, so I only have 7 names so far. But I’m a voracious reader so I know I’ll decide on the other three names soon. I’ll let you know when I do, but in the meantime, maybe you could start thinking about your own list of mentors whose work you need to follow.

Now, on to the books I finished this week, pushing my page count over 5,600 so far this term.

Lessons from Great Lives - Sterling W. Sill & Dan McCormick
As I said, this is a collection of Sill’s thoughts about some very famous men and women who have influenced the world. Every one from George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Napoleon, Ghandi,  Booker T. Washington, Joan of Arc, and even Jesus Christ get a chapter explaining why we should study their lives and apply their tenants and principles to our own. This book is one to be read slowly, a chapter at a time, then allowing yourself to think about that person throughout the day.



The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins
The first time I tried to read this novel I stopped at the end of the first chapter. I just couldn’t get into the voice and the set-up seemed really contrived to me, but like I said, you can’t go anywhere without someone asking if you’ve read it, so I decided I’d better give the book—and eventually the series—another try. This time I found myself wanting to read, no matter how late at night I got to it. I even stayed up until midnight on a school night to finish the last 100 pages, so I guess you’d say I enjoyed it. Of course, I had to keep myself one step of distance away from the characters or the whole thing would be too gruesome to even consider, but I didn’t mind. I’m just glad I already own Catching Fire and Mockingjay. I think if I’d had to wait, I wouldn’t have even bothered.

The Fourth Nephite - J. Scott Savage
I can’t tell you how much fun it is to see a book in its early manuscript form, then read the final product to see how it all comes together in the end. This was a great read aloud for me and my 10-year-old son, and I learned a lot about what he’s been picking up from his primary class discussions. Our only problem now is that Jeff hasn’t written the second book yet and now we have to wait to see what happens to Kaleo!!!

The Reading Zone - Nancie Atwell
Years ago I read Atwell’s oft-quoted book In the Middle. A few years later I read her own revisionist methods in the new and updated version of that same book/ It was great to see where she had discovered her own problems or struggles within a reading/writing workshop for her students and how she solved them. This thin volume revisits those workshops in a way that should be required reading for ALL language arts teachers. Like The Book Whisperer which I wrote about a couple weeks ago, this book will change you mind about the real way we should teach reading. Too often administrators and the department of education forget that it’s not all about the test. Of course, they also have failed to recognize that the best way to raise test scores—and to build life-long readers—is to let kids READ! What a radical concept.

Mere Christianity - C. S. Lewis
Speaking of radical, I’ve heard much about this book, another which is also oft-quoted, so I decided to listen to the audio version as I commuted back and forth to school. I was surprised by some of Lewis’s ideas, especially the chapter on sex, but the entire book gave food for thought, even if I’m not sure yet how my mind and body can use it.

The Power - Ronda Byrne
In a follow-up to The Secret, Byrne reemphasizes the fact that the way to attract the things we want into our lives we must draw them in through love. Everyone knows you can catch more flies with honey that with vinegar, and the real secret to success is learning how to consistently use that knowledge in our lives.

All in the Family: David Ellsworth Brobst

David Brobst was born October 18, 1861 in Marcy, Ohio, as the sixth child born to Caleb and Sarah Margaretha Smith Brobst. His five older brothers were Lyman Monroe, Alonzo Jacob, John Patterson, Martin Luther, and William Ervin Brobst. His younger siblings were Caleb Franklin and sisters Alberta Christine, Sarah Victoria, Arletta May, and Anna Irene.

David came to Indiana with his family when he was three years old, which allowed all of his younger siblings except Alberta Christine (Berty) to be born in Elwood where the family settled.

According to his obituary, David was a resident of Elwood for a number of years. He was one of the best citizens of the community, a man strictly honorable in all his dealings and prompt to give aid to any movement that was good for his community. He was engaged in the store business as owner or clerk all of the time of his residence and was employed at the Keller Brothers Grocery.

He married Mary Ann Blakely of Madison Twp. Ohio, in Groveport, Ohio. They were the parents of four sons: William Ellsworth, Pearl, Audison, and Olen. Worth was born in Goodland, Pearl and Audison in Kokomo, and Olen in Elwood, where he also died.

Audison was killed in Soppelbas, Alsase, France during World War I and is buried there. Olen built house on State Rd. 28 between Red Corner and Alexandria. He performed with a dance band, playing piano and a variety of other instruments by ear. He had his own dance band in the 1920s and 1930s and also played in other bands during the big band era. He traveled around the country for his career, keeping a scrapbook of his band literature and a professional picture. He gave himself the middle initial of H. Olen died at the Bluffton Clinic hospital of myocardial failure and bronchopneumonia.

David was a member of the Elwood Lodge of Knights of Pythias and of the Modern Woodmen of America, Ashville, Ohio.

He  was on his way home from work at the time he received injuries resulting in his death on September 13, 1922 in Elwood, Indiana. He was survived by sons, William (Elwood); Pearl (Alexandria); and Olen (Syracuse, NY), and his wife, Mary.
David Brobst was born October 18, 1861 in Marcy, Ohio, as the sixth child born to Caleb and Sarah Margaretha Smith Brobst. His five older brothers were Lyman Monroe, Alonzo Jacob, John Patterson, Martin Luther, and William Ervin Brobst. His younger siblings were Caleb Franklin and sisters Alberta Christine, Sarah Victoria, Arletta May, and Anna Irene.

David came to Indiana with his family when he was three years old, which allowed all of his younger siblings except Alberta Christine (Berty) to be born in Elwood where the family settled.

According to his obituary, David was a resident of Elwood for a number of years. He was one of the best citizens of the community, a man strictly honorable in all his dealings and prompt to give aid to any movement that was good for his community. He was engaged in the store business as owner or clerk all of the time of his residence and was employed at the Keller Brothers Grocery.

He married Mary Ann Blakely of Madison Twp. Ohio, in Groveport, Ohio. They were the parents of four sons: William Ellsworth, Pearl, Audison, and Olen. Worth was born in Goodland, Pearl and Audison in Kokomo, and Olen in Elwood, where he also died.

Audison was killed in Soppelbas, Alsase, France during World War I and is buried there. Olen built house on State Rd. 28 between Red Corner and Alexandria. He performed with a dance band, playing piano and a variety of other instruments by ear. He had his own dance band in the 1920s and 1930s and also played in other bands during the big band era. He traveled around the country for his career, keeping a scrapbook of his band literature and a professional picture. He gave himself the middle initial of H. Olen died at the Bluffton Clinic hospital of myocardial failure and bronchopneumonia.

David was a member of the Elwood Lodge of Knights of Pythias and of the Modern Woodmen of America, Ashville, Ohio.

He  was on his way home from work at the time he received injuries resulting in his death on September 13, 1922 in Elwood, Indiana. He was survived by sons, William (Elwood); Pearl (Alexandria); and Olen (Syracuse, NY), and his wife, Mary.

Living in an Osmond World: Jay Osmond to the Rescue!

I moved to Spanish Fork in 1988, and not long afterwards arrangements were made for my mother to come visit. The trip was not going to be an easy one for my mom, despite the fact she was flying from Indiana into Salt Lake City. Mother was 73-years-old and had never traveled alone. She did not walk well anymore, having suffered from serious health issues in the previous few years, and I worried that for some reason I would not be there to meet her plane and she wouldn’t know what was happening.

And my concerns almost came true!

For eight years, I had owned and driven a Chevy Cavalier. I loved that little car, but something about the fuel injection system had gone awry and the car had been taken to the shop to be repaired. Every day the service manager told me they’d have the car ready for me “tomorrow,” but two weeks later, I was still waiting for tomorrow to come.

I can’t even express how much of a burden this had been to me, even without the added stress of needing to go pick up my mother. I was single, living alone in Spanish Fork, and for two weeks I had to try to arrange rides to and from work in Payson, several miles away. I couldn’t go to the grocery store or to pick up anything I might need from the local K-Mart. Basically, I was stuck at home, even having difficulty finding a way to get to church.

I was in need of a hero, someone to ride in on their big white horse and save my day. And never more than the day my mother was flying in to the airport.

When I had called the Chevy dealership that day about my car, expressing my absolute need to have the car that afternoon or my poor mother would be abandoned at the airport, the service manager said they would have it ready for me in plenty of time. Trusting his word, I had my ride drop me off at the dealer’s.

Of course, once I had the chance to talk with him, I found out that once again, he had lied. My car was not ready, and the guy at the counter didn’t know when it would be ready, but he estimated it would take at least another two weeks.

“But I have to get to Salt Lake to pick up my 73-year-old Mother!” I said. “She’s already mid-flight and I have no other way to get there. Don’t you have a car I could borrow, just for tonight?” This was a car dealership, surely they had some car I could borrow.

“Nope. We don’t loan cars out to customers. You’ll need to find some other way to get there,” he said, turning away from me as though he was through listening to my story.

I started to cry. I was frustrated, worried, and angry all at the same time.

Then someone I knew very well walked in the door. Jay Osmond—my good friend, my partner on many-a Young Singles activity, and former member of my ward bishopric—had just come in to return the loaner car this very dealership had given him for his wife Kandi while her car was being repaired.

Jay immediately knew something was wrong. He put his arm around my shoulder and said, “What’s going on?”

I tried to explain through my blubbering, but Jay had it all figured out right away. He turned to the service technician, holding the car keys he was returning into the air and said, “Lu Ann needs a loaner car. I’m bringing one back. "She can take this one because we're now done with it. Now I’m just going to give these keys to her, and she’s going to the airport to pick up her mother.”

He gave me a little squeeze and said, “Tell your Mom I send my love. I’ll take care of everything”

As I walked away, wiping the last tears from my eyes, I noticed that the guy who had told me there were no loaner cars just stood there kind of sputtering.

I hopped in the car and made it to Salt Lake just in time to meet my mother’s plane, and my car?
Funny how it was repaired and returned in under a week, instead of the two the guy told me it would still take.

All thanks to Jay, who came to my rescue.

Home Cooking: Perfect for Teenage Boys

Who knew that when I was in junior high school, taking my required cooking class (yes, it was required clear back then) that I would add to my recipe files a casserole that would become a family favorite? As my boys have grown, I’ve gone from making this dessert in a small Corningware dish to now baking a 9 x 12 Pyrex to prepare enough for dinner, and even then, they sometimes complain there isn’t enough, especially for leftovers.

So what is this dish that teenage boys will love? Think about boys when they go to a party. What do they love to munch on the most? Well, my kids head to the chip bowl, and potato chips are the key ingredient to this Potato Chip Tuna Casserole that is simple to make and fills up the stomach of a growing boy.

How easy? Well, my ten-year-old can make this one pretty much on his own, although I usually remind him of the correct amounts for the ingredients. He’s been helping me make this dish since he was about five years old, so it’s a great way to get your little ones involved in helping fix dinner.

Depending on how many servings you plan to make, you may want to increase of reduce the numbers for the following ingredients. I’ve given you what I currently use for the 9 x 12 Pyrex, a meal that usually serves four teenagers with enough left over for me.

You’ll need:

Large bag of Lay’s Regular flavor Potato Chips
4 cans Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup, undiluted
4 cans Tuna, packed in water
Milk
Margarine

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.

Lightly coat all four sides and the bottom of the Pyrex dish with margarine. Smash the bag of potato chips until chips are in corn flake-size pieces, then distribute enough of the chips to coat the bottom of the dish in a nice layer. You’ll want enough to also cover the top of the dish.

Open and drain the water from the tuna, then using a fork, flake the tuna on top of the entire baking dish, spreading out the meat to all corners.

Distribute the cream of mushroom soup in the same manner, then fill one empty can with milk and distribute that over the entire dish as well.

Cover the entire top of the dish with the remaining potato chips.

Bake for 30 minutes or until bubbly hot. If you bake it too long, the chips on top will become crunchy.

I serve this dish with bread and butter.

Note: The original recipe had shelled, unsalted nuts in the mixture, but I didn’t like it as well that way.

Not only do my boys like this dish, but my husband loves it as well. The boys have requested it several times in the last few months and we're having it again this week.

And who said real men don’t eat casseroles?

Week in Review: A Mixed Bag

This week I finished reading three books that are about as far apart from each other on the spectrum as they can be. If you’ve taken the time to look through the entire list of books I’ve read this year which are listed on the sidebar of my blog, you’ll see that I am an eclectic and voracious reader. At last count there were 85 books listed, all of which I have completed. I’ve started several others. Some were abandoned, and most were just set aside because life as kept me too busy to finish them so far, but I will.

This week I have an LDS historical, a Harlequin romance for teens, and a middle grade fantasy-like adventure story. See—I told you they were varied!

Alma the Younger -- H. B. Moore
Disclaimer alert! Heather Moore is a member of my critique group and I actually read early draft versions of many of these pages, but I am always fascinated how manuscripts can change, grow, and characters develop from the early stages through actual publication of a novel. Heather’s novels are well-know for giving vivid details and painting imagery that takes you right to the place she wants you to be, this time ancient America. Based upon characters found in the Book of Mormon, Alma the Younger is a story of redemption with a promise of romance woven in. If you’re LDS, it provides food for thought as you consider the lives of the prophets. If you’re not LDS, this book, and any from her series, are still a great read.

The Iron Daughter – Julie Kagawa
The second book in a series meant to draw younger readers into the romance genre, like the first book this one follows the adventures of Meghan, half faerie and the daughter of King Oberon from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Having fallen in love with Queen Mab’s son, the Winter prince she thought loved her, she is prisoner to the Winter faery queen. As war looms between Summer and Winter, Meghan knows that the real danger comes from the Iron fey-ironbound faeries that only she and her absent prince have seen. But no one believes her. Although I really loved the first book, this one had several spots that I felt were slow, and I was surprised that the language was a little more raw. The last few chapters didn’t seem all that necessary, but I guess the author wanted to tie everything up into a nice, neat package.

Ranger's Apprentice: The Ruins of Gorlan – John Flanagan
I’ve had students recommend this book, and the entire series to me for several years. Since the author is now ready to release book #10, I may never get caught up but at least I have gotten a start. This epic fantasy reminded me of The Dark is Rising, where the young boy learns he has a destiny. There were moments of true high adventure that pulled me along and into the story, but there were also chapters where I was confused about which character I was supposed to be following. That may have been my fault as I tend to switch between several books in the same day, or it could be because I had one ear open to listen to my student teacher handle a discipline problem or two in the classroom. I will say that once I got to the end, I felt like I enjoyed it enough to add book two to my list of Books to be Read.