You Are My Sunshine

When I was a little girl, I remember going to my great grandmother's house. I would play among the rows and rows of irises - pretending I was a princess or a fairy or even the hero of my own story. Sometimes I would crawl through the hole in the fence and play under the pine trees in the neighbor's yard, and Dick Christofferson would frequently humor my proclamation that his trees were the perfect fort. Most of all, though, I remember my grandfather and my great grandfather.

My great grandfather, Merlin "Jay" Hunt was one of the most interesting men you could ever hope to meet. He traveled the world (taking his eight children and wife with him) and went on the most amazing adventures. I frequently tell my friends that Great Grandpa Hunt had to be the inspiration for Secondhand Lions, because Hub's story is so much like his. As a young man, Grandpa Hunt was known as "The Arab" while in Egypt. He had become so tanned while in the desert that he appeared to be more native than American. One day, dressed in the older style of uniform, he went into a city. The native soldiers saluted him, and one of the men my great grandfather was with jokingly said, "They think you're one of them." After that, the nickname of The Arab stuck. My great grandfather also helped design airplanes - some of which I have had the chance to see in person. He loved to tell stories about them and about flying. But those are not what I remember most about him. I remember going to visit him in Bountiful, spending the entire afternoon listening to him tell stories and listening to him play. Three of his most prized possessions were his guitars, which included one of the original thirteen electric guitars. Two songs were a given any time we came to see him: "The Big Rock Candy Mountains" and "You Are My Sunshine." In many ways, I think he liked "The Big Rock Candy Mountains" because it was both funny and a little wicked - much like him. He would sometimes pretend to forget the lyrics, just to make me sing along with him, and he'd always smile so big when I would join in.



"You Are My Sunshine," though, is ... really special to me. One Thanksgiving - the last time he came down to my grandmother's house for a holiday - Great Grandpa Hunt got all of the great grandkids, the grandkids, and his kids together. We sat in a big circle and sang "You Are My Sunshine" together. At that moment, I knew we would always be a family... that some day we would be able to sit like that again. After that, I went home and learned all of the other verses, just so I could sing it with Grandpa Hunt the next time I saw him. His condition got worse after that Thanksgiving, but I was able to see him again. We sat down together, and he played as long as he could for my dad and me - we'd gone to see Grandpa Hunt together. And Grandpa Hunt asked me to sing for him. So, I sang him all the verses of "You Are My Sunshine" while he played for me. He told me he was so proud of me, that he was so proud of my singing; I can't even think about that conversation without bawling. His hands quickly became tired, though, and he could not play all of his usual songs. But, we sat and talked for hours - mainly about his adventures and also about fantasy books. He even lent me Robin McKinley's The Blue Sword, because he and I shared similar tastes in books. I never got the chance to return the book to him, because he passed away before I got the chance. I lost him just after my first semester in college, and I was devastated. My great grandfather is my friend, and I can't wait to be able to sing with him again some day.

When my Grandpa Bruce became sick, I did not know how to handle the news. I'd lost people before in my life, but I had never faced watching them die. He tried to stay upbeat - frequently pretending to be less tired than he really was - and he hated to see me sad. Often, he and I would sit and just .. talk. I loved the sound of his voice - right down to his frequent interjection of "and that" between words (a subconscious tick). Just before I started college, he and my grandmother recorded messages for me on the digital recorder my mom bought me for lectures.... Messages I still have saved, because I can listen to it when I miss him. He was so proud of me for going on to college; Grandpa would always tell me that I was just so, so smart. He always believed that I was going to do amazing things and would always brag to anyone who'd listen about me. But ... more than my brain, Grandpa really loved my singing voice. Any chance he got, he would talk me into singing for him. He loved asking me to sing his favorite hymns, like "Because I Haven Been Given Much" and "God Be With You Til We Meet Again," and always asked me to record a cd for him. During my first semester of college, I finally had access to the right technology and recorded four songs for him, including one I had written for him and my father, which I called "Nephi's Psalm." Grandma told me he loved to play it (even though it wasn't nearly the quality I wanted it to be). I was glad I got it to him in time - I would have always regretted it, if I hadn't.

As his condition got worse, it was so hard to watch him fade away. There would be times where you would be talking to him and he would just forget who you were or he'd suddenly fall asleep. The last time I spoke to him before he was placed in the home, we were talking and he suddenly forgot himself. We were alone together - everyone else was out of the room - so I sang those two songs for him. I didn't know what else to do. As I was singing, our eyes met and it was my grandpa looking back at me. I started to cry, and I couldn't stop. He held out a hand to me, which shook, and I clung to it with all I had. I knew he was dying and there was nothing I could do about it. I was going to lose one of my best friends. But I knew without a doubt that he loved me with all of his heart. When he passed away that March, I was asked to sing at the funeral. Grandpa wanted me to sing his song for him, and I never could have refused that request. Singing that day, I could feel his love surround me, and I was filled with the deepest longing to go home. I was not sad that my grandfather was dead... I just missed him with all of my heart. I still miss him. He was not able to see me graduate from college, my kids (if I ever have any) won't meet him, and he'll never get to interrogate my future spouse. But, I know he and Grandpa Hunt are with me. And I know I will see them both again, so long as I make the right choices. When I sing, though, I feel that much closer to them. I know they're both listening.

So today, five years after the loss of both Grandpa Hunt and Grandpa Bone, I want to leave you with something special. This video includes the message my grandfather recorded for me and the version of his song I'd recorded for him before his death. Please forgive the poor quality - someday I hope to restore them both to something better.



I just want to add my testimony to my grandpa's: I know God lives, I know the church is true, and I know we all have the ability to be with our families for time and all eternity, if we live worthily. I want to live each day in such a way that I will be with my family again, so we can sit in a great big circle and sing together. It's a work in progress, but hope keeps me going. There are no words to express my gratitude for the Gospel of Jesus Christ - without it I would be lost. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Do Unto Others

I have never been the sort of person to shy away from difficult topics. In fact, I am often one of the first people to jump into the discussion and offer my thoughts. Many times, I do this in order to make my position clear, to avoid being misunderstood. Life, in so many ways, is a series of mixed signals that eventually work out into sense; I prefer to get to the sense sooner rather than later. Today, though, I have been hesitant to express my feelings on the latest debate to tear its way across the country. I have friends on both sides of the conflict - people I respect and love. At the same time, though, I realize I have a duty to speak up. If I remain silent, I feel as though my stance could be misunderstood.

I am a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints, which you might better know as the Mormon church. The leadership of my church released the following statement concerning the Human Right's Campaign's petition and same sex marriage:



I sustain and support my church leaders. I sustain and support the teachings of the church. I do not support same sex marriage nor do I support extramarital sex. The Lord has dictated that marriage is between a man and a woman, and I agree with that. These beliefs, however, do not mean that I devalue my friends who chose the homosexual lifestyle. Many of my homosexual friends are wonderful people who lead good lives. I believe, though, that their choices place them in opposition with the dictates of our Heavenly Father. I feel the same way about my friends who drink, do drugs, or participate in heterosexual extramarital sex. Sin is sin. Hopefully my friends and family will be able to respect my opinion and understand that it comes from a place of deep reflection, consideration, and compassion. My beliefs do not mean that I love you any less - quite the other way around, actually.