An Old-Fashioned Christmas

I have been thinking all week about what I might say to you about this Christmas season.  It is always a very special time as we remember the Savior's birth.  But sometimes it is difficult getting into the Christmas spirit because there are always so many distractions.

I think of Nephi's statement about there being an opposition in all things.   I decided this must be true even in such things as the Christmas spirit.  Certainly, the vocabulary of Christmas seems to be a mixture of both positive and negative images.  Unfortunately, too much of the vocabulary of Christmas has to do with its material side.

Sale 40% off,

Traffic and crowded malls,

Money,

One Christmas Carol every 10 commercials on the radio,

Visa cards,

Department store Santas,

Wrapping out of town packages,

Post office lines,

Too few store clerks to wait on you,

Putting up Christmas decorations,

And stress, stress, stress.

Obviously if we think of Christmas in these terms, we are in for a very UnMerry Christmas because we got it all backwards.  We become a kind of a cross between Ebenezer Scrooge and the Grinch who stole Christmas, and if we're not careful we can become cynical, resentful, and forgetful of the true meaning of Christmas.

In opposition to this negative language there is the vocabulary that expresses the true meaning of Christmas, words like:

Family,

Love,

Brotherhood,

Sacrifice,

Giving,

And of course, the greatest word of all, Christ, He whose very name is Word.

What in the gospel is more profound than John’s characterization of Christ as the “Word.” (John 1:1-5) There is no more powerful word than “Christ” whose word is all-powerful. Through the power of his word all things came to be and through all ages prophets, priests, writers and artists and have tried to express both His nature and His power in art, literature, music, and poetry.

Who has not thrilled at the music of Handel's "Messiah" or stood in amazement at the beauty of Michael Angelo's Piata or felt inspired by El Greco's Gift of the Magi?  Think of the beautiful words and music of Mendelson's “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” Handle’s “Joy to the World,” and Kugler's “Silent Night.”

For thousands of years, mankind has been writing and singing and creating such works of art out of love and remembrance of Him whose birth we celebrate this week.

Suppose for a moment that you too could have been there in the hills of Judea on the night the Angels sang?  Suppose that you too had hurried with the shepherds to that manger were Joseph and Mary tended with wondering awe the baby Jesus asleep in the hay?  How would you have told the story?

Would you have written a poem or tried to capture the wonder of it all in a painting? Perhaps you would have tried to write music or just a simple prose account of what you saw and felt.

Remember how Luke told the story? It’s simplicity and directness and power make it one of the most beautiful and moving stories in all literature. I hope you will read it again this Christmas in Luke chapter 2.

 We may not have been there, but we can through others words and music and art capture the spirit and beauty and significance of the event.  We may not be able to write a great story or compose beautiful music or paint an inspiring picture, but we can express our great love and devotion and thanksgiving through the spirit and tenor of our lives - and not just at Christmas time.

May we emphasize the positive language of Christmas and remember family, friends, brotherhood, love, sacrifice, and most of all, Christ whose Word is the light and life of man.

Often this time of year we hear the old folks say, “I wish we could go back to the old-fashioned Christmases we used to have.” I know this is true because I heard my grandparents say it, and I heard my parents say it, and I’ve even been known to say it myself.  But you know what? Every time I catch myself saying it, my next thought is what the heck does that mean?

Is an old-fashioned Christmas a picture postcard out of Currrier and Ives depicting a father bringing home a Christmas tree he has just cut out in  the pine forest, a log cabin with an open fire and smoke curling from the chimney in the background?

Is it a family in an open sleigh singing Christmas carols as they fly over the river and through the woods to grandma's house? Or is it a father sitting around a warm glowing fire reading Dickens’ A Christmas Carol to his children?

Is it making Christmas decorations for the tree out of colored paper and popcorn chains?

Is it just the simpler times of long ago that we yearn for?

Actually, mankind has always emphasized the festive side of Christmas more than the spiritual side, but they have always fashioned Christmas in accordance with their particular viewpoint. Consequently, an old-fashioned Christmas is not a matter of time or place. It's a matter of the heart.

It is a matter of personal perspective.  “old” doesn't have anything to do with a wonderful Christmas. But “fashioned” does.

Each year we have a chance to fashion Christmas anyway we wish. We can emphasize the negatives mentioned earlier and just tune into the festive aspects of Christmas, or we can shape Christmas around the birth of the Savior, trying to fashion a personal relationship with Him and fashion our lives around the principles and ideals and attributes of His life.

And in our gift giving we can give the gift which he gave, which is the greatest gift anyone can give, the gift of self. We give to some from our abundance and these are worthy gifts, but if we emulate the Savior's gift we must look to gifts of the heart. These are the hardest gifts to give because they require us to open our hearts rather than our wallets.

When we do this, we truly can have an old-Fashioned Christmas:

Fashioned by humility as we recognize God's blessings and share them with others less fortunate.

Fashioned by compassion as we become more sensitive to the needs and desires of others.

Fashioned by self-sacrifice as we give gifts of ourselves.

Fashioned by faith in the miracle of Christ's birth, the perfect example of his life, and the salvation and exaltation made possible through his birth, death and resurrection.

Fashioned by a Christ-like love for our fellow man and for Him, through whom all things are accomplished.

May you all have a very Merry old-Fashioned Christmas.

Ebenezer Richardson - A True Pioneer

I have been wondering about what to write in this next blog. I think since many of us took the trip to see the Richardson house in Plain City, Utah, I would like to tell the story of Ebenezer Richardson.  You will remember parts of this story, but sometimes it is better to read it than to hear it.

                                 Polly Uretta Richardson                           Asa Newton Allred

This story was written by an unknown author, but in parts it bears the characteristics of Polly Ann’s personal history.   I have made some corrections.

Ebenezer Clawson Richardson and his wife Polly Ann Child were the parents of Levi Asa Richardson.  He married Polly Erminne Child, and they were the parents of Polly Uretta Richardson. She married Asa Newton Allred, the two of whom are my grandparents.

Ebenezer Richardson was born August 7, 1815, in Dryden, Tompkins County, New York. He died September 20, 1874, in Plain City, Utah, at his home. Ebenezer was baptized by the prophet Joseph Smith in 1834. He was endowed January 30, 1846 and was sealed to his parents October 23, 1884. 

Ebenezer grew to young manhood in a family of 11 children, and when he was 18 years old, he met and married a beautiful, dark eyed, brunette girl, Angeline King. They both were converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and in the fall of 1834 were baptized by the prophet Joseph Smith. The first child, a little girl named Mary Amanda, was born to them August 24, 1834, in Greenwood, New York, where they continued to live for sometime. Angeline gave birth to Josiah on  April 16, 1844.

They soon migrated to Kirtland, Ohio, where the majority of the saints were living. This was the year that Ebenezer was called to enter the covenant of plural marriage, and he took to wife Polly Ann child, a beautiful educated girl of 22, as his second wife. This marriage was performed by the prophet Joseph Smith.

Ebenezer had moved along with the saints from place to place. In Far West he became a bodyguard to the prophet Joseph Smith. At the time of the Hans Mill massacre he was sent with another man to Hans Mill to assess the condition of the saints there.  As he began his return home, he was shot through the chest by one of the mobbers. The bullet went through his body and lodged in his back, just under the skin. His companion cut it out with a knife, administered to him, and through their faith they were able to go on their way.

The Saints were horrified when the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hiram, the patriarch, were martyred, but the church soon had at its helm the able leader Brigham Young.  During this trying time, there were many who were unable to stand the mob violence and persecutions and left the church.  The Richardsons remained faithful and accepted persecutions as the will of God.

The family moved from String Prairie to Galena, Ohio and then to Nauvoo, Illinois. In 1844 Lowly, Ebenezer's mother, died of a chill fever and was buried in Nauvoo.  Finally they were driven from Nauvoo, and we find Ebenezer and families in Council Bluffs, Iowa, (Winter Quarters) in 1846. Here Angeline gave birth to a little daughter, Lola, in 1848 and another daughter, Jane. Both of these little girls died in 1850 and were buried in the Council Bluffs, Iowa, Cemetery. While in Council Bluffs, Ebenezer married as his third wife, Phoebe Wooster Child, a beautiful girl and sister of Polly Ann.

Ebenezer Clawson Richardson and his wife Polly Ann Child were the parents of several children, one of whom was Levi Asa Richardson.  As mentioned previously, he married Polly Erminne Child and they were the parents of Polly Uretta Richardson. She married Asa Newton Allred, [the two of whom are my grandparents].

Alfred Bosworth, was born to Polly Ann and was also buried in Council Bluffs beside little Jane and Lola. In 1849 Phoebe's first baby Amanda Malvina was born, and she felt favored of heaven at being able to keep her. This was to be her only girl, for in due time she became the mother of 10 more children, all boys, and raised all but John.

Polly Ann was the mother of five boys and one girl; she raised four to adulthood. Angeline became the mother of 12 children, raising eight to adulthood.

They arrived in Salt Lake City in the fall of 1850 and settled in Bingham's Fort just north of Ogden, now called Five Points. Polly's history indicates that this was west of Salt Lake. They moved there because of Indian raids. Soon Ebenezer bought a small farm where the Union Depot in Ogden now stands. Times were soon better; their flocks and herds and harvests all increased.

They moved around a great deal, from Ogden to Riverdale, to Ogden Valley and then finally to Plain City. While they lived in Ogden he became a deputy sheriff, and the experience is told that a large company of men entered Ogden without paying the customary toll. Ebenezer, along with Bill Brown, rode out to meet their camp and collected the money.

Shortly after coming to Utah, Ebenezer and Polly Ann went to California in hopes of finding gold and increasing the families’ prosperity.  Ebenezer Clawson, their son, was born while in California.

Early in 1869 the Richardsons moved to Plain City where a home was bought for Angeline.  Nearby, Polly Ann and Phoebe shared the big rock house purchased and remodeled by Ebenezer for his other two wives and children.

Ebenezer played the violin and fiddled for dances. He liked to josh with the young people. He was a large man in stature and had dark, curly hair.

In 1857 Ebenezer was called to go on a mission to South Africa. He helped to convert and baptize the Gilson family to Mormonism while on his mission.  They migrated to Utah and moved to Ogden to live. In due time in 1859, Ebenezer married Elizabeth Gilson, daughter of William Gilson and Charlotte King. The other wives, although close to each other, did not take kindly to his young bride. They felt that they were entitled to all the help he could give them in raising their families. 

Five children were born to Elizabeth, but not being happy with conditions as they were, she took her five children and moved to Oregon to live. 

Because of financial difficulties, Ebenezer returned to the mines in California, and while working there his foot was crushed by a falling rock. When word was received of the accident, Polly Ann and her son Warren went to California by wagon and brought him home. It was a long trip back, and even though they were accompanied by a doctor, blood poisoning set in and he died. Ebenezer lived about a month after returning home, he was 59. Death came on September 27, 1874, in Plain City, Weber County, Utah. He was buried in Ogden Cemetery. He was the father 34 children. 

This next story covers much of the same material, but also adds some important information .  It was written by Ebenezer's grandson, Jack Morgan.

"Prosperity and pleasure of a modern-day Utah seems far from the severe reality of generations past, generations when sagebrush, alkali, hard work and difficult times were not an unfamiliar bill of fare.

Plodding through the ruins [of the old rock house], where once a people shared their lives, or fondling a relic from its storied past, languishing in mystic silence, here we pause momentarily and dwell vicariously as one who knew the real life story.

Those first years in the desert land of Salt Lake Valley and surrounding areas were difficult even to people not unaccustomed to hardships. They located first at Bingham's Fort, west of Salt Lake City, then due to increasing Indian raids, chose to move to Ogden. Ebenezer bought a farm, and for two years they struggled to eke out a living, though their efforts seemed fruitless. Each year found them more impoverished than before.

The California gold rush of 1849 caused no small feeling of unrest and wonderment even among the saints, and many of them were drawn to the gold fields, despite Brigham Young's attempt to sway them. Apparently, the promise of Fortune made its impression on the mind of Ebenezer Richardson also, as he labored in vain to provide for his families, and by 1852 he knew something had to be done.

In Council with the three wives, Polly, Phoebe, and Angeline, it was decided perhaps California gold would give them a new start. It was also decided that Polly and her one son would accompany him while Angeline and her children, who were not old enough to help out on the farm, would remain, along with Phoebe. In Polly's words, "There was quite a company going, we had a pretty hard time getting there."

Historians have since expressed more vividly what Polly meant by "petty hard times." Ahead lay the barren wastelands now nearly depleted of grass and water supplies by those having gone on before. Powdery dust swirled mercilessly  from underfoot and wagon wheels, making breathing arduous. The grassy marshlands of Humboldt Sink offered only temporary relief as Humboldt Desert lay just ahead, then the painful hours that carried them eventually to the waters of the Carson and Truckee River's.

Journals do not record the length of their stay in the gold fields or whether or not they struck it rich, but prosperity seemed, at last, to return with them to Utah. Polly said, "We worked hard and sacrificed a great deal and by 1854, we were getting along pretty well."

The Richardsons continued to prosper until about 1857.  The future looked secure for the first time in 20 years, but it was short lived. In 1857 Ebenezer was called on a mission to South Africa, leaving his three families to fend for themselves. Along with this, the old familiar sequence of events that had driven them from their homes in Missouri and Illinois, now seemed to envelop them once again, and many of the saints were certain they would be driven out by spring of 1858, as they had been so many times before. [By Johnston’s Army]

Soon the dread message came. Brigham Young had sent word for the saints to move quickly to the settlements in the lower part of Utah. This they did, leaving only a few behind to dispose of the settlements, if necessary. Needless to say, suffering people were made to suffer more.

Once again Polly records the following comments: "We were called on to move south when Johnston's army came to Utah. So each of us women with our families had to accept the best we could and go too. We could not take much with us, so of course we suffered more hardships."

Angeline's older boys were to guard the family property in Ogden, or destroy it as the case maybe. Because of the impending crisis at home, Pres. Brigham Young called all the missionaries back to Utah. When Ebenezer arrived late in 1858 the  crisis had been settled and his families had returned to their homes at Alton. [Plain City]

The next 10 years brought prosperity, during which time they moved several times settling in 1869 in Plain City, west of Ogden. Here Ebenezer built a home for Angeline and her family. About 4 miles away, he built [bought] a large stone house for Polly, Phoebe, and their families.  These three families enjoyed a warm mutual love and regard for each other, always associating together in a pleasant and friendly way.

Here, years of prosperity were enjoyed, until one evening, someone set fire to the shocks of grain and all the machinery. Ebenezer, seeing the blaze from Angeline's house, hurried to put out the flames, but to no avail. The loss of crops and machinery meant little means were left to replace equipment or repay mortgages. 

Once again, Ebenezer turned his eyes toward California with hopes of another start. After having worked [in the mines] there nearly a year he suffered a severe injury. having been struck by falling rocks which crushed his ankle, causing blood poisoning.

Upon receiving word, Polly and her son, Warren, took a team and wagon and left immediately to bring him home.  Such an undertaking by a woman and her child with its inherent hardships and perils defy imagination; 1000 miles of uncertainty, coupled with anxious concern for the condition of her beloved husband.

Ebenezer was near death when Polly arrived, but his wish was to return to Utah to be among the saints. Polly immediately enlisted the aid of a doctor and began the thousand mile trip home, arriving in late summer of 1874. On September 27, shortly after their arrival in plain city, Ebenezer Richardson passed away. 

           The Stone House referred to in the stories. Grandma Allred lived here as a child

   

Following his death Polly and her sister Phoebe remained in the stone house with their children for about 10 years. One of Phoebe's granddaughters said the Richardsons had one of the finest apple orchards in the country. The income from this, plus monetary aid from their sons, meant they could live in comparative ease.

In August 1884, Levi, the fifth of six children born to Ebenezer and Polly Richardson, was married to Polly Erminne Child. Shortly thereafter his mother, Polly Ann, sold her share of the stone house to Phoebe and went to live with her children [Levi and Polly Erminne Richardson, my great grandparents] for the remaining years of her life. On January 19, 1905, Polly Ann Child Richardson died of natural causes at the age of 84, a saint, a lady, a representative of the courageous breed of pioneers. Ebenezer mand Polly Ann were my great grandparents.  Levi was my grandfather" 

[They were my great, great grandparents.  There son Levi, who passed away September 19, 1943, was my great grandfather] 

Polly Ann lived with my great grandparents for many years before her death. My grandmother. as a child, would often sit enraptured by her stories of the early events in church history. She would tell of the hardships of being driven from place to place, of the constant persecution, of the near death and miraculous recovery of her husband after having been shot by the mob, of being driven from Nauvoo and watching the temple burn as they crossed the ice-covered Mississippi River.  

She would tell of the love she had for Joseph Smith, of his greatness as a leader, and of his kindness and gentleness as a man.  Her testimony was always of the truthfulness of Joseph’s first vision, of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, and of the truthfulness of the restoration of church in these last days.

She would speak of the Prophet Joseph Smith with tears in her eyes, of the sorrow she felt when Joseph was martyred, of the miracle she witnessed when Joseph’s mantle fell upon Brigham Young.  She testified that when the public discussion of who would replace Joseph as the prophet and new leader of the church took place, Brigham stood to speak, and his visage and his voice took on the aspect of Joseph himself.

Grandma was captivated by Polly’s stories, even as I was with hers.  Her testimony came largely from the testimony of her grandmother, even as mine did from the testimony of my grandmother.  She knew her grandmother could not lie, and I knew that mine would not, could not lie either.  I have always known Joseph Smith was the prophet of the restoration, that the Book of Mormon was true, that Jesus was and is the Christ – the Savior of the world.  I of course came to know these things more surely as I grew older and received the more sure witness from the spirit myself.  But how grateful I will always be for the testimonies of these great women in my ancestral line.

And I pass this on to my descendants in the hopes they will feel the same.

For a more full account of the lives of our Allred ancestors, see the Asa Newton Allred Book by Willard and Gene Mounteer.  

As an addendum, I would like to add a sad comment.  Gene Brady who rented us a small bus and drove most of our family on this outing died just before Christmas.  He and his bus added much entertainment to the trip.  He will be missed.

Michael J Dowling: Never Give Up

I have posted two stories so far, both mostly negative but with life altering messages.  Today I want to tell you a more positive story, but still one with an important concept.

Because of the nature of this true story, I want to dedicate it to Gustavo and Erica Velasquez.  They have been such a strength to our family despite the very difficult health problems they are facing. Through it all, they display a very positive attitude, a smiling face, and faith and courage that astounds us all!

Michael Dowling was out with his parents one wintry night in Michigan - he was 14 years old, sleeping in the back of a wagon while traveling home.  The wagon hit a bump in the road or Michael turned in his sleep. However it was, he fell from the wagon without either parent realizing it.  They did not know he was missing until they arrived back at the ranch.  The search for Michael began immediately.  After several hours, they finally found him lying in the middle of the road, badly frost bitten.

They rushed him to a hospital, but he was so badly frozen the doctors could only amputate. His right leg was amputated at the hip, his left leg just above the knee.  His right arm was also amputated, and his left hand. Can you imagine any future for a man so badly handicapped?  But Michael was not a quitter!

He educated himself until it was time for college.  Lacking the necessary funds for such an undertaking, he went to his local bank seeking help.  He convinced the bankers that he was ready for college and that if they would fund his expenses, he would come back and work for the bank until he had repaid  all he had borrowed.  They agreed!  And he kept his promise.  After he completed his education, he returned to the bank, and banking became his career.

Eventually, he became the president of one of the largest banks in St. Paul.

But that is not the end of Michael J. Dowling's story.  During World War ll he volunteered his services to the war department to help rehabilitate men who had been seriously wounded in the war. He traveled all over the war-torn front telling his story and encouraging those wounded vets to recognize their talents and to not let their handicaps keep them from living happy and successful lives.

Then one day he was to speak to a group of wounded and handicapped veterans in London, England. He walked out on the mezzanine floor of the hotel where the meeting was being held.  He began as usual to tell his story.  Suddenly he heard a "boo" coming from a vet below.  Soon the single "boo" turned into a crescendo of "boos."  He was totally shocked and dismayed!  Why was he being "booed?"

Then he realized they didn't understand  he was handicapped as well.  He raised his hands to silence the group and then slowly walked to a stairway leading to the floor below.  Without saying a word, he sat down on the top step, where he could be seen by all.

He began by taking off his right leg, then his left leg, then his right arm, and finally his left hand. There he sat, a mere stub of a man!

The crowd now became deadly silent as they saw how handicapped he really was.  Then the mocking turned to cheers. Michael J. Dowling just sat there quietly on the stairs.  He raised his left arm to again silence the group, and then began again to tell his own successful life story.

Michael J Dowling is a beautiful example to us all.  So often we struggle with our own inadequacies and imperfections.  So often we say to ourselves, "I really want to be......" or "I really want to do......" Then we end up saying, "but I can't because......"

Michael would say to us: "Believe in yourself, step into the dark and don't worry about what is at the end of the tunnel, never be afraid, and never ever quit!"

Willie Sidis - Boy Genius

Willie Sidis*

Well, this is another Grandpa Mounteer musing.  I want to  tell you another true story of a real person who found himself on the wrong side of the life granted to him by a loving Heavenly Father.

William James Sidis

Willie was born in New York in 1898.  He showed unbelievable intelligence right from the beginning. He had learned the alphabet by the time he was six months old.  By the time he was two he was reading adult books ( not that kind of adult books).  At four he could typewrite in beautiful English and French.  He graduated from high school when he was eight years old, where he had spent most of his time helping teachers grade math papers.

After high school, Willie applied to Harvard University - at eight years of age.  Harvard rejected his application because they thought he was too young.  They told him to apply again in a year or two, when he was a little older.  So, he waited until he was 11 and applied again.  During the intervening three years he read books in Greek, Latin, German, Russian, French, Turkish, and Armenian.

At Harvard he got straight "A's." While still taking classes, he lectured in mathematics. Newspapers of the day commented on the fact that only a few mathematicians in the world could keep up with him.  He was on his way to becoming one of the greatest geniuses of the world.  What a future he had ahead of him.  Only Albert Einstein rivaled him in mathematics!

But during those years at Harvard, things happened to him that changed the course of his life. Newsmen hounded him, wanting his story, asking questions about how he liked being so smart, and how it felt to be so different from his classmates.  His classmates often made fun of him, laughing at his shyness and his intellect. He felt everyone seemed to resent him because he was different.

Finally, he decided the only way to get along in the world was to become an ordinary, average man. So at about 16, after receiving his law degree, he dropped out of Harvard and began just drifting around the country, doing jobs that required no brain work. Willie tried as best he could to be just a regular fellow, never accepting any positions that would require leadership or intellect.

He died in a rented room near Boston in 1946.  He was 48 years old, his mind largely unused. Once, not long before he died, a fellow worker recognized him and asked him about Einstein's Theory of Relativity which had just been published. He held up the galley proof for Willie to see. He glanced at it, reading it upside down. His only comment was that the writer had made an error in the equation, the 7 should be a 6!

Think what a contribution he could have made to the world, especially during World War II!  Instead, all he left to us was his collection of streetcar transfers from all over the U.S.

Willie was one of the greatest geniuses of the world, but he refused to use his God given talents for the betterment of mankind. He failed because he was afraid of the criticism of others.  He couldn't take it!

There is an important message here for you and I.  Have we ever been criticized or made fun of because we refused to drink or smoke or use foul language?  Has it ever been hard for us to not go along to get along? Have we ever turned away from correct gospel principles because someone made fun of them or us?  Like Willie, do we turn away because we are afraid to be different, because we are afraid to be criticized by our peers?

Hopefully not, because we must not, because we know what Willie did not.  We know that every person born into this world comes with a divine destiny. Each of us was called and set apart in the spirit world to come to earth and act out our part in God's eternal plan.  He gives us the talents and abilities to accomplish what we were called to do.  The problem is that we can't recall what that assignment was.  But this we do know; the assignment involved service to our fellow man.  If God's purpose is "to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man," then we are to play a part in that purpose.

Therefore, we must develop our talents and abilities as fully as we can and use them to benefit mankind.  As time goes on, we will see how the Lord uses us and our talents in furthering His work. This Willie never understood, as smart as he was.   Thus he wasted his life and the enormous genius he was given.

It takes strength of character and a sound grounding in the gospel to stay on the right side of the life given to us by our loving Heavenly Father.  And, we need guidance from above to fulfill our divine destiny; t hus the need for the Gift of the Holy Ghost and a righteous life that allows that spirit to work with us to guide and direct our lives.

When you are challenged, and you will be, and when you are afraid, remember the story of Willie Sidis.



*From the article by Hollowell Bowser, "The Devourers of Genius."

AEthelred

I want to begin this blog with a story about one of our ancestors. I have told his story many times over the years, so some of you may have heard it before.  But it is a good story and very meaningful as we apply its implications in our lives today.

AEthelred was an early king of England.  He was the grandson of Alfred the Great who had united England and succeeded in stopping the invasion of the Vikings in Northern England. He came to the throne in 978 at the age of 10 years.  As a result of the successes of Alfred, AEthelred became king during a time of peace and plenty.

  

He grew up loving to hunt, ride, joust, never giving much concern for the kingdom he ruled or the Vikings who were once again beginning to make raids on Northern England.  He was called the "Unready" by later historians because he received very bad advice about his kingdom from his counselors. Consequently, when the Vikings came, he was not prepared. He lost his kingdom and had to pay tribute to the Danish Vikings for many years thereafter.

AEthelred is important to us because he is our ancestor. My grandfather's name was Allred, and he traces his ancestry all the way back to AEthelred the Unready and beyond.

AEthelred's story is important to us because it contains important advice to all his decendants, including you and I. First, we must realize that life is more than fun and games or even digital devices. We must take advantage of opportunities in our schooling, in our work, in all aspects of our lives.  And secondly, in the process we must be wary of the advice we receive along the way and the people who want to advise us.

There are always people who want to tell us how to vote, what to eat and drink, that we are too fat or too thin, how to improve our looks, who our friends should be, but, especially, what to think.

Make sure the person giving the advice is credible, trustworthy, and is himself worthy of the spirit.  If we do this, we will always be "ready" to make the right decisions. And we will not lose our kingdoms because we listened to bad advice.

As a footnote to AEthelred's story, let me add one more anecdote.

Several years ago Mary Lou and I were doing sealings in the Oakland, California Temple.  All the kings and queens of England have had their temple work done many, many years ago. But many of them had never had their children sealed to them.  On this particular occasion, we were sealing children to parents, as researched and organized by our oldest daughter Janet.  

Suddenly, the sealer called out the name of AEthelred the Unready. Mary Lou and I were kneeling at the altar and couldn't believe our ears.  I was to act in behalf of AEthelred and Mary Lou his wife. Together, we had sealed to them all of their children.  It was a thrill to us because they were our direct ancestors and because I had told his story so many times before.

Afterward, we wondered if AEthelred had accepted the temple work done for him and his family.  We hoped this time he was properly prepared  and that he was in deed "ready."