Again, we are face to face with the realities of eternal life. George Smith had been in failing health for some time. The lines in his face were a clear indication of his pain and suffering.
Last night, as he lay in state, he seemed to be at rest and peace. Each of us is one step nearer that same experience. In life, George was fortunate and blessed with the kindness and attention of loved ones who really cared for him.
George's life has already been reviewed for us here. Members of his father's family first came to Manassa in July, 1879, and camped on main street. They had come from Bluff, Utah, to Alamosa, Colorado, for supplies. In 1880, the older members of his father's family came to arrange for permanent settlement here and in 1882, George and the immediate Smith family came to settle, when George was only four years old. The family pioneered here in a bleak desert, where cold winds blew and the snow came early. Pioneer homes were not well-built, they were not insulated, and they were not heated by such means as coal, oil, or gas. Rather, the homes were built of green cottonwood logs, chinked with mud. When the logs shrunk, the chinking had to be done all over again. There were no electric lights, telephones or radios. The walls were not covered with wall paper, and the floors were not polished. There was no modern furniture and there were no automobiles, trucks or tractors, and (however) there were a few good horses. But the pioneers bowed and prayed and surely learned that they were children of God.
George grew up to be kind, considerate, mild-tempered and long-suffering. Some may have thought that George was not active in the Church. They did not know of his physical handicap and that he was always suffering. But, he did have a testimony and great faith. Anticipating his funeral, he had requested that there be very little eulogy; rather, he wanted us to discuss the principles in which he believed. He knew that there are no conversions at funeral services. He knew that faith comes slowly, that it grows and develops with righteous living and prayer, and by overcoming temptation and evil. Worthwhile things result from long and great effort.
When missionaries are set apart, they are instructed to leave the mysteries alone, and to preach and teach (the) first principles of the Gospel. This was George's belief. It was the patten he followed when on his mission to the Southern States from 1899 to 1900. George followed the pattern of John the Baptist who taught faith, repentance and baptism. George believed in absolute repentance if one is to be brought forth as the first fruits of the resurrection.
When I was his bishop, I called on George for Gospel sermons and he always responded, teaching the first principles with a fine knowledge of the scriptures and with the fervency of John the Baptist.
George bore a lifetime of suffering as his cross to bear. He contracted malaria on his mission in 1899-1900. When the ailment recurred after his marriage, he went to Idaho and Utah to regain his health. While breaking a bronco for a rancher (in Idaho), he was thrown and the horse fell on him breaking his leg. Two silver plates were used to heal his leg and, for eight years, he made many visits to hospitals for treatment. He never complained that the pain never left him. That was his cross.
Into a cross maker's shop one day came a man who wearily took down his cross from his shoulder and set it on the floor. "And what can I do for you?" the cross maker asked him. "I want to exchange my burden," said the man. "This one is too heavy for me to carry. I stagger under the load." "Very well," replied the cross maker. "Take your pick of all these crosses and see which suits you best." So the man gladly set about trying them on. The first was very light -- for a moment or two -- but as he walked about, testing it, he concluded that it wouldn't do, for soon it became heavier than his old one. So he tried another, and another, and another, until at last he found one lighter than all the rest. "I can bear this one easily," he told the cross maker. "May I have it?" "Very well," the cross make answered, "but that is the one you brought in with you." George never complained and bore his cross proudly.
(The remarks above by Winfred S. Haynie were assembled from notes in his personal files by his son Donald L. Haynie.)
VISTO MAY ROGERS SMITH
(by Margaret Smith Chapman , June 1986)
Visto May Rogers was born to Enoch Milton and Margret Reese Rogers in Dealville, Alexander, North Carolina, August 27, 1880. May was fourteen when her mother passed away, leaving her husband, Enoch, with eight children. May became her father's right-hand helper in managing the affairs of the family. She always gave praise to neighboring sisters who taught her how to cook, mend clothes, and render lard and care for meat when her father butchered. She often mentioned Sisters Patterson and Grantham.
May became an excellent cook and proficient seamstress. While her fiance was on a mission, she worked as a seamstress for Fanny Beacroft, who operated a dress shop on the corner of Main Street in Manassa. (Where the Town Hall now stands.) Until her children were all grown, she made all of their clothes. Where ever she lived, she always hand made the temple burial clothes for the dead, until they could be purchased through the church.
May started dating George Essex Smith, in their teens, when they were teamed to braid the May-pole. She was outgoing by nature, loved people, loved socials, and above all else, loved to dance. May and George were married in Manassa, August 1, 1901, at the home of his parents, Silas Sanford Smith, and Martha Eliza Bennett Smith.
The following year, November 8, 1902 their first child, May Rhue was born. I 1903, they moved to Layton, Utah, where George, Jr, was born on August 5, 1904. In 1905, they moved to Moore, Idaho, where land was being let for homesteading. In the spring of 1906, George filed on a homestead in the fertile sagebrush valley of the Lost River. Another daughter, Margaret, was born on May 17, 1906. On January 16, 1908, a baby boy, Bennett was born. He lived only a few days, and is buried in the Moore cemetery. In February of 1911, May traveled back to Layton, where Sanford was born February 20, 1911, in the Kaysville hospital. Baby Martha was born on the Idaho homestead, on August 20, 1915. While the family was en route to the Uintah Basin, to again take up a new homestead, Martha died November 21, 1915. She is buried in the Kaysville, Utah cemetery. They youngest child of the family, Milton Ralph, was born October 26, 1918, in Roosevelt, Utah.
Visto May Rogers Smith, was a 'COULD DO ANYTHING PERSON.' She was well known for her sewing, rug making, and her beautiful,hand made quilts. She was also a very good cook. On wash days, we were sure to have beans and baked potatoes for dinner, we could count on it. (They were oh so good!!) She never used recipes, but her butter-milk biscuits would put the highly-regarded 'Kentucky Fried Chicken' ones to shame. But the one thing her family have always remembered was her home-made taffy candy. Sometimes it was made with a sugar base, sometimes plain honey or molasses. In any event, we all got into the 'pulling' act. Dad was always the best puller of all. In Idaho, the winter nights were very long, so Family Home evening was an almost every evening event for us. Our treat varied from taffy to buttered popcorn, or popcorn balls, or apples. Sometimes, it was cookies and milk, punch, or lemonade. Mom and Dad, played the harmonica and they entertained us with solos and duets. They also sang to us and read to us. In the summer months, when we could be outside, Mother often played marbles, hopscotch, jump rope, and other games.
We never bought a ball, yet we played ball a lot. But we had the best balls to throw, catch or bat that you can imagine. Mother made them for us. Each ball wore well, in spite of the hard use it got. She would carefully select a good cork that she had saved from the jugs and bottles of that day. (cork was used for lids) May would start winding yarn around the chosen cork. As she wound the yarn around the cork, she would stop and securely sew the yarn in place. By the time the ball was a little larger than a baseball, it would be as round, as tight, and as smooth as any baseball, and almost as hard. They wore well, but we wore out a great many of them.
Dad worked at odd jobs to provide for the family while improving on the homestead. He was breaking broncos for a neighboring rancher. When one of the horses was suddenly startled, it reared back and fell on Dad, crushing his leg from foot to knee. He was along time in the Blackfoot hospital. Mother would not hear to the doctor's verdict that the leg be amputated. He was finally released to a nurse's care, at her home in Arco. Arco was closer to the homestead, so we could visit him often.
When he was finally released to come home, Mother went to a sale and purchased a red velvet couch with a 'raised head'. (Dad still could not walk upon his leg.) It was placed by the kitchen window so he could visit with her and also see what was going on. A couple of days later, as we were walking home from school, we saw a heavy smoke curling upward. It looked like our house was on fire. We ran, but as we approached the house, we discovered Mother in the yard burning the beautiful red couch. She had drenched it with kerosene, and as it burned she was chopping away at it with an ax. Not until she calmed down did we learn the 'why'. Dad had started itching while lying on the 'red couch'. After examining Dad and the 'red couch', she discovered it was alive with bed bugs.
She moved Dad to a chair and by sheer strength of anger, dragged the 'red couch' outside and away from the house, where she completely destroyed it.
Through all the many moves May was required to make in the sojourn throughout Idaho, Utah, and Colorado, she never complained, but she never lost her homesickness for Manassa. The family returned to Manassa in November, 1921. Her son Sanford, died December 6, 1928, and her beloved husband George, died 27 May, 1949. May passed away in her home in Manassa, June 27, 1954. She is buried beside her husband and near her son Sanford, in the Old Manassa cemetery.
Jerry, I am learning so much from you, I never knew that Grandpa served a mission. I don't know if anyone else is involved with this but I am loving it. Thanks for sharing!
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