BIOGRAPHY OF GLEN T MARTINEAU
now the end is near, And
so I face the final curtain.
friend, I'll say it clear. I'll
state my case, of which I'm certain.
lived a life that's full,
more, much more than this, I
did it my way.
I've had a few, But
then again, too few to mention.
did what I had to do,
planned each chartered course,
more, much more than this, I
did it my way.
there were times, I'm sure you knew, When
I bit off more than I could chew.
through it all, when there was doubt, I
ate it up and spit it out.
faced it all, and I stood tall, And
did it my way.
now, as tears subside, I
find it all so amusing.
think I did all that, And
may I say "Not in a shy way."
no. Oh no, not me. I
did it my way.
say the things he truly feels, And
not the words of one who kneels.
record shows I took the blows, And
did it my way.
French words by Giles Thibault, English words by Paul Anka
Fudge, Call the judge
a new born baby
it's a boy
May 9, 1949 was a glorious day in the life of Thouis Eldon and Mabel
June Tyler Martineau. It was the
day their son was born. They
already had four daughters, June, Wilma, Shirley, and Carol. Carol was five
and a half years old. Now they
had a son, me. Everyone was
excited. At last they had a
At the time of my birth, Harry S. Truman was president of the United
States and George Albert Smith was president of the church.
Chevrolet produced one million automobiles that year and legislation
was passed creating flag day, June 14. Jackie
Robison was named most valuable baseball player and a rocket was fired into
outer space. Giant corporations
took hold, as did Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams plays, Truman Capote
and Norman Mailer books, silly putty, Kinsey reports, television sets, plastic
dishes and glass curtains. The
best Motion Picture was "All the Kings Men" and the best song was
"Baby, It's cold Outside" from the movie "Neptune's
Daughter". Gene Autry had a
big hit with his recording of "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer."
I was born in at 7:30 P.M. on Monday, May 9, 1949 in Rigby, Jefferson,
Idaho. I weighed 8 pounds and was 19 1/2 inches long. I was paid for
on the barter system. Dad had a
horse named Lucky that he gave to the doctor, Bob McKee, to pay the delivery
bill. I suppose that was fitting.
People tell me that Dad would have at any time given his favorite horse
to have a son. It's not that he
didn't love his daughters, he just wanted a son too.
I was named for a brother that my mother had who died from diphtheria
on December 6, 1910 at the age of 8, before she was born.
I was blessed by my father in the Ririe 2nd Ward on July 3, 1949.
My dad said this about my birth: "It's a wonder that Glen's neck
isn't that long, because Mrs. Muggleson, the nurse at the maternity home would
get 'em by the back of the neck and hold 'em up by her face and just let their
body dangle. That old gal would never put a baby down.
If she wasn't too busy, she'd have two in her arms, holding 'em up to
her face like kittens. She'd get 'em by the nape of the neck.
Somehow or other I wasn't so surprised he was a boy.
One thing about Glen, after the way he turned out, there wasn't anybody
anywhere that would have been better for me to have for a son.
We got along pretty good. He
liked me pretty well. I remember
I was working and I'd go to work early in the morning and we had a big strong
pasteboard box we set on the table and put Glen in it and we'd set up on the
table while I was eating and Glen would get up there and help me eat.
I'd give him grapefruit cause you ought to see him pucker up when he
tasted it. And I'd call him Pal
and one morning I went earlier than usual and Glen didn't get up and when
Mother got him up an brought him in and I wasn't there, he said "Where
Pal, where Pal?"
Although I was born in Rigby, the family lived in Ririe at the time of
my birth. We lived with my Tyler
Grandparents. That was a nice
thing for Mom because she slept most of the day and Carol, who was not in
school yet, spent the day with her Grandparents.
That was a good time for everyone.
After I was born our family moved into a house next to my grandparents.
One time when I was about 6 months old Mom was gone and Dad was
watching me and Carol. I was
asleep so Dad stepped out. Then I
woke up and would not be consoled by a big sister so Carol carried me next
door to Grandma Tyler. When
Grandpa saw her he sympathized by saying she shouldn't have to carry
"That big lubber" around. That
didn't make Carol feel better at all and she replied that I was not a big
lubber, I was her brother. We
were often reminded of that remark.
Another story in my dad's words: "Glen
liked Topsy (our little black dog). When
Glen got big enough so he could get around, if he needed his face washed, and
he needed it quite often, Mabel would get the washrag and wash his face.
Then he'd want the washrag and he's say "Taw, I gonna wash your
beak." He'd chase Taw all
over the house and she usually ended up in the closet and he'd get her, set on
her, and she'd put her feet up in his stomach and he'd wash her beak good, but
it always took a while to get it done."
In October of 1950 the family moved to Ammon and that is where I grew
up. At first we lived in a rented
farm house on the corner of Sunnyside and St. Clair roads.
We rented it from a family named Fife so we refer to it as "Fife's
house." On December 10, 1950
another sister joined the family. Of
course Mom and Dad wanted a brother for me but they couldn't have been too
disappointed because they named the baby Joy.
When I was maybe three and Joy one, Mom began to understand what it was
to raise a boy. Some wild animal had been bothering the horses in the night
and Dad had a loaded 30-30 rifle in the closet in case he had a chance to
shoot it. I found the gun and
took Joy in with me and showed her how to fire it.
The gun was standing muzzle down and I just pulled the trigger as it
stood. Joy screamed at the loud
noise and Mother, standing in the kitchen, thought her baby had been shot.
She was talking to her sister on the phone and said, "I have to
hang up, Glen just shot Joy." I
can imagine the feelings she had when she ran in slow motion through the house
and found us both standing, looking at the gun.
It left a nice hole in the floor that we could put our fingers in and
remember when I shot the gun. Dad
got in trouble for that one. I
don't believe he ever left a loaded gun in the house again.
I only shot a gun in the house one other time.
I was in my teens and reloading shells.
One didn't look quite right so after it was loaded I put it in my gun
to see if it would fit. It did,
so not thinking, I pulled the trigger to see if it would fire.
It did. The bullet went
right through the mattress and into my very best pair of pants, both legs. I
believe that is the only two times I fired a gun in the house.
Another memory I have of Fife's house is falling in the ditch. I was
two or three. There were larger irrigation ditches near the road and
smaller ditches branched off to water the lawn and orchards. It was on the orchard side that I fell into the smaller
ditch. I remember hanging on to
the grass on the sides and calling for help.
Mom and the sisters could hear me calling but could not see me so they
didn't know where to look. Help
finally came and they fished me out. Mom
wasn't even mad at me for falling in the water.
One day I decided to run away from home.
I don't remember why but I decided to leave so I put my favorite
stuffed bear, Fiddlesticks, in my wagon and declared I was leaving.
Mom and the sisters made a lunch and added some clothes and a few more
toys to the wagon, took my picture so they could remember me, and sent me on
my way. I made it as far as the
front ditch where I made camp and ate my lunch.
After a while I went back home and everyone was thrilled to see me and
asked about my adventure.
I had a habit as a child of sucking my thumb.
This was quite and embarrassment to my dad and he always wanted me to
stop. I was three when he offered
me a tricycle if I would stop sucking my thumb.
I stopped and got the tricycle but then I started sucking it again.
I believe I got quite a few things for stopping but it was only until I
had the object, then I could start again.
Fife's house didn't have hallways, it was like a square box divided in
four equal rooms. You went from
room to room around the house. I could ride the tricycle starting in the kitchen on the back
right of the house, into the dining room on the front right, the living room
front left, Mom and Dad's bedroom back left, and back into the kitchen.
When Joy was old enough to walk a little Mom bought her some good shoes
for walking. When I saw her with those shoes and Mom said it was so she
could walk I figured I had help for the pull toys.
I had a train and some ducks and together we could pull them around
that house. Later I could ride
the tricycle and Joy would follow me pulling the pull toys.
She was not very old but she says she remembers it.
In November of 1952 Dad bought the first home he ever owned, 2105
Avocet Drive, Ammon, Idaho. This
was in a new sub-division on the outskirts of Ammon.
We moved in on Thanksgiving day.
On June 22, 1953 another boy joined the family.
That brother was named Robert. We
call him Bob. Now we had two
families. Four girls in the first
one and a sandwich for the second. Joy,
sandwiched between two brothers. We
were always together and best friends.
I first took a very early interest in cars and trucks.
Dad ran the dragline for Arrington Construction when the Idaho Falls
High School and Civic Auditorium was being built and then bought his own
backhoe. I loved the boom booms.
My sisters say I loved all kinds of heavy machinery and saw them
wherever I was.
Dad used June and Wilma to drive truck for him while he cleaned ditches
in the spring. When I was five and six and not in school, he let me drive
for him until school let out the end of May and the girls were available.
He would set the truck where it needed to be and it had a hand set for
the gas feed, then I would stand on the seat and keep the truck moving in the
right direction while he cleaned the ditch with the backhoe.
I could not stop it or alter the speed, just steer.
I had just turned six when Dad took Carol and I camping at the upper
Palisades Lake. I believe Shirley and Wilma were at Girl's Camp and Carol was
not yet 12 so she couldn't go. We
went on horseback on a steep winding trail and stayed at the lake two or three
days. The water was freezing
cold, too cold to swim much. Dad
gathered logs and made a raft for us to fish from.
I don't think we caught many fish and Carol swam from the raft, she
doesn't recognize cold. We tied
an aluminum mess kit to the fishing line and tried to spear it under water
with a long stick. It was a
wonderful summertime adventure for the three of us.
I started school in September of 1955 in Ammon and attended there until
I finished sixth grade. We lived
some distance from the school but not far enough for a bus.
We walked to and from school. There
were no hills to hinder me but the snow did get deep.
In November of that year I did about the stupidest thing I have ever
done. The temperature dropped to
40 below zero in early afternoon and when school was dismissed the children
were told that they could not leave to walk home.
They would have to wait for a ride.
I was afraid of everyone. I
don't know why but I was just scared. Dad
didn't come for me and they were going to put me in someone else's car to go
home. It was my job to take the
trash out to the barrel and they even took that job away and had a big kid do
Now I was too scared to get in that other person's car so when they
weren't looking I snuck out alone and started home.
I didn't have gloves so I put my hands in my coat pockets.
Then I slipped and fell and put my bare hands into the snow to catch
me. I didn't want to put those
wet hands in my pockets and get them wet too so I held my hands out to dry.
I passed someone's house who came out on her step and called to me to
come in. She didn't have a coat
on to chase me but she tried to get me to come in her house and I pretended I
couldn't hear her and went on.
Dad was trying to come for me but his car was stuck in the snow.
When he met me I was walking along with icicles hanging from my finger
tips, crying. He rushed me home
to get Mom and we went right to the doctor.
Mom put cold packs on my hands to slow the warming process.
The doctor worked a long time to save my frozen fingers, thawing them
out slowly. Fortunately, they
remained on my hands but I was within minutes of loosing them altogether.
If I had walked all the way home I would not have fingers today.
There was no treatment for them after that day.
The frozen skin fell off and new skin grew in it's place.
There was no noticeable damage at first but as my fingers grew they had
a bend at the first knuckle on both hands.
My finger tips are always pointed toward the other hand.
The right hand did better because I used it more but because I didn't
exercise the left hand much it has the worst deformity.
It hasn't hindered my ability to earn a living but makes a wonderful
object lesson for my children when the subject of obedience is discussed.
I show them my frosty fingers.
I was always a student. It
seems I did homework every night until bed time.
I never caused a problem in class but I worked slow.
Growing up in Hillview was a free and easy time.
We played everywhere. We
had the horses to ride, fields to play in, and canals to swim in.
It was a happy place. I
played with Barr Cannon and we went everywhere and were friends with everyone.
We had a big vacant lot across the street where a church was to be
built but at that time it was grass and a huge pile of dirt.
We rode our bikes on it all summer and coasted our sleds all winter.
They were working on the church when we moved to the farm.
I remember my dad parking his backhoe there and attaching a car hood to
the boom. We kids could ride in
the hood around in circles. He
would off-set the wheels of his tractor and attach a barrel to a board
sticking out the back, add a saddle and have a bucking bronco.
I rode that many times.
We had neighbors who had a television set as soon as television came to
Idaho Falls. They had a boy, Gary
Ogzewalla, who was the age of Barr Cannon, and we would go there in the
afternoon and watch television. Gene
Autry and Roy Rogers were my heros. It
was a year or two before we got one at our house.
When we got our own Mom brought us narrow, deep, boxes and Joy and Bob
and I lined up in our boxes with our toys and watched television together.
We had a neighbor between us and Cannon's named Bill Soule' (Sue-lay).
They had a daughter, Laura, who was Joy's age. I was always in trouble there.
I don't know why but they didn't like me at all.
Once I dug a nice hole in the garden and filled it with water and put
grass on top. It was a nice
obvious tiger trap and I tried to lead Laura into it.
She followed me but would step around the trap.
After three or four tries I just picked her up and set her in it.
Then she was mad because I got her shoes wet.
I wonder why they didn't like me.
Once we put a pig in their yard and it couldn't get out.
I can't remember where we got the pig but Mr. Soule' came out with his
smoking jacket on and a rolled up newspaper and swatted the pig around while
we all watched and had a good laugh. My
Grandpa Martineau lived in Mesa, Arizona.
He was an old man I had never seen only in pictures.
For Christmas of 1956 our whole family went to his house.
It was quite a trip, nine people in a Nash car that looked like an
upside down bathtub. Going to
Arizona in December was a wonderful surprise for a seven year old.
Grandpa had a date palm tree in his yard. I had never seen anything like it and climbed all around on
it. There were many plants and
trees I had never seen and I remember taking everything to my Grandpa and
asking him what it was. He was 92
at the time and not able to drive a car.
He had taken a bicycle and added a third wheel on the back so it was
stable and rode it to the temple, which was in the next block from his home. It was hard to manage because the chain only drove one rear
wheel, but I managed to ride it up and down Perkins Lane where Grandpa lived.
Grandpa died on June 23, 1957 at the age of 93.
This time the whole family did not make the trip for the funeral.
Mom and Dad, Wilma, Carol, and I went that time.
Carol and Wilma entertained themselves around Phoenix while I helped
Mom and Dad clean out Grandpa's things. I
really wanted that 3 cycle and thought at one point it would be loaded up for
me, but it wasn't. I remember
seeing a straight edged razor being tossed out and I wanted it in the worst
way. Some Aunt caught me getting it and took it away.
I always felt bad about that. She
could have taken it to Mom and asked her to save it for me.
I got some other stuff but it wasn't nearly as neat as that razor.
Grandpa's house isn't there anymore. Perkins
Lane was actually an alley that ran between two streets and it had several
duplex's. Grandpa owned his and had opened a door between the houses
and Mrs. Jackson lived in the other house and cared for Grandpa.
The area was cleared out and an L.D.S. Stake Center stands there now,
right next to the temple.
I was baptized July 6, 1957, by my father and confirmed by him the next
day. The South Idaho Falls Stake
had a new Stake Center. It had
been dedicated by President David O. McKay just a few years earlier.
I was baptized there.
One fall day at the close of potato harvest vacation, Barr Cannon and I
took a lunch and rode the horses out of Ammon east on Sunnyside road past the
cemetery and toward Bone. We
found a pile of things beside the road that were probably stolen and dumped
there. There were tools and a
leather case that was locked. We
pried the lid enough to see inside and what we saw scared us to death.
It was a human hand. We
knew we had to report this but we had our priorities straight.
We rode on and had our lunch, then we hurried home to report what we
had found. Dad took us back in
the car and collected the stuff. We
were able to open the case at home and the hand was made of wood. Someone's prosthesis. Why
it was there we never found out but we played with that hand for a long time.
It was a great prop on Halloween.
I was just nine years old when June left home in the summer of 1958.
She lived in Salt Lake for a year and then went to England.
From there she moved to South Africa and I didn't see here again until
July of 1977, nineteen years later. I always enjoyed seeing the photographs
she sent from England and South Africa. When
Robbie was born I sent her a telegram and one year on her birthday, I
telephoned her. It was an amazing thing to pay $20 and talk to South Africa
for 10 minutes. When she made
that first visit home I was living in South Carolina and flew home to see her.
Dad took me hunting with him when I was eight.
June moved away and left her horse home so I used it.
It was a white horse named Hammy.
It was first named Pet but was latter nicknamed Hammy.
It was a black horse that turned white and was very used to children on
his back. Dad had to get an early
start, the night before the season opened.
Dad drove us to the hills after work and made camp and stashed the
horses and made dinner and took care of me.
The first one I ever went on I remember because it was dark when we
arrived. We found the camp site
and tied the horses up, then he scraped all the snow on the side of the hill
clean and built a fire and spread it across the hill.
When it was time to camp he cleared the fire off and spread our beds on
this nice warm ground to sleep. Then
we had to get up early to hunt. It
was quite a project to go hunting.
I couldn't have a license until I was 12 but I hunted with Dad every
year after I was 8.
I got a horse for my tenth birthday.
I must have stopped sucking my thumb again.
He was three quarter thoroughbred and sorrel in color.
I named my horse Star because he had a star on his forehead.
Then I had my own horse to hunt on.
I actually shot my first deer when I was 13.
This is an amazing story. Probably
the best of my life.
We were waiting in the timber and a deer came along and I shot it but I
only wounded it. It went into the bushes and laid down. Dad was using a mare that was scared of everything.
He went in after the deer and the brush was so dense the horse could
hardly move and the deer jumped up and spooked the horse.
Dad had his rifle in one hand and was holding the reins with the left
hand. Dad would shoot one handed
at the deer and horse would jump and turn around and Dad would shoot on the
other side. The gun would hold
eight shots and when they were gone he loaded and shot again.
From where I was all I could see was my dad bucking in the bushes and
shooting that gun one handed until he finally killed the deer.
There were other deer but that was by far the most exciting.
We moved from Hillview in 1960 to property two miles south of Ammon on
York Road that we called the farm. There
was forty acres of land, plenty of room for horses and alfalfa to feed them.
Dad built the basement for the house and we moved in there.
It was built of cinder blocks in a hill side so it had an entrance on
the west end. There was only one
wall in the beginning that went down the middle of the house.
The bedrooms and bathroom were on one side of that wall and the kitchen
and living areas on the other. Bob
and I shared a room with bunk beds and Joy and Carol shared another area but
nothing really divided it but the dressers.
I received the Priesthood when I turned 12 and was ordained to the
office of a Deacon by Dad on May -- 1961
Carol got married on June 30, 1961 to Albert Stoddard and Wilma married
Michael Bingham on August 30 that same summer.
Wilma and Shirley were sharing an apartment in town then and didn't
live at the farm. Shirley moved
out later when she was engaged to be married to Roland Maharry.
She was there two months and then was married on April 19, 1963.
From then on it was Mom, Dad, Joy, Bob and I.
I advanced to the office of a Teacher May 26, 1963 and a Priest June 6,
Carol had a daughter, Tracy, and a baby son, Bradly Kent.
Brad had severe eczema as a tiny baby and was treated for many food
allergies. Al got a puppy for
Tracy, a little brown mixed breed named Butch.
After they got the puppy Brad's problems seemed to increase.
One night Dad went to their home in Shelley and helped Al administer to
Brad. Then Dad offered to take
the dog home with him to see if the baby improved.
He said he would not keep the dog but if it turned out they couldn't
keep it he would help them find a home for it.
Dad brought that puppy home and we kept him over night.
The next day Dad called Carol to see if Brad had shown any improvement.
He said it really didn't matter either way because we were keeping the
dog. That was the smartest dog we
ever had. We all enjoyed that
little guy. He was smart, he was
good with the horses, and just fun to have around.
We had him several years.
One night we all rode into the hills and Butch went with us, as usual.
When we started home he wasn't with us and we thought he had chased off
after a rabbit or something. We
went on home expecting him to come later.
In the morning he still hadn't returned so we went back to look for
him. He had fallen into an
abandon cistern that was full of water from the spring run off.
He had swam as long as he could but was dead. We were really sorry we had not gone to look for him because
we probably could have saved him the night before.
We spent many summer days traveling in a school bus Dad had converted
to carry the horses. There were a
few seats in front for passengers and then a wall.
Behind the wall the horses and equipment would ride.
It was labeled the "Horse Bus". We saw much of Yellowstone Park and other place that could be
reached only by horse back or hiking. Dad
and Mom took the fourth year girls from church on a special hike they were
required to do with backpacks. Some
of these hikes went to tablerock, near the Grand Tetons.
It was a hard climb through shale to get to the top and on one hike I
declared I could get my horse up that shale and to the top of tablerock.
I guess it was a good idea because while I was on my mission Dad rode
his horse up there. He took
Quincy Jensen, a friend and professional photographer, and there are some
pretty awesome pictures of Dad on horseback with those big Tetons behind him.
Mother taught school. She
started teaching when I was in second grade and she was my teacher.
Then she changed to first grade and taught it until she died. This was before Idaho introduced Kindergarten into the
schools and she taught kindergarten courses in the summer for the new first
graders. This left Joy, Bob, and
I alone all day at the farm. We
would hurry to finish our various chores and then pack a lunch and ride the
horses east to the old pumice pit and into the hills.
We would spend the rest of the day in the hills with the horses.
Those were glorious, endless, days.
I went to Junior High and High School at Bonneville.
I started playing drums in the seventh grade and played in band
throughout junior high and high school. I
played at Ricks and B.Y.U. also. Joy
remembers when the Ricks College Orchestra came to Bonneville High for a
performance and they brought out kettle drums and small drums and bells and
triangles and wood blocks and cymbals and a gong and when the people came in
it was me. I was the entire
percussion section. Joy was very
impressed. I carried a practice
pad and drum sticks with me to work on it.
High School was fun but College was the greatest.
At B.Y.U. I played in orchestra and we didn't travel.
There was a teacher there that thought I should take classes that
counted, not music. He thought
there was no education in spending the afternoons beating a drum and thought I
needed classes to make me smart. I
needed to beat the drum because my Mother died while I was on my mission and I
could go in there and sometimes I felt so bad and angry and I would get out
the sticks and beat the heck out of those drums and walk away and feel good
the rest of the day. It really
saved the good feelings in me to beat on those drums.
I guess drumming helped too when Shirley died very suddenly in
Livermore, California. She and Roland moved there in May of 1966.
Our family made a trip to see her that summer.
It was probably the only travel the five of us did where camping was
not involved. We all saw the ocean for the first time and swam in it.
Shirley and Roland made a surprise visit home at Christmas with their
two children, Raela and LaNea. Shirley
died on January 25, 1967.
Roland called Carol in Boise and told her Shirley had died suddenly of
a heart attack or something related, they weren't sure.
He asked Carol to call us. She
reached Dad at work and he came and got the rest of us.
Our mother's sister, Alice Byington, was very sick with cancer. When Dad gathered us so solemnly Joy whispered to me,
"He's going to tell us Aunt Alice died."
We were totally blown away when he told us it was Shirley.
It turned out to be a blood clot that passed through her heart.
I don't remember much about her funeral but the night before there was
a viewing at Wood Funeral Home. Hundreds
of people came and we stood in line for hours hugging those people.
I had a terrible headache. When
you cry for days without shedding tears it makes a terrible headache.
Roland got work in Idaho Falls and moved in with us shortly after that.
It was quite a change to have two little girls in the house to play
with. The first floor of the
house was under construction and just a shell with black board on the outside.
Bob and I slept in a tent on the main floor in a bed there, and Roland
and the girls used our bedroom in the basement.
We didn't keep our clothes there, we just slept.
One day I was swinging Raela by her arms, just holding her hands, and
somehow separated her right elbow. She
was a sore little girl for a few days. Mom
said from then on if I wanted to swing children I was to hold them by the
upper arm. The next fall Roland
married Dixie Humble and they got their own house.
I didn't date at all in High School.
The family would attend dances together that the church sponsored but I
didn't ever have a steady girlfriend. I
graduated from Seminary May 23, 1966. In
those days it only took three years. I
graduated from Bonneville High in the spring of 1967 and That fall I attended
Ricks College. All my life I
wanted to be a Forest Ranger when I grew up.
It was the only career I ever thought about.
I applied for the classes when I went to college and found there were
many classes in math and chemistry involved.
I didn't think I could make the grade in those areas, school was not
easy for me. I gave up that dream
and studied other courses. I have
had several different jobs in my life but they only seem to interest me for
about five years, then I want to move on.
I still believe I was meant to be a Forrest Ranger.
I was ordained to the office of an Elder in the Priesthood by my dad on
September 15, 1968. I took out my
temple endowments November 1, 1968 and left for my mission November 2.
It was during the Viet Nam war and each ward could only send two
missionaries at a time. I was not
on the top of the list so thought I wouldn't go.
The Bishop's councilor searched all over the valley for a ward that
could not fill their quota so I could go, then it turned out the boys in my
own ward who were above me on the list decided to go to school instead and I
got the mission call.
I was always afraid to talk to people but the mission made things
better. I had to knock on doors
and speak up and that changed my life. I
was called to the Northern States Mission and was on the edge of the
boundaries when the mission was divided and I was in a new mission, the
Central States Mission. I started
in Chicago and moved to Quincy Illinois, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Which was Central
States, in the fall of 1969. St.
Joseph Missouri, Lincoln, Nebraska, then the mission name changed to
Kansas-Missouri Mission. Then I
went back to Independence, Missouri and Liberty Jail. Gladstone, Missouri was my last area before I returned home
in October, 1970.
I had not been out very long and was in Wisconsin.
The Pentecostal Church was big there and the missionaries decided to
attend a meeting to see what they taught.
I was new to the mission and was scared of everything and I was trying
hard to learn. We got there right
on time but the congregation was ten minutes later and the clergy came to meet
the four of us. I explained it to
Joy in a letter. I believe the
date was January 5, 1969.
In regards to your question about if I had stopped laughing when I
shouldn't, I regret to inform you that I have been unable to control this
dreadful thing. The first Sunday
in January will always be remembered in my heart since on that day my
uncontrolled laughing got me saved, sanctified, called to the ministry and
ordained to be a Pentecostal Preacher.
Being Fast Sunday we had nothing to do at night so with the other set
of Elders we went to a Pentecostal church to see the goings on.
The preacher met us at the door and gave me one of those hugs and a
kiss like they do in other countries, you know.
We didn't tell them who we were so they went out of there minds with
joy to have four nice young men come to their church.
Well, the man announced that they would have prayer to start the
meeting and started to pray. I
was shocked that everyone went right on talking.
I turned to ask my companion why they talked right through the prayers.
Then I understood what they were saying. Everyone was mumbling (Praise the Lord or Halleluia) all
through the prayer. After the
prayer a man got up to lead the opening song and this is where the fun began
(Praise the Lord). They had 3
electric guitars, 1 violin, 1 accordion, 1 organ, 2 tambourines and a piano.
Halleluia did they rock on. The
song leader used a tambourine and kind of did the "pony" while we
sang and danced and rocked on in the spirit of the Lord, singing those whompum
stompem clap your hands revival songs (Praise the Lord Brother).
The first song was great, I loved it.
Then they took requests and we sang one about being washed in the blood
of the lamb (this is the song that got me saved).
I picked up the words fast and me and (Elder) Bellessa were singing
right out clapping and stomping. Every
little while someone would get the spirit, throw up their hands and yell one
of those praises I have mentioned. They
would take about 3 minutes between verses and yell praises and prophesy and
carry on. One lady jumped up,
held up her hand, and started talking in tongues.
Another man jumped up and interpreted it and we went into the fourth
verse with a full spirit. It was
just like the last part of the song "Hey Jude" with everyone
screaming and the music pounds in your heart, the whole church was shaking.
It was just like dancing in front of an amplifier.
The preacher was skipping back and forth across the front of the
church, screaming "Praise the Lord" as fast as he could say it.
The guy with the tambourine was jumping up and down blowing his mind.
One guy over in the corner was doing a soft shoe routine, right in
front was a guy that could tap dance and praise the Lord.
Sister, at this critical moment I cracked up.
It was terrible. I just
couldn't hold it any more and I burst out laughing.
Think of it, right in the middle of someone elses church service I
burst out laughing. My companion
told me to cool it because he wanted to stay for the whole meeting but I
couldn't do it so I sat down. Here
comes my big mistake. I folded my
hands and bowed my head in them so no one could see my face and laughed 'till
I cried. You know it is easy to
disguise a laugh by putting your hands over your face and you can make it seem
like you are sobbing and crying. So
I sat there shaking from laughter and everyone who noticed thought I was
praying and crying in the spirit of the Lord.
I realized that this was a good cover up so I stood back up when I
regained my composure and whenever I started to crack up I just buried my face
in my hands and shook and sobbed and laughed my guts out.
By now the song was over, the people were praising the Lord, guys were
holding up their hands and saying inspired things, they had another prayer and
I had everyone, including my companions, convinced that I was being carried
away in the spirit.
A man came down from the front, walked back and laid one hand on my
head, raised the other hand in the air and started in with a bunch of "Ye
Verily" stuff. Oh praise the
Lord it was glorious. I shook and
sobbed even harder. He called me
to preach the word of the Lord throughout the land, ye verily he surely did,
then he whispered in my ear "Has the Lord moved over your heart tonight,
my son?" I laughed and shook
so hard all I could do was nod. So
he laid both hands on my head and ordained me to preach with a bunch more of
this "Ye verily" stuff. I
could tell that my companions were starting to get excited so right in the
middle of my ordination I gained complete composure and moved my hands a
little so I could see my companion with one eye.
There he was, white as a ghost staring at me so I winked at him and
"Praise the Lord" he was saved on the spot.
He burst out and had to hide his face, which made me laugh and shake so
hard the man's hands just about fell off my head.
After he was done we told the man how much we hated to get ordained and
run but we had to get to another meeting.
So I left the church, now a minister of two religions so I can do twice
as much work for the Lord now.
Well, I work every day to control this laughing thing.
Maybe someday I can stop it but until then I guess I'll just keep on
Maybe it wouldn't be too good to share this experience with the
folks. I think Mom would get
upset about her son goofing around on his mission and playing with the church
of the Devil, so you could tell a few friends, maybe if it didn't get around
too far but try to keep it to yourself.
Joy received the letter and started reading it right from the beginning
to Mom and Dad. By the time she got to the part that said "Don't tell
the parents" they were laughing so hard they missed it.
In Wisconsin, if Green Bay was playing football there was no use in
tracting during the game. If they
lost everyone was mad, but if they won it was good, people were happy.
Another congregation we visited, the minister preached that they didn't
have the full gospel but that it was going to be restored, that the real
church of Christ had fallen from the world but would be restored.
I stood up. He finally
looked at me and said, "What do you need?" and I told him the gospel
had been restored. I told them
all about Joseph Smith and the restoration and sat down.
My companion was a greenie and the minister asked if he wanted some
time too and stood him up. He
just said I was right and sat down. Twelve
of those people showed up at our meeting the next week.
It was a golden opportunity and I wish I had known more at the time.
In my first area we had half a day on Saturday to shop and do laundry.
In the second area they allowed the whole day.
We stuck to our three hours until my companion was transferred and my
new companion wanted to take all day. When
I moved from there I was made District Leader and I started baptizing people
and we set some records and were printed up in the book.
I was rewarded for that and that was nice.
I worked hard and was doing good but I got negative with the way things
were run. The other leaders
mostly goofed off and my mom was sick and they came to me for an interview
when we had Zone Conference and asked how I was doing.
I was so unhappy about the situation and I told them my mother was
really sick and I may not have enough money to drive the car so if they wanted
to relieve me of my duties I would go back to walking and tracting. They did and it really made me happy to have the time to
teach in Lincoln, Nebraska. It
was beautiful and spring was there and it was the best time of my whole
mission. We didn't set any
records but it just felt nice.
Mom died on July 26 and I got home in October, 1970.
Mom's death was a hard thing. Mom
and Dad didn't want to tell me she was sick because they didn't want me to
worry about it. I called her once
when she was in the hospital to find out what was going on.
I didn't get the whole story but I knew she was quite sick.
Three days before she died Dad called me and said, "Your Mom isn't
going to live until you get home, would you like to talk to her?"
I did and she told me that she loved me and I have wondered from that
day since if I told her how much I love her.
If I had understood that she really wouldn't live I may have told her
how much I love her, but I can't remember if I did and it has torn me up for
years. How neat it would have
been if somewhere ahead of that someone had told me she would die and I could
have done better when I talked to her. I
must have told her that I love her but I don't remember doing it and I feel
bad. I really thought she would
be there when I came home. It was
three days later when she died.
I understand that they didn't want to detract from my mission time
worrying about Mom but I really wish I had known.
Years later our dear friend, Virginia Garner, was dying of cancer and I
went to see her. Then I had the
time to talk and hug and tell her I loved her and say goodby, just as I wish I
could have with my Mom.
The next phone call was three weeks later when Dad called to say he was
getting married and wanted me to talk to the bride-to- be.
He was married three weeks after that.
Four of us went to a Rodeo and I called and talked to them.
When I got home I found they were people that I knew.
Her name was Velma Christensen. I
went to school with those boys and I already knew them but I didn't enjoy
living with them.
This is the last letter I wrote home before I left my mission.
An epistle written to the Saints in the upper Snake River Valley on the
18th day of October, in the year of our Lord nineteen and seventy A.D.
Peace be with you and grace from that servant of the Lord in Kansas
City, thy eldest son. Now I say
unto thee that the time is neigh at hand when I shall go the way of all flesh
and be taken up by the big tin bird in it's flight toward the sunset.
I sorrow to realize that his the last letter I shall pen unto you
before we shall meet one another face to face for it hath been a profitable
two years of separation.
I have seen the Lord work among the children of men and have come to
realize a little more fully than I did that we are so fortunate to be the
children of a living God and that he truly does direct the leaders of his
kingdom here on the earth. I have seen the land from Chicago to Kansas City and have
learned to love the people and the country.
I have learned principles of family life which will surely prove
valuable when put into practice. I
have learned the blessings that come through disappointment and know the value
of a constant smile. The ability
to laugh at the tough times and grin when you get stabbed in the back have
become my goals.
And now lest when I see thee I be overcome with the false ideas of our
society and dare not speak this to thy face, I say unto my Father and also my
brother and sister, I love you more than you could ever realize.
I so much appreciate the sacrifices you have made for me and I know I
will never be able to thank you enough but I love you and I want you to know.
And now lest spirits read these letters too I would like to say how
much I love Mom and wish that she too could be there.
And now to my new Mother and family I say that I love you also.
I love you because Dad loves you and I can see the joy you have brought
into his life and the rest of the family.
I always wanted some more brothers anyway.
Now I bid thee farewell 'till the evening of the 27th.
In closing I would like to let my feelings be expressed by one of the
Lord's Apostles who is a little more fluent than I in expressing.
So I would that ye turn to the 3rd Epistle of John and read verses 13
Love and Kisses,
Elder Glen T Martineau
When I first got home from my mission I met Sharon Elizabeth King.
She had been Joy's roommate at Ricks and was spending a weekend at
Dad's house when we first met. I
went to B.Y.U. and she did too so we started spending time together there.
Joy married Gary Crook November 30, 1970.
I was going to school in Provo and went to Carol's house in Boise for
Thanksgiving. Joy called us there and invited us to her wedding so the two
of us drove together for the wedding that took place in Dad's living room.
During the school year of '70 and '71 I began spending time with
Sherry. She recognized that I was
her husband the first time we met but it took me a little longer to recognize
her. On March 17, 1971, I was at
her apartment and giving her a back rub.
I asked her rather offhanded if she would marry me when she grew up.
She didn't respond that evening. The
next day she mentioned it and I asked if she had an answer.
She said she would If she ever grew up.
My question stemmed from a pact my missionary companion and I made
about not marrying teenagers. Sherry
was 19 at the time and would not be 20 until July 26.
She agreed to marry me. It
was alright to be engaged to a teenager but we didn't marry until December,
when she was 20 years and 5 months.
Then in May, when school was out, I went to Florida with my roommate,
Marshall Adams. I wanted to get away and also it was a chance to meet
Sherry's parents. I had a $20
cleaning deposit coming from my apartment and I asked the people moving in if
they would give me $20 and keep mine when it was returned.
They did and I left with it in my pocket, and nothing else.
We drove to Florida, from there I hitched a ride part way and took a
bus to South Carolina. Sherry's parents were moving into a new home and their
furniture had not arrived. They
housed me in the hotel with them until the furniture came.
The movers paid me to help unload the furniture and I got $40.
I took a bus back to Florida and returned with Marshall, who was going
back for summer school. I arrived
home with money in my pocket. I
got there just before Sherry left to go back and we parted for the summer.
I gave her an engagement ring before she left.
Before my mission I was willing to join the Army.
The Viet Nam War was going strong and I would have joined if I didn't
get the mission call. After I
became engaged to Sherry I had a choice to make.
If I didn't enroll for fall semester I was eligible for the draft.
It was done by a lottery system. When
a person registered for the draft at the age of 18 they were given a random
number. The draft called a block
of numbers and if you had one you were drafted. I talked to the Draft Sergeant and told him I wasn't in
school but he said my number was about five above the cutoff number for that
draft. I was probably safe to
work until I got married and went to school.
It turned out I was.
That fall I went to work for my cousin, Dean Radford, in Jackson,
Wyoming, doing construction work. I
lived with him and his wife, Helen. His
own son had died in an influenza epidemic earlier and they treated me like
Something happened during that time that made a change in my life.
I rode a motorcycle but it was cold and if I could get to town in time
I would ride in a car with someone else.
One day I missed the ride and had to ride the motorcycle to the job. It was cold and my attitude was bad. I was really cross about the whole thing.
I came toward a man driving a jeep.
He had no windshield and looked as cold as I felt.
As we passed I did something that was a custom at that time.
When too bikers met they gave kind of a closed fist salute, raising
their arm to the square. I gave
this salute to the man in the jeep and he saluted back, only he was smiling. At that instant my attitude changed. I decided that if he could be that cold and still smile I
could too. By the time I reached
the job site I was a changed person and have kept that attitude all my life.
I hope I have the chance to meet that man in heaven and tell him what
he did for me that day.
Sherry and I married that year on December 18, 1971.
We had an open house at Dad's place in Idaho Falls on Friday evening
and then were married Saturday morning in the Idaho Falls Temple.
We planned to leave then to drive to South Carolina so we could see
Sherry's family and then come back to start school in January, however, the
car broke down and I spent the whole day getting it fixed.
When night came we didn't have a place to stay but Dad did not live at
the farm right then. He was
married to Marjorie Smith then and they lived in her house in Idaho Falls.
We went to the farm and spent the night in my parent's bedroom.
The next morning Dad and Bob came in from feeding the horses and sat on
the foot of the bed and asked it we intended to sleep all day.
That was a little hard for Sherry.
If I ever get to do it again I will just spend the money and go to a
We finished the spring semester in Provo and then moved to South
Carolina to be near Sherry's family and Bob's mission.
Bob was called to the New York Central Mission.
We moved two weeks before he entered the Mission Home.
We attended the Hill Comorah Pageant the first year he was in it and
visited him one other time. I
expected to get rich in the East and return West when Bob did.
It took a little more than two years.
I worked for Sherry's Uncle Lew at the O.K. Tire business.
We were able to buy a home there in August, 1992.
We paid $8,000 for a seven room house.
We started our family at once and on September 8, 1972 we were joined
by a little son. We named him
Robert Jefferson Martineau, Robert for my brother Bob, Jefferson for
Grandfather King. Robbie had a
smile that covered his whole face. He
was a happy little pal that will always be first in my heart.
Two years later on September 17, 1974 Randy joined us.
I took Sherry to the hospital but we bad memories of the first delivery
because she was put to sleep for about 24 hours so we asked for a spinal
block. That worked better and she delivered another beautiful little
boy, Randon Douglas. Douglas is
the name of my dad's older brother and they were close.
As I was leaving the hospital that day I was on top of the world.
I would jump and click my heels together on the right and then on the
left, three feet in the air. I
felt so happy to have a son. Then
I thought of how happy God must feel whenever someone is baptized and how he
must click his heels around heaven and say, "Today I got a son!"
It was a wonderful feeling.
My brother, Bob, married Julie Flamm on August 2, 1975.
We drove to Idaho with Rob and Randy so I could be his Best Man.
I was not making much money at the tire business and went to work for
Venetian Marble. I was the supervisor on the second shift.
We did such a good job we were way ahead on supplies, then Uncle Lew
offered me to come back to the tire store.
I was making $125 a week making marble and he would pay me $1 a tire
for everyone I recapped. That made my salary almost double. One day we got crazy and capped 58 tires.
About this time I received the calling to lead the singing in Sunday
School. Before the church adopted
the block program, Sunday School took place on Sunday Morning and Sacrament
Meeting was in the evening. Sunday
School offered a time to learn music as well as singing opening and closing
hymns. I loved that calling.
Those people sang real slow and I worked hard to speed things up.
I tried to make it fun for everyone.
One July day we sang "Joy to the World".
Some brother in the ward took quite an exception to that.
We were only to celebrate Christ's birth in December and no other time.
He wrote quite a letter to the Bishop but he didn't get any response.
The bishop was on my side.
While living in South Carolina I also served as a Stake Missionary.
When I received the calling I was told that the missionaries needed to
be clean shaven. I was sporting
sideburns and a mustache at the time, as were most of the men in the world.
I shaved the mustache right off to obey the word.
The first meeting I attended with all the missionaries in the area was
an eye opener. I must have been the only one who shaved.
Boy, was the President mad. He
really let us have it but of course not me, I shaved.
I was advanced to the office of a Seventy in the Priesthood for this
Two more years passed and Robbie was close to starting school.
I went West to see my sister June in the summer of 1977.
She made her first visit home in about seventeen years.
It was awsome to see a sister that I really only knew from the
pictures. While I was there I
arranged for a job at Color Tile in Idaho Falls.
Then we sold our house and moved.
We bought a flat bed truck and a box that had been used to haul horses
and loaded all our belongings into it. I
drove the truck and had one boy and one dog with me.
Sherry drove the car and had one boy and one dog with her.
While crossing Indiana I came to a red light at an intersection during
rush hour traffic and stepped on the brake and there was no brake.
I flew through the intersection and missed a semi truck but clipped the
tail of a car which brought me to a stop.
Sherry, following in the car witnessed it all with fear in her heart.
We had the truck towed to the brake repair and went on our way. By some miracle, no one was hurt.
We settled in Ammon and I went to Color Tile to start work.
It turned out the man that hired me no longer worked there and no one
knew I had been hired. I got a
job for Brent Peterson selling carpet in Rexburg and we moved there.
We were expecting another child that spring.
Joy had found a Naturopath in Idaho Falls that encouraged and would
assist home delivery if needed. We
decided to try it since the hospital experiences had not been real good and we
were learning more about the effects of drugs on the body.
When Sherry went into labor Joy came to help with the delivery.
She saw Wilma just before she came and Wilma reminded her to check the
baby's neck for the cord as soon as the baby's head crowned.
We did and found the cord wrapped around the baby's neck so we avoided
serious trouble. That baby was
David Zachary, born March 27, 1978. This
time we had my dad and the Martineau family around to attend the blessing.
We soon found a house to buy in Shelley and I started my own
business. The last six months at
Provo I worked for a man who made cultured marble and again in South Carolina
so I knew how. I got a loan and
started a marble business of my own, Golden Valley Marble.
I made shower stalls and vanity tops for many beautiful bathrooms.
I did much of the work for hotels in Jackson, Wyoming, a place I love.
Although I enjoyed the work the business never really made a living for
us and I worked for a pest control company on the side.
We were expecting our fourth child in October of 1979 and I again
delivered at home. The experience with David paid off with this little one
because the cord was wrapped around her neck three times. Alicia was born October 13, 1979. Yes, I have a girl.
On New Years Eve, 1979, I went to Portland, Oregon and helped Sherry's
sister Sheila and her husband Matt Banks move to Shelley.
They stayed with us until they found a home of their own.
They have been a very special part of our family.
They did not have children of their own for seven years.
We think it was because they were so busy helping with the ones we had. They eventually had three sweet children, Chad, Karissa, and
Kara. All are very dear to us.
Our next little one came June 4, 1981.
John-Michael, born at home but assisted by Lee Richardson, the
Naturopath. My sister Carol
attended this birth but was not much help at delivery, just making food and
keeping us company. The labor
went on for two days and when Lee came to check on us he stayed and assisted
the delivery. Carol stayed on for
another day and slept with the baby John on her tummy until we took him away
and sent her home.
Carol sat next to Sherry's head during the delivery until she moved
away and sat somewhere else. She
said she left the room to get something and when she came back Grandma
Martineau was sitting in her place. There
were definitely some angels in attendance at his birth.
When June came for another visit in 1983, we got a bonus.
My Aunt Venda Tyler had just moved to Idaho Falls.
She had lived in or around Ririe throughout her marriage but when her
husband, LaMond, passed away she moved to Emmett, Idaho for a time to be near
her sisters. She decided she
would rather be closer to her own children and returned to our area about
then. She came to our house to
visit June and we found a wonderful Aunt.
I installed marble vanities in her apartment and we became fast
friends. She has often visited my
family for dinner and she brings peanut brittle.
At first she could only make it when it snowed because she would cool
the candy in a snow bank to keep it from turning too brown.
Later she figured out how to do it with ice water so we can have peanut
brittle whenever she visits. My
children think the world of her. If
you are around when she is holding the ice water she might throw it on you
too. She loves a good water
When Christopher Glen came on May 27, 1983 Rilda Lyndsay, a midwife,
came to help. John met Grandpa Martineau and his wife coming up the
sidewalk and Grandpa pointed to John and said, "This is Glen and Sherry's
baby" and John, who adored his grandpa, grabbed his hand and shouted,
"No grandpa, new baby, got new baby," and they walked in the house
and Chris was about three hours old and he was the new baby.
That was the youngest of our children that Grandpa had ever seen.
The next day I took polaroid pictures to my baseball picnic for the
team I was coaching. It was a
family thing and two of my family were not available that day.
When Christopher was one, Sherry decided it was time for her to finish
her education. She would start loosing the credits she had if she didn't
finish soon. She started taking
classes at Ricks and then went to Provo to summer school so she could graduate
with a Bachelors in Education and be able to teach elementary school.
I remembered the two summers my mother did the same thing so she could
graduate. Mother graduated in
August of 1964. Sherry finished
school in December of 1986 and graduated in April 17, 1987.
Just before Christmas in 1985 I went to St. Charles, Missouri and
helped Sherry's mother, Helen King, move to Idaho.
She found residence in Shelley and work in Idaho Falls and the family
began to feel like a real family again. They
had been separated for several years.
By now I was in search of better employment and applied at the I.N.E.L.
for a security job. I got the job
and soon the government geared up to protect against terrorism and a special
forces team was chosen. I got
that job too. I loved that job. I got along so well with all those people.
There is no one like me, not even my dad.
I did things different from everyone else but they accepted me and I
had nothing to do but go there and be happy.
The only sore spot was the way the shifts were run.
The bus ride was an hour each way and the shift was eight hours and
everyone worked seven days, had two days off, and then changed shifts and went
seven more days. It had been that
way for forty years. It seemed to
me that we could work longer on a few days and have a few days off for a
personal life. I researched work
schedules all over the world and found a plan we all agreed on.
It was work longer four days and have four days off.
Finally the state changed some laws to allow workers to put in more
than eight hours a day and the Union got started.
I pushed for this work change until I was forbidden to talk about it
anymore. I would be fired if I ever mentioned it again, then the rest
of the team took up the cause. Finally
the bosses agreed to look at it and made the change. It was a wonderful thing for people who work there.
It made life easier for everyone.
Our team tried it first and it worked so well that many other
contractors implemented it too.
Our next birth was probably the hardest.
We spent the afternoon together riding the motorcycle around and then I
went to work on the night shift. I
went to work at 10:00 P.M. and then Sherry called and said she was in labor.
We spent the night in communication and I went home at the close of the
shift. The labor went on all the
next day and the baby came at 15 to 5 in the evening. Rilda was helping but we had reached the point we thought we
would have to call the ambulance but through prayer and diligence we delivered
a baby girl successfully on July 21, 1985.
We couldn't decide on her name right up until time to bless her in
September. Finally I asked her if
her name was Elizabeth Anne? She
made no response. I asked,
"Are you Rebecca Anne?" She
smiled and waved and winked her eye so we named her Rebecca Anne.
I began having trouble at work. I
didn't realize I had a serious judgment problem but I crashed three of their
vehicles and they fired me. This
was the week of my 40th birthday, around May 9, 1989.
Then I had some tests taken and discovered I had a brain tumor. I went back and told them about my problem and ask if I
couldn't be rehired so I could have sick leave and insurance. Then it was determined that I had the tumor during the time I
was crashing their vehicles so they hired me back.
I didn't go to work but they paid me all of my sick leave and other
people that worked there donated their unused sick leave to me and this kept
me on the payroll for two years and provided insurance to pay for the
treatment I was receiving. I owe
a great deal to those people and Doug Pechtel especially for keeping me on the
payroll when I needed it most. At
the end of that time they had to let me go but I was accepted for Social
Security Disability and that provided the needed income for us to continue our
The tumor was inoperable but a biopsy was done and the tests showed it
was cancer. We went to the radiation clinic in Idaho Falls but the Doctor
there gave both of us the creeps and we never went back there.
We went back to Doctor Carlton and asked again and the next choice was
Pocatello, but is was closed for total renovation and would not be opened for
three or four months. We then went to Salt Lake.
There was where we needed to be. We
made good friends there and they took good care of me.
We are still in contact with several of those people.
Radiation and Chemotherapy are not pleasant cures.
Most days I was sicker from the cure than the tumor, but the treatment
worked and I was declared free of cancer and I had the last Chemo on July 3,
Since we traveled to Salt Lake for the treatment we needed help with
our children at home. Many people
in Shelley helped with the family and our emotional needs.
My bishop, Bowen Huntsman, did wonderful things for me during this
time. He is a man that is small
in stature but a spiritual giant.
My sister Wilma and our dear friends, Dean and Jay Williams, housed us
in Utah. Joy and June made tee shirts for me to wear to the treatment.
The next year in January I was told to start keeping track of the time.
I needed to be free of cancer for the next five years and I would be
This was when Sherry's schooling paid off because she was able to get
work teaching school and I could stay at home and care for the children and
keep up there.
Becky was four years old the year I was in treatment.
Sherry was teaching Kindergarten and Becky took care of me.
When I was sleeping she would answer the phone and tell people they
would have to call back when her daddy was awake. She administered the medicine and monitored the phone so I
could get the rest I needed to get well.
I tried to get back to full capacity but I never did.
I tried hiking with the scouts but I didn't have the stamina anymore. I made one trip where all the boys and leaders hiked and I
rode a horse. It was the only
time Rob and Randy hiked together and I was there.
September 9, 1990 was a proud day for our family.
Rob earned the rank of Eagle Scout.
The roof of our old house was in serious condition and needed to be
replaced before winter set in again. I
was anxious to get it done and needed help.
The Aaronic Priesthood boys of our ward came and helped removed seven
layers of shingles from the steep roof and replace the sheathing.
My friends from the I.N.E.L. planned to come for the roofing but had to
attend a meeting the day of the planned roofing, which was a Saturday. The next day it rained and the bishop announced in priesthood
meeting that even though it was a Sunday, the "Ox was in the mire"
and asked the ward members to pitch in and help get the shingles in place.
I will always be grateful to those wonderful people.
For my dad's 80th birthday, our whole family went to Lake Mead in
Nevada and rented house boats. This
was April of 1991. My family had
a boat, June and Joy's family shared a boat, and Carol's family had a boat.
Bob was sick with pneumonia and so his family and missed and so did
Wilma. Dad and Mae had their
fifth wheel there so they slept on land at night.
We would kidnap them saying we were going for a short ride and keep
them all day. We found a quite
cove to park all three houseboats and really enjoyed that time with the
family. I had a little trouble
maneuvering the house boat and Rob was a wonderful help to me.
It was a great time to have most of the family around for this long
I started taking classes at Ricks College in the fall of 1990 and came
within 4 credits of graduating.
David earned the rank of Eagle Scout on December 18, 1991, just before
we took all of our family, except Rob, to California for Christmas.
Alicia recorded it this way.
"As most of you know, the Martineau's went to California for the
Christmas holidays. It was good
to see Aunt June, Uncle John and the Crooks.
On the way to California we stopped in Las Vegas, looked around, spent
the night and man, don't ever eat at Circus Circus for breakfast, things just
aren't as good as you expect them to be at all.
In California we went to see Crooks.
It was great to see them. We
went to Disneyland, Michelle and Radley went with us.
Radley gave Jonh $10 to spend and you know what, John dropped it and
the girl behind him picked it up. Then
we went to San Diego to see Aunt June and Uncle John.
We stayed on a pier over the ocean.
It was pretty cool. The
next day we went to Sea World. Thanks
to Uncle Bob we got in free. Shamu
the killer whale was totally awesome and so was the other shows.
After Sea World we went to Tijuana, Mexico and shopped all day.
There was alot of beggars but Aunt June said they were from a tribe of Indians
that begged for a living and were just in a disguise that was pretty good but
the people were actually very rich.
The way home wasn't too bad, actually it was pretty good.
It only took one day."
Randy earned the rank of Eagle Scout on September 27, 1992.
Then a miracle happened. We
had been cautioned to be very careful about conceiving children because the
treatment could cause some serious problems for a child.
Then in the spring of 1992 we learned that Sherry was pregnant and a
baby was expected on Christmas eve. At
first the news was devastating but as I thought about it I realized almost
immediately that God would not send a baby where it would not be loved, cared
for, and needed. Our attitude
changed at once and we waited with excitement.
Stephanie Katelyn was born in the hospital in Blackfoot on January 8,
1993. This birth was an extremely spiritual experience.
The doctor and nurses in attendance recognized the magnitude of this
event and were touched as well. None
of the birth defects that could have affected her were present and she is a
bright, happy, blessing in my life.
She was born in the hospital but we still got things done the way we
wanted. We even supplied the
shoelaces to tie off the cord. This
was a wondrous thing. Everyone
worked for us and the birth was wonderful.
Then I had the chance to raise a baby by myself.
Sherry went to school and the children too and I had this great little
playmate who totally loves me and I love her.
I sure got a neat baby out of the deal, right now she is the smartest
one we have ever raised. I
believe I announced her to my family as "Pretty as the best pig you ever
Throughout my marriage my dad sort of circled the perimeter.
He never got over the death of Mom any better than the rest of us did.
He was married to many different women for short periods of time, he
just couldn't find what he was looking for.
One wife had a son who was blind and he lived close to us when we were
in South Carolina. Dad and Florence came for a visit there.
What a treat to have them over Christmas.
He pulled his fifth wheel there and parked by our house.
Eventually all our Christmas gifts were hidden in his house until
Christmas eve, then he had to come alone and play Santa.
If one of us had helped it would have spoiled their surprise.
He left the trailer there and went on to Washington D.C. for a few
days. While he was away the
weather turned cold and I didn't think to turn on the heat in the trailer.
The house plants in there froze. He
probably forgot about immediately but I never did.
Usually he spent the winter months in Saint George, Utah and would come
home for a few months in the summer. The
second wife he divorced kept the farm and he bought a fifth wheel trailer that
was his home until the time his died.
Sometimes he would park the trailer in my yard and spend some time with
us, usually he would park at Bob's house in Ucon.
Rob spent a summer in Saint George when he was about 12.
He had a wonderful time with his Grandpa, riding horses and shooting
the .22. They were great pals
after that. Rob has that .22. It was his inheritance.
A friend of Dad's in Utah bought a Spanish horse, a Pacifino, that
needed special training. She
hired Dad to train it for her. After
a year or two of training she lost interest in the horse and gave it to Dad.
He didn't own property in Utah and rented trailer space for the winter
so he had to rent pasture too. This,
and moving it back and forth became hard so he mentioned he needed to sell the
horse but it would take a little advertising to get the valued price for the
horse. I had a motorcycle, a
Honda 750, so we made a trade. I
wanted his horse for Robbie and he could ride the motorcycle.
Dad took the motorcycle back to Utah and rode around on it.
One night he was going to a dance in Hurricane when the driver of the
car in front of him missed a road they wanted to turn on and made a U turn in
the highway. Dad hit the car
broad side and totaled the motorcycle. He
was stiff and bruised but nothing was broken.
On the other hand, the motorcycle was beyond repair.
He often said the bike was built by the Japanese and it fell apart.
He was American made and he kept on ticking but if he had been Japanese
he would be dead now.
I had the horse, Ash, for several years before I sold him.
There are fine photographs of Dad sitting on Ash, probably the last
professional picture he ever had taken.
Dad was infected with shingles during the summer of 1992.
He didn't get them treated soon enough and it affected his right leg
and his general health. When he
went to Utah for the winter I drove with him and rode the bus home.
It took two days to get there. The
first night we parked in a gravel pit to sleep.
The rain came in the night and we were in danger of being flooded so we
got a real early start the next day. I
drove with Dad in his truck and Mae followed in the van.
It was a real special time with my dad.
In the spring he wouldn't let me come for him and that trip home was
the worst ever. He decided to get
an apartment in Rigby and stay for the winter months.
He spent the summer in Ucon and in late August moved into the
apartment. The fifth wheel was
emptied of his belongings and was parked at Bob's house.
On September 25th he became very ill with a bad chest congestion and
Bob and Julie took him to the hospital in Rexburg.
It was determined he had pneumonia and would need to stay.
He was joking and happy when they put him to bed but he said several
times he did not intend to stay. Bob
took his boots and clothes home because Dad said he would not stay. I guess he was serious because he died the next morning,
September 26, 1993, 23 years and 2 months after Mom.
I wanted to dig my dad's grave. It
is there at Ammon next to my Mom and it seemed that I could dig that for him.
At that time I was having trouble with blood clots in my legs and I
tried to drive truck for a potato farmer doing his harvest and stirred up some
new clots. I still wanted to dig
that grave but the rest of my family told me no, I couldn't.
Instead, Carol, June, Bob, and I went to the cemetery on Wednesday and
cleaned the hard water deposits from Mom and Dad's head stone so it would look
good for the funeral on Thursday. I
dedicated my dad's grave.
Randy graduated from high school May 25, 1993.
He worked for the summer and went on his mission to Sao Paulo, Brazil
in October 1993. For the month of
September he was out of work and spend the days with his baby sister,
Stephanie. They became the
closest of pals. Randy returned in the fall of 1995.
On November 13, 1994 I flew to Florida and helped Sherry's dad move
west. He was diagnosed with bone
cancer and needed to be closer to his daughters.
Once he was settled in Shelley his problems got better and he is able
to enjoy his grandchildren. He
has become the family shopper. Everyday
he scouts the Deseret Industries, grocery stores, garage sales, wherever
things are for sale and brings food and things into our home.
In the spring of 1996 I ordained him a High Priest and he went to the
temple on March 23 and took out his endowments.
I guess this is the blessing he came to us for.
There were hard times too. Robbie
got involved with an older woman who bore his child on April 3, 1994, and
helped him become involved in the manufacture of drugs.
He was convicted in November 1994 and sentenced to three years in
Federal Prison. He reported March 8, 1995 to the facility in Pocatello.
From there he was moved to Florence, Colorado to an honor camp where he
worked at night polishing floors in a maximum security prison near by.
We made several trips to Colorado to see him.
It meant a 16 hour drive to get there, eight hours to visit and 16
hours to get home again. When
Randy returned home from his mission he asked to fly to Denver first.
We met him there and visited Robbie before Randy came home.
It was very important to him to see his brother.
Then in March 1996 Rob was moved to Sandstone, Minnesota.
John-Michael earned the rank of Eagle Scout August 27, 1995.
We almost didn't live to receive it.
On June 16, 1995, I took John and Chris and a friend to float the Snake
River at Alpine, Wyoming. The
water was pretty high because of a heavy snowfall in the winter.
We were managing pretty well when a photographer on the bank took our
picture. Just after that we hit
some rough water and lost one oar. We
made it to the place we normally get out and couldn't steer the boat to the
side with only one oar. Beyond
that point the water gets pretty wild, that is why the boats exit there.
We didn't have long to fight it because there were many search and
rescue personal there and they pulled us out.
Not too long before we got there, a lady named Jean McGavock had been
washed overboard from the raft she was riding in.
The rescue people were there to look for her and saved us from becoming
lost also. Her body was not found for nearly ten months when it was
recovered in April of 1996 from the Palisades Reservoir.
I am very sorry she lost her life but because of her four of us were
saved and I suspect several others.
By December of 1995 I was having trouble again.
I could not read very well because I just could not make sense of the
letters. Another MRI was taken
and it showed that the tumor was back and had a companion in front of it. Surgery was scheduled for January 26, 1996, in Idaho Falls.
I really did not expect to live through the surgery.
June and Joy came to spend the week before with me.
We had dinner at Carol's house in Saint Anthony, Sherry and I, June and
Joy, Bob and Julie and Al and Carol. We
talked and we hugged and we prepared to say good-by.
Then I had a big surprise and survived.
The surgery had not removed much of the tumor and I was told it was
malignant and I would have two to eight months to live, with or without
treatment. I'd already had
treatment and decided that it would be better to have a quality of life for
the remaining time. They said,
"Your time's up Glen, you're going down but we'll give you nine months to
get ready to go." If that
isn't the most amazing thing in the world.
To finish all those things you couldn't get done before. To me it's the neatest blessing that I could imagine, to say
"Glen, we're taking you out in nine months and you do anything you
want." It is interesting the
things that are important to you, things you think are really important and
then you find out in nine months you are going and this is where you're going
and all at once everything doesn't matter.
The life insurance will give me half of my money now because I will die
for sure and all at once I got a batch of cash, I could go all over the world
and all of a sudden I don't want to go. All
that stuff that I thought was important to me, all of a sudden it's not any
more. I want to be home and make sure that everybody that's here
knows every day that I love them. I
want to do things at my house that will be here for them for the next 20
years. I don't know, things
change and I just think it's one of the neatest blessings that anyone could
have. We know that all of us are
going to die. Some will live 90
years before they do it and get old and crazy and some of us will get run over
by cars and killed and all kinds of good things, but I get to say, "Well
Glen, you're going to die and you've got eight or nine months before we pick
you up", and it's just the neatest thing that could happen to me.
I have a nice family but I truly value the Gospel.
Nothing is more important to me. It
just stands there, as I deteriorate my knowledge of the Gospel is staying
strong and true. I have always
been active in the church and held callings usually dealing with the young men
In April of 1996 Sherry and I took a flight to Sandstone, Illinois to
see Rob one last time. We had two
days to visit and I gave him a Father's Blessing for the last time.
It was probably the toughest thing I ever did, to walk away and know I
would never see my boy again.
My 47th birthday was May 9, 1996.
Sherry threw a suprise party open house for me that was magnificent.
Over a hunderd people came and brought letters and cards. I had a good visit and a happy time. I was pretty clear and strong that day. I have been slipping daily since then.
We added a cover to the patio behind the house, Carol and Al helped me
do that. My boys all helped with
it too and will enjoy the shelter for years to come.
We also added a two car garage with storage room for bicycles and
tools. Bob and Al did the
concrete work and a friend from the S.R.T. days built the structure.
Glen passed away August 2, 1996 at 3:00 p.m.
His sisters and brother were in Ogden, Utah for their traditional
family reunion held the first weekend in August.
His funeral was Wednesday, August 7, 1996 and he is buried in the Ammon
Cemetery, next to his mother.
history of mine would be complete without telling "De Tar Baby."
I am world famous for telling this story.
One day, Brer Fox and
Brer Bear wuz sittin' round on Chickapin Ridge, talkin' about de way Brer
Rabbit wuz always cuttin' up capers an actin' so fresh.
Brer Rabbit's gettin'
much too sassy," say Brer Fox to Brer Bear.
gettin' much too bossy," say Brer Bear to Brer Fox.
talk much to biggity," say Brer Bear to de Brer Fox.
"I don't like de
way Brer Rabbit go prancin' lippity clippity lippity clippity down de
road," say Brer Bear.
"Some day I'm
goin' ter ketch Brer Rabbit an pull out his mustarshes, pripp! propp! pripp!
propp!" say Brer Fox.
"Some day I'm
goin' ter ketch Brer Rabbit and knock his head clean off, blim, blam! blim,
blam!" say Brer Bear.
Right den, Brer Fox
get a powerful big idea. "I'm
goin' ter ketch Brer Rabbit now."
Well suh, Brer Fox
went straight ter wurk. First he
got some tar. Den, he make it
inter a shape, sorter like a baby, wid arms and legs, a stummoch, an a head.
"Now," he say, "we got ter make dis Tar-Baby look
real." Wid dat, he pull some
hairs, plip! plip! right outer Brer Bear's back, and stick um on de
Tar-Baby's head. He snatch off
Brer Bear's yellow hat and his own blue coat, and he put um on de Tar-Baby.
"Come now, Brer Bear, help me carry dis Tar-Baby ter de big road
where Brer Rabbit's sure to come."
Dey took de Tar-Baby,
and dey sot him down under a tree at de side of de road, sorter like he
mighter been restin'. Den, Brer
Fox and Brer Bear lay down in de bushes ter wait fer Brer Rabbit.
Dey didn't have ter
wait long. Purty soon, dey heard
a whistlin' an a hummin', and along come Brer Rabbit prancin' lippity
clippity, sassy ez a mockin' bird. All
't once, he spy de Tar-Baby.
sing out Brer Rabbit.
De Tar-Baby, he say
nothin', an Brer Fox and Brer Bear, dey lay low in de bushes and dey say
Brer Rabbit wait fer
de Tar-Baby ter answer. Den he
say, louder dan before, "What's de matter wid you? I said howdy do.
Is you deaf? If you is, I
can holler louder."
De Tar-Baby, he say
nothin', an Brer Fox and Brer Bear, dey lay low.
Den Brer Rabbit
holler real loud, at de Tar-Baby, loud ez he can. "Where's your politeness?
Ain't you goin' ter say howdy do like respectubble folks say
when dey meet up on de road?
De Tar-Baby, he say
nothin', and Brer Fox and Brer Bear, dey lay low.
Now Brer Rabbit
sorter mad. He clinch his fist
and he walk right up close ter de Tar-Baby.
"If you don't say howdy do by de time I count three, I'm
goin' ter blip you in de nose."
Now de Brer Rabbit he start countin', "One, two,. . ."
But de Tar-Baby, he
say nothin', an Brer Fox and Brer Bear, dey just wink der eyes and grin and
dey lay low.
yell Brer Rabbit. Now he mighty
mad. He draw back his right fist,
and blip! he hit de Tar-Baby smack in de nose.
But Brer Rabbit's right fist stuck der in de tar.
Brer Rabbit he can't pull it loose.
Now Brer Rabbit
turrible mad. "Let go my
fist!" he holler. Wid dat,
he draw back his other fist, and blip! again he hit de Tar-Baby smack
in de nose. But dis fist stuck
der in de tar too. He can't pull
De Tar-Baby, he say
nothin', an Brer Fox and Brer Bear dey sorter chuckle in der stummocks an dey
"If you don't
let go my fists," holler Brer Rabbit, "I'm goin' ter kick you teef
right outer your mouf!"
Well suh, Brer Rabbit
kicked. First he pull back one
behind foot, an pow! he hit de Tar-Baby in de jaw.
But Brer Rabbit's behind foot stuck in de tar.
Den he pull back de other behind foot.
Den, pow! Brer Rabbit hit de Tar-Baby in the stummock wid de
behind foot. Dis foot stuck der in de tar too.
"If you don't
let go my behind foots," squall out Brer Rabbit to de Tar-Baby, "I'm
goin' ter butt you wid my head till you ain't got no bref left in your
Brer Rabbit butted,
but his head stuck der in de tar. Now
Brer Rabbit's two fists, his two behind foots, and his head wuz all stuck in
de Tar-Baby. He pushed an he
pull, but de more he try ter get unstuck-up, de stucker-up he got. Soon Brer Rabbit is so stuck up he can't skacely move his
Now Brer Fox and Brer
Bear come outer de bushes, and dey feel mighty good.
Dey dance round and round Brer Rabbit, laffin' and hollerin' fit ter
"We sure ketched
you dis time, Brer Rabbit," say Brer Bear.
"You better say
your prayers, Brer Rabbit," say Brer Fox to him, "cause dis is de
very last day of your life."
Brer Rabbit, he
shiver an trimblel, cause he wuz in a mighty bad fix and he wuz mighty skeered
of de Brer Fox and de Brer Bear. But
right den Brer Rabbit set his mind aworkin' how ter get hisself outer dat fix
Rabbit," say Brer Bear, "you been bouncin' round dis neighborhood
bossin' everybody fer a long time. Now
I'm de boss, and I'm goin' ter knock your head clean off."
Brer Fox, "Dat's too easy and too quick.
We got ter make him suffer."
Rabbit", he say, "you been sassin' me, stickin' your head inter my
bizness fer years and years. Now
I got you. I'm goin' ter fix up a
great big fire. Den, when it's
good and hot, I'm goin' ter drop you in an roast you, right here dis very
Now Brer Rabbit ain't
really skeered any more, cause he got an idea how he goin' ter get loose.
But he talk like he's de most skeered rabbit in all dis wurld.
"I don't care what you do wid me," he say, pretendin' ter
shake and quake all over, "just so you don't fling me over dese bushes
into dat brier-patch. Roast me
just ez hot ez you please, but don't fling me in dat brier-patch!"
"Hold on a
minute," say Brer Bear, tappin' Brer Fox on de shoulder.
"It's goin' ter be a lot of trouble ter roast Brer Rabbit.
Furst, we'll have ter fetch a big pile of kindlin' wood.
Den we'll have ter make de big fire."
Brer Fox scratched
his head. "Dat's so.
Well den, Brer Rabbit, I'm goin' ter hang you."
"Hang me just ez
high ez you please," say Brer Rabbit to Brer Fox, "but please don't
fling me in dat brier-patch!"
"It's goin' ter
be a lot of trouble ter hang Brer Rabbit," say Brer Bear.
"Furst, we'll have ter fetch a big long rope."
say Brer Fox. "Well den,
Brer Rabbit, I'm goin' ter drown you."
"Drown me just
ez deep wz you please," say Brer Rabbit, "but please, please,
don't fling me in dat brier-patch.
"It's goin' ter
be a lot of trouble ter drown Brer Rabbit," say Brer Bear.
"Furst, we'll have ter carry him way down to de river."
say Brer Fox. "Well, Brer
Rabbit, I expect de best way is ter skin you. Come on, Brer Bear, let's get started."
say Brer Rabbit, Pull out my ears, snatch off my legs and chop off my tail but
please, please, PLEASE, Brer Fox an Brer Bear, don't fling me in
Now Brer Bear sorter
grumble. "Wait a minute,
Brer Fox. It ain't goin' ter be
much fun ter skin Brer Rabbit, cause he ain't skeered of bein' skinned."
"But he sure is
skeered of dat brier-patch!" say Brer Fox. "An dat's just where he's goin' ter go! Dis
is de end of Brer Rabbit!" Wid
dat, he yank Brer Rabbit off de Tar-Baby an he fling him, kerblam!
right inter de middle of de brier-patch.
Well suh, der wuz a
considerabul flutter in de place where Brer Rabbit struck dose brier-bushes.
Ouch!" he yell. He
screech and he squall! De ruckus
an de hullabaloo wuz awful. Den,
by-m-by de Ooo! an de Oow! and de Ouch! come only in a
weak tired whisper. Brer Rabbit
lay perfectly still with a lily on his chest.
Brer Fox and Brer
Bear, dey listen and grin. Den
dey shake hands and dey slap each other on de back.
ain't goin' ter be sassy no more!" say de Brer Fox.
ain't goin' ter be bossy no more!" say de Brer Bear.
ain't goin' ter do nothin' no more!" say de Brer Fox and de Brer
"Dis is de end!
Brer Rabbit is dead!"
But right den, Brer
Fox and Brer Bear hear a scufflin' mongst de leaves, way at de other end of de
brier-patch. And lo an behold,
who do dey see scramblin' out from de bushes, frisky ez a cricket, but Brer
Rabbit hisself! Brer Rabbit,
whistlin' and singin' and combin' de last bit of tar outer his mustarshes wid
a piece of de brier-bush!
"Howdy, Brer Fox
and Brer Bear!" he holler. "I
told you an told you not to fling me in dat brier-patch.
Dat's de place in all dis world I love de very best.
Dat brier-patch is de place where I wuz born!"
Wid dat, he prance
away, lippity-clippity, laffin' and laffin' till he can't laff no more.
My mother told this
story to me at bedtime. It is
another one I like to tell.
Epamanondus was a
little boy who lived with his mammy. Everyday
he would visit his auntie and every day his auntie would give him something to
take home to his mammy.
One day when
Epamanondus was visiting his auntie, his auntie gave him a big piece of
chocolate cake to take home to his mammy.
Epamanondus got a good grip on the cake and squeezed it tight in his
little fist as he hurried home. Frosting
ozed out between his fingers. When
he got home his mammy said, "Epamanondus, what have you there?"
Epamanondus said, "Cake, Mammy."
Epamanondus, you ain't got the sense you wuz born with.
That ain't no way to carry cake. The
next time you go to Aunties house and she gives you cake, this is what I want
you to do. Take off your hat and
put the cake on your head, put the hat over the cake and come along home.
The next day
Epamanondus went to Aunties house and she gave him some nice, freshly churned
butter to take home to his mammy. Epamanondus
remembered what his mammy told him and took off his hat, placed the butter on
his head, put his hat over the butter, and went along home.
The sun shone hot on his head and the butter melted and ran down his
face and dripped on his clothes. When
he got home his mammy said, "Epamanondus, what have you there?"
Epamanondus said, "Butter, Mammy."
Epamanondus, you ain't got the sense you wuz born with.
That ain't no way to carry butter.
The next time you go to Aunties house and she gives you butter, this is
what I want you to do. Take it
down to the river and cool it in the water, and cool it in the water, and cool
it in the water, 'till it's nice and firm.
Then wrap it up in nice wet leaves and hurry on home."
The next day
Epamanondus went to Aunties house and she gave him a new born puppy to take
home to his mammy. Epamanondus
remembered what his mammy told him and. He
took the puppy down to the river and cooled it in the water, and cooled it in
the water, and cooled it in the water until it was nearly drowned.
Then he wrapped it up in nice wet leaves and went along home.
When he got home his
mammy said, "Epamanondus, what have you there?"
Epamanondus said, "Puppy, Mammy."
Epamanondus, you ain't got the sense you wuz born with.
That ain't no way to carry a puppy.
The next time you go to Aunties house and she gives you a puppy, this
is what I want you to do. Find a
nice piece of string and tie one end around the puppy's neck.
Put the other end in your hand. Set
the puppy on the ground and come along home, and the puppy will follow."
The next day
Epamanondus went to Aunties house and she gave him a loaf of freshly baked
bread to take home to his mammy. Epamanondus
remembered what his mammy told him. He
found a nice piece of string and tied one end around the loaf of bread.
He put the other end of the string in his hand.
He set the loaf of bread on the ground and went along home, and the
bread followed, through the dirt and the dust and the puddles in the road.
When he got home his
mammy said, "Epamanondus, what have you there?"
Epamanondus said, "Bread, Mammy."
Epamanondus, you ain't got the sense you wuz born with.
That ain't no way to carry bread.
The next time you to Aunties house you ain't going.
I'll go myself."
The next day Mammy
got ready to go to aunties house and she called Epamanondus to her.
"Epamanondus, I'm going to Aunties house and you're staying home.
Now, I just baked some nice pumpkin pies and set them on the back porch
to cool. Mind you, be mighty
careful how you step in the middle of them."
As soon as Mammy was
gone Epamanondus remembered what his mammy told him. He went out on the porch and was very careful to step right
smack dab exactly in the middle of each and every one of those pumpkin pies.
It looked extremely
rocky for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood two
to four, with but one inning left to play.
So, when Cooney died
at second, and Burrows did the same,
A pallor wreathed the
features of the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got
up to go, leaving there the rest,
With that hope which
springs eternal within the human breast.
For they thought:
"If only Casey could get a whack at that,"
They'd put even money
now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded
Casey, and likewise so did Blake,
And the former was a
pudd'n, and the latter was a fake.
So on that stricken
multitude a deathlike silence sat;
For there seemed but
little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a
single, to the wonderment of all.
And the much-despised
Blakey "tore the cover off the ball."
And when the dust had
lifted, and they saw that had occurred,
There was Blakey safe
at second, and Flynn a-huggin third.
Then from the
gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell--
It rumbled in the
mountaintops, it rattled in the dell;
It struck upon the
hillside and rebounded on the flat;
For Casey, might
Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in
Casey's manner as he stepped into his place,
There was pride in
Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face;
And when responding
to the cheers he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the
crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes
were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt,
Five thousand tongues
applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then when the
writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance glanced in
Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the
leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood
a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy
batsman the ball unheeded sped;
"That ain't my
style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches,
black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of
the storm waves on the stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! kill
the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand; And it's likely they'd have
killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of
Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the raisin
tumult, he made the game go on;
He signaled to the
pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still
ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."
cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered
But one scornful look
from Casey and the audience was awed;
They saw his face
grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that
Casey wouldn't let the ball go by again.
The sneer is gone
from Casey's lips, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel
vengeance his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher
holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is
shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this
favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing
somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are
laughing and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy
in Mudville-mighty Casey has struck out.
Sherry and I like the
music of John Denver and our family theme has been "The Eagle and the
Hawk". We can all sing it
and love the words.
THE EAGLE AND THE
I am the Eagle I live
in high places
that reach to the sky
I am the hawk and
there's blood on my feathers
the time is too early
it soon will be neigh
And all those who see
me and all who believe in me
carry the freedom I
feel when I fly
Come dance with the
west wind and sail over the mountain top
down through the
canyons and up to the sky
Soar through the
meadows and reach for the heavens
all that you can be,
not what you are.
Life Story of Glen T
Written by his
mother, Mabel Martineau
I was born on the
Ninth day of May, 1949 in Rigby, Idaho in Jefferson County.
I was the fifth child and first son of Thouis Eldon and Mabel June
My parents had been
out of work for several months at the time of my birth so my father sold his
pinto horse "Lucky" to the people who owned the hospital to pay the
bill. My family had just moved to
Ririe from Mink Creek, Idaho because my father had found a job in Idaho Falls.
When I was born they were still staying with my grandparents because
they had not been able to find a house to rent so my first few weeks were
I was one month old
when we moved into a little house next to my grandfather's.
We lived there until October 1, 1950.
Then we moved into a big two story house on a farm in Ammon, Idaho.
This is the first place I remember.
On December 10, 1950
my little sister, Joy, was born.
In May 1951 my mother
and my two oldest sisters June and Wilma were in a car wreck and were all in
the hospital for several weeks and had to stay in bed at home nearly all
summer. My cousin Jean Bowles
came to stay with us while they were laid up.
She was a good substitute mother and took real good care of the baby
and me. I don't remember much
about that summer because I was only 2 years old but they tell me that on the
day my mother came home from the hospital I fell through an open trap door in
the floor of the porch and lit on my head at the bottom of the steps.
My father was scared stiff but all I got was a big goose egg on my
About the first thing
I really remember was one time I was laying on the foot bridge catching leaves
in the ditch when I fell into the ditch. I went under and came up yelling. I got to the edge but I couldn't climb out because it was too
slippery, so I hung on to the grass until mother and my sisters came and
pulled me out.
In November 1952 we
bought a new home at 2105 Avocet Drive in Hillview Village.
This was a housing project close to Ammon.
My little brother,
Robert (Bobby) was born June 22, 1953. I
remember bringing my little friends in to see him.
Daddy built a corral
at the back of the lot where we kept our horses. June had a gray horse and Daddy had a tall sorrel.
All the kids in the neighborhood liked to come and see the houses and I
would give them rides on "Hammy" (June's horse.)
My best friends were Barr Cannon and Gary Ogzewalla.
They were both older than I was. We
spent many happy hours riding "Hammy".
I was five years old
when my grandfather Tyler died and soon after that my grandmother died.
I remember them and remember seeing them in their coffins but I don't
remember much about them.
I started school in
Ammon in the fall of 1955. My
first grade teacher was Mrs. Joanne Jorgensen.
I liked her very much.
In November that year
we had a very cold spell. I
usually walked home from school about six blocks. One day a bad blizzard came up but I didn't realize how bad
it was. I put on my coat and
started home as usual. I didn't
get far before I fell down in the snow and got my hands all wet. It was 20 degrees below zero.
I was so cold I guess I couldn't think to put my hands in my pockets
and I didn't have my gloves. I
just held my cold hands out and struggled on through the blizzard. I was about a block from home when I met my father coming to
get me. The car had been stuck in
the snow and he had to dig it out or he would have come sooner.
My hands were frozen. Ice
cycles were hanging from my fingers. Daddy
took me to the doctor and he kept me there for several hours to watch my
hands. He said if I had been out
for just a few minutes more I probably would have lost my fingers. As it was all the skin came off and my fingers were left
crooked. I had to miss a week of
school because I couldn't use my hands.
Christmas that year
we went to Arizona to see my grandfather Martineau. It was the only time I ever saw him alive.
He was 91 years old. I
remember that he lived in a little house near the Mesa temple.
There was a date tree in the front yard and an orange tree in the back
yard. We thought it was wonderful
to see roses blooming in the winter. Our
whole family went on this trip. There
were nine of us. We drove a big
old Nash car. Every time we
stopped we would count off when we got back in the car so we wouldn't leave
This was one of the
best Christmas' I can remember even though we didn't have presents because we
spent the money for the trip.
In second grade my
mother was my teacher. We were
the luckiest class because we got to have both Mrs. Jorgensen and Mrs.
Martineau for teachers because after that year they both taught first grade.
A Tribute to Sherry
Written by Glen T
Around June 1984
I first met Sherry on
Halloween night 1970. Upon
returning home from hunting, tired, dirty, and blood stained, I found a
beautiful girl in the kitchen. It
seemed odd that she was the only one home, but having just returned from a
mission the week before, I was to naive to recognize a set up.
That was the start of
a friendship that would become eternal. With
a firm understanding that neither of us, especially me, had any
interest in marriage, we became very close friends.
It was 5 months later
while we were planning our "un"engagement party that we decided to
get married. Nine months after
that on December 18, 1971 our lives were sealed together in the Idaho Falls
Now came the start of
our great adventure. We soon
found that there is more to adventuring than smelling spring breezes from the
top of the castle. There is a
certain amount of very great adventure spent in the torture chambers below the
dungeon. Within two weeks Sherry
had morning sickness 24 hours a day. She
dropped all her classes except one. Eleven
years and six children later Sherry still hasn't picked up those classes.
However, she has received or earned degrees in Homemaking, diaper
changing, canning, spaghetti making, and healing wounds.
She has also earned a Masters in Accounting and Financial Management.
No one in this world can squeeze more profit out of a Tupperware party,
or stretch a dollar as far as Sherry.
Likewise, no one can
save as much at a sale or spend as little at a restaurant.
At the present time she is learning her right hand from the left and
when she gets that done, I'm sure she will be the undisputed champion of
I love the way her
smile literally goes from ear to ear. Her
laugh is genuine, and her touch can make all my problems vanish.
She is the best friend I've ever had, including my horse, and is the
light and love of my life.