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 And now the end is near,  And so I face the final curtain.

My friend, I'll say it clear.  I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.

I've lived a life that's full, I traveled each and every highway.

And more, much more than this, I did it my way.

 Regrets, I've had a few,  But then again, too few to mention.

I did what I had to do,  And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each chartered course,  Each careful step along the byway.

And more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Yes there were times, I'm sure you knew, When I bit off more than I could chew.

But through it all, when there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out.

I faced it all, and I stood tall, And did it my way.

  I've loved, I've laughed and cried,  I've had my fill, my share of losing.

And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that,  And may I say "Not in a shy way."

Oh no.  Oh no, not me.  I did it my way.

  For what is a man, what has he got,  If not himself, then he has not

To say the things he truly feels,  And not the words of one who kneels.

The record shows I took the blows, And did it my way.

Original French words by Giles Thibault, English words by Paul Anka


Fudge, Fudge, Call the judge

Mama's got a new born baby

Oh joy, it's a boy

And Papa's almost crazy


            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 brother.

            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 it. 

            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, 1965.            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.

Dear Joy,

            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 being saved.

            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 and 14.

                                                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 their own.

            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 motel.

            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 calling.

            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 fight.

            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 lives.

            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, 1990. 

            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 cured.

            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 Easter weekend.

            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."                                             Alicia Martineau

            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 saw". 

            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.  Big deal.

            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 and Scouting.

            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.

No 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.

"Brer Rabbit's gettin' much too bossy," say Brer Bear to Brer Fox.

"Brer Rabbit 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.

"Howdy!" 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 nothin'.

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.

"Three!" 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 it loose.

De Tar-Baby, he say nothin', an Brer Fox and Brer Bear dey sorter chuckle in der stummocks an dey lay low.

"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 body!"

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 eyeballs.

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 kill.

"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 real quick.

"Brer 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."

"No," say Brer Fox, "Dat's too easy and too quick.  We got ter make him suffer."

"Brer 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 day."

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."

"Dat's so," 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."

"Dat's so," say Brer Fox.  "Well, Brer Rabbit, I expect de best way is ter skin you.  Come on, Brer Bear, let's get started."

"Skin me," 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 dat brier-patch!"

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.  "Ooo!  Oow!  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.

"Brer Rabbit ain't goin' ter be sassy no more!" say de Brer Fox.

"Brer Rabbit ain't goin' ter be bossy no more!" say de Brer Bear.

"Brer Rabbit ain't goin' ter do nothin' no more!" say de Brer Fox and de Brer Bear.

"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."

"Cake!  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."

"Butter!  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."

"Puppy!  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."

"Bread!  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.

Casey at the Bat

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."


"Fraud!"  cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered           "Fraud"

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.

Ernest Lawrence Thayer

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.


I am the Eagle I live in high places

rocky cathedrials 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 Martineau

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 Tyler Martineau.

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 spent there.

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 forehead.

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 anyone.

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 Temple.

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 everything.

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.