"ANNA —

Last night as I was meditating over old experiences, I was awakened to the bare realities of our life and the vision written on my mind which so beautifully portrayed our journey through these fifty years together.

Our romance started in Mexico when I first saw you in Chuichupa. I had just arrived at your home, when you returned from Church, and I watched you, Anna, come in the door. My first thought then and there was, ’By golly, that’s my future wife—I’m going to marry that girl.’

Then as the weeks progressed, I met you again in Juarez where you were attending school. It was there we became engaged and our plans for marriage were materialized. Our lives had been so well grounded in the Gospel that we were determined to journey to Salt Lake City to be married in that beautiful temple. I shall never forget that day, Anna, for I can still see you as you looked in that lovely white dress. Your face was like a flower—pink roses were in your cheeks, with soft black curls neatly arranged over your pretty forehead. ’Today I am making you my wife,’ I thought, and you must have seen something in my eyes which a man reserves for such moments.

Our life together began in Mexico. Five of our lovely children were born there. I recall, too, the death of our little daughter whose memory sanctified that home. Then during the Mexican Revolution in 1912 we were driven from Mexico, losing all our earthly possessions. We were forced to leave by boxcar, which carried 90 other people. We landed in El Paso where we made a lumber yard and establish ourselves. The road was long and rough in our new adventure, but I know now that it was God who was directing our moves. Then, too, we both had faith in the future and set about rebuilding our lives financially.

We lived in Tucson for a few months before moving to Mesa and then Gilbert where we established ourselves on a farm. We reasoned that the country would furnish the needed outlet for our family. Do you recall, Anna, our struggle to build a home? We tilled the soil by the sweat of our brows and planted the crops with a prayer in our hearts that they would produce. Our lives were brightened by the frequent visits of our friends and relatives. And we did enjoy the association of our friends in the little ward we helped build in Gilbert. It was the place where we taught our children the principles of the Gospel. Although we were happy there we were again forced to move because of the depression of 1927, which confiscated our worldly goods.

Our life from there was one of moving and searching for a place where we felt we could settle. We spent a few years in Los Angeles, then Bowie, then finally, we landed in Salt Lake City, where I left the family and went to Wyoming to work in the oil fields. We were not altogether happy there so we returned to Los Angeles in 1935 and I worked as a carpenter. This work later took me back to Arizona where I worked in Morenci for a time.

During these years God blessed us with twelve children. We have nursed them through sickness and have felt the spirit radiated in their weaknesses. We have felt that anxiety which grips the very heart, for their speedy recovery and have swelled with joy as we have proudly displayed each child’s talents to our friends. With each child has come the creation of a new life and a new story—such as the one we have just experienced. One by one life seems to consume these children into new homes. A plan of life, which provides for the ever-continued generations of time. Many things have happened since our wedding day. The horse and buggy are no more, honking horns and racing engines now shatter the quiet of the night. The little red brick school has long since been dismantled and brought the modern schools of today. Peg-topped trousers and bustles have passed with our generation. The art of the old square dances are now just a passing fancy. The years have gone by—50 in all—and tonight we celebrate our Golden Wedding Anniversary. We have reached the crossroads of life where we can begin the harvest, the time when life is at its fullness. In our realm we have conquered and mastered life’s situations. This, Anna, is the reason of our creation.

Now as residents of Mesa, we have found life rich with experiences and overflowing with happiness and joy. Tonight we are surrounded by ten of our twelve children. Our happiness is complete, and I’d like to leave this thought with our dear children and theirs: ‘Life is God’s gift to you—what you do with it is your gift to God.’ "