Dutch Sabbath

Nothing too much to report this day.  We went to Antwerp for Stake Conference.  It was a live broadcast from Salt Lake City.  Yep, we came all the way to attend church in Belgium broadcast to us in English!  We did get to hear a blessing in Dutch, but that was about it.  For those non-English speakers, it was translated for them in the main chapel.

We enjoyed the rest of the day with the Cazier’s.  We enjoyed some sandwiches for lunch, some shrimp/pasta/zucchini dish for dinner.  Both were very good.  They have been good to us.  Letting us use their laundry, spare room, and dining room.  They drove us to Vianden, Luxembourg, and Antwerp.  I do not know how we will ever repay them.  We certainly appreciate their hospitality and friendship.

We are planning on heading out for Paris tomorrow.  Although that plan may very well change as we hear of a strike with the French railways.  We may reverse our trip and head to The Hague tomorrow instead.

What Temple Work Means to Me by Rosa (Nelson) Jonas Andersen

(I have maintained punctuation and spelling)

I was asked to talk a few minutes on what temple work means to me.  This I shall do to the best of my ability.  First I shall talk about the book called ADDED UPON.  No doubt most of you have read this book.  If you haven’t it would be well worth your time to do so.  We all know we existed spiritually before we came to this earth.  Two people, a man and a women, were chosen to come to this earth to fulfill a mission here and take up a body.

They came, the woman was born in Denmark.  The man was born on a farm in America.  The woman, named Ensign emegrated to America.  When she got here she got work on a farm doing house work.  One afternoon while working, a man came to the door and asked if he might have something to eat.  While he was eatin they began to chat, she found out that his name was Rupert and that he was looking for work, that he prefered doing farm work.  Later when the farmer came into the house Ensign told him about Rupert.  Rupert was immediately hired as the farmer needed help badly.  The young couple became friendly, fell in love and after a summer of courtship they were married in the temple.  Rupert had some land of his own, left to him by his father.  They made a home on this land and raised a nice family.  During the winter Rupert did work in the mines in order to get extra money.  They lived happily together for some time.  Finally one winter day Rupert was killed in the mines leaving Ensign alone on this earth to finish raising her family.  The children grew up one by one.  They married leaving Ensign alone, after a few years called home.

Rupert was there to met Ensign, they knew each other, they could remember before they came down to earth, how at that time they wondered if they would be to gether on this earth.  They had been, they smiled at each other and were content.

This story causes me to think of my parents life, being like unto it.  My mothers parents emigrated from Sweeden.  Mother was one of the first baby girls born in Logan Utah.  When she was nine years of age her mother died.  Later grandfather remarried, marrying a woman with a large family.  After a time mother was forced to earn her own living wherever she could get work.

She found employment in Pocatello Idaho.  There she worked at a boarding house waiting on tables.  Here she met Joseph S Jonas, like Rupert and Ensign one summer of courtship and they were married.  Father being a Rail Road man they moved from one place to another.  They too raised a family of seven children, four girls and three boys.  Along about the spring of 1910 we were living at Thorp Kittitas Co. Washington.

One night after a terrible storm a flood came causing much damage.  Trapping many people in their homes.  Being R. R. man father was called upon to help rescue these people, and through the wet and exposure he suffered in helping these people he became very sick and was in the hospital for six months, with rhumitisum and pneumonia.  He was so sick he had to be turned on sheets.  He was a staunch catholic and did not believe in mormonism.

While father was in the hospital mother took us little ones and went to visit her brother August Nelson who lived in Salt Lake City.  Through the worey for father and we little ones mother became very nervous, her heart became affected and she became very ill.  One night she passed away from a heart attack, if it had been now days I do believe she could of been helped, by the wonderful medicines we now have to work with.  But we children didn’t know what to do.  We were left alone in the care of her older brother with no mother, and father so desperately sick.

We feared father was too sick to receive bad news and were afraid a shock like this would prove fatal to him.  So we told him nothing about mothers death.  After the funeral I went to visit my father at the hospital who was still in Washington.  Father a catholic and mother a L. D. S.

At heart like Rupert and Ensign they were meant for each other, for mother’s spirit did not loose any time singling her mate out.  For when I entered the room father said “well she is gone isn’t she?”  I said what do you mean?”  Father said “your mother she came to my bed side at 15 min. to ten on the night of Dec. 23, I know all about it.  This is proof to me that they were meant for each other.  So I am having my mother sealed to my father for all time and eternity, as my father since that time has pass away to be with my mother.  I know they met in the hereafter recognised each other, and will be happy when I get their temple work done.

It was while we children were staying at mothers br4others home in Salt Lake City that we were babtized into the mormong church.  The Lord works in a natural way, he braught us back to where mother left off as a girl.  There most of us lived untill we were fully grown, married in the temple and went on missions.  But father would not accept.

My baby brother Joseph when he grew older went back to his father and tried to convert him to the mormon religion, but to no avail.

Years went by and father became ill again.  I sent for him to come to my home.  He lay desperatly ill for days.  The night before hr died he was so very ill, he called me to come saying “Rose offer a word of prayer for me” I knew then the hard shell about father had soffened, as even that much to his mormon daughter was a great deal for dad.  I prayed for him, but he passed away the next night.

I am thankful to my heavenly father there is a plan whereby we children who were left, were able to have these two people united in eternal marriage with their children sealed to them.  I feel with in my self they are happy and satisfied.  May I ever be worthey of entering into their presence when it is my turn to answer Gods call, is my prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Aeroplane squalls

I thought I would take an opportunity to voice a complaint.  I know it isn’t normally in my nature to complain, usually I try to give the benefit of the doubt or to press forward with the ‘can do’ attitude.  But since nobody else seems too concerned about it, I will air my concerns out where a few may agree.
What ever happened to service?  What happened to the customer, the consumer holding a special place for businesses?  It seems somewhere the status quo, business as usual, and possibly profits have taken over.
Two weeks ago I took a pickup in to have it serviced.  They told me it would be ready on Wednesday.  I returned on Wednesday to have them tell me that more work had to be done and I needed to authorize the work.  What happened to calling me to ask to authorize?  What happened to calling me to let me know the pickup would not be done?  I let it slide and authorized them to do the work.  They then told me it would be done on Friday.  I made it clear to them the truck had to be done first thing on Monday morning because I was supposed to drive it to Pasco, Washington for work.  Not only did I need to drive the truck, it would be left there so taking another vehicle was not an option.  Well, Friday arrived and I called in to make sure it was done, and I was assured the job was completed.  I drove in on Friday to pick it up and it wasn’t even out of the back of the shop yet, let alone completed!  Once again, I let my irritation slide, the changing of my plans, and the trip in to pick up the truck.  Remembering, this requires another person’s help to get a ride in to pick up the truck.  Monday rolls around and the truck is still not completed!  Nobody once again notified me, nobody told me anything.  Finally, Wednesday I pick up the truck, pay the bill, and head home.  My boss moved my trip to Pasco for the Monday after.
I then left my personal vehicle for a service.  The story goes on from there.  When I left my personal vehicle I made it very clear I would be in Pasco, Washington for the week and I would need to be notified if they had any problems or questions.  They said there would be no problem for my coming back the following week.  Well, today, I arrived to find my truck had been looked at but nothing had been done!  I was about ready to start swearing at the man!  He told me I had to authorize the work before it could be done because some gasket needed replaced.  I showed him right on the paper where it said I would be out of town and that I would need to be called.  I asked why I was not called.  He said he did not know.  I told him I had been dropped off and was taking my pickup with me.  I was not a pleased customer!  I drove out of the parking lot vowing I would never again do business of any type with Goode Motor in Burley or Rupert, Idaho.  They have forever lost my business.
In conversation afterward I found out my Dad has had the same problem.  He even notified the manager, Garth Williams of the issue.  I guess he took in his truck to be serviced and they started asking him a bunch of stupid questions.  The guy got huffy with him when Dad told him to go out and get the information from the truck.  After two episodes of this, Dad said he would never do business again with Goode Motor.  So all those who read, here are two customers who are highly unhappy with the business, especially with their service department.  They even gave Dad a coupon for service when he bought the truck and they would not honor the certificate later.  How is that for forging loyal customers.
That episode pretty much tainted the rest of my day for me.  Tonight I sat in the airport for my flight from Salt Lake City to Portland, Oregon.  Our flight was supposed to take off at 7:05 PM.  No, the flight was delayed.  Two hours later I finally board the plane.  Just to press the button on their customer service I went to the Southwest Airlines Ticket Counter and complained.  I told them there should be some reimbursement for my ordeal and they were putting me late.  I lied and said I was going to miss my business engagement.  They offered me their sympathies and basically wished me well.  I told them there was not point of going now and wanted a refund.  This request was denied with a document giving me a phone number to call my complaint.  You would think that customer service would be able to take care of a problem in the airport without my having to make a phone call to listen to some fake woman directing me.  What happened to honoring your word?  What happened to pleasing the customer?
Lastly, I completed McCullough’s 1776 this evening in my hours wait to board my delayed flight.  The discontent I noticed of poor service in the Ford dealership and in Southwest Airlines only turned into more rancor as I thought of what it was we fought for in the Revolutionary War.  We separated ourselves from Britain and fought a war for abuses less than what we currently face with our present government.  What is even more frustrating is the fact that we as Americans let business and government so dictate our lives.  Hey look, they are even going to give me $1,500 of my own money back and then want me to go spend it!  Well, geez, thanks for giving my own money back and then tell me what to do with it!

Passing of sand; Mr. E. E.

Today waiting for a stop light, I looked for a number in my cellular phone.  There I noticed a number for a friend who passed away a few months back.  I don’t know any reason to keep it anymore, so I deleted it.  The thought crossed my mind of another friend who had passed away and found his number.  I deleted it as well.  Again I find myself reflecting with the passing of another life.  There seems to have been a number of them lately.  Terry McCombs, David Donaldson, Justin Rose, and now Evan Elliott.
I learned of Evan’s death on Halloween.  Apparently he had a massive heart attack and died at home on the 24th.  There was a pang of guilt for having not written him back two weeks before when I had felt the prompting to do so.  I wrote some others I thought would be easier to write.  I guess I am absolved of the responsibility now.  His graveside service was just a few hours ago.
Once again, I reflect on the influence of another in my life with their passing.  The flood of memories come back.  This is a relationship I don’t know I will fully understand while in this life.
On my left knee, up a few inches and outwards is a scar I carry about an inch in length.  I still remember climbing over the industrial vacuum equipment and slicing it on the corner of duct sheet sitting there.  It was a deep cut and it bled nicely.  I didn’t have stitches but whenever I think of scars it is one of the two which first come to mind on my body.  I must have been only about 6.
I remember the morning I awoke with mom sitting on the bed.  It was downstairs at the old house along the freeway.  I was about 8.  Mom came to tell me that Grandma had found out about some things with Evan and that they would be getting a divorce.  I had no clue what that meant.  But he disappeared.  That is what divorce meant to me for several years.  The tone in which she told me was one of disappointment in Evan.  There were no harsh words of his character or personality which Mom would later spew about him.  I remember not understanding but feeling it would be okay because my Mother told me so.
I remember fishing many times with Evan as a young boy.  I don’t ever remember catching anything.  But it was fun to sit on the shore and fish.  I don’t even know that we ever really even talked.  The most common spots were fishing at the lake near Hwy 27/I84 and the lake near Hwy 30/I-84.  For all I know there are not even fish in those lakes.  I think they are man made.
It seemed a regular occasion we drove to the Paul Cemetery to maintain the long flower box seated on his parents grave.  I assume it is near the place where he and his wife Shirley are buried.  It was on those days I remember playing in the cemetery and enjoying the day.  I remember the day I stumbled on Wes Charles drunk next to a tombstone.  I knew him from Dad’s work and couldn’t understand why he was different.  I think that is the first time I realized people were different when they were drunk.  He was beside himself sobbing.  Evan explained to me that those stones were not just there for looks but were monuments to people who were buried beneath.  That was why Wes was upset, he presumably had family buried beneath.  I think this was my first introduction to understanding death.  Cemeteries horrified me afterward.  It wasn’t until my Great Grandmother’s funeral in 1987 that I saw a dead person and understood more of those people buried beneath the tombstones.  A large tombstone near the entrance of the Paul Cemetery became the image of my nightmares.  I have since made peace with death, but still the image of the large “Duff” tombstone seems to be the epitome of death for me.  It proclaimed the finality of death.  In later years learning the gospel and about the resurrection removed much of the nightmare, but it haunted me for a very long time.  I imagined in my mind the placing of a body into the ground and when nobody was around who remembered, as Evan regularly did, you were forever gone.  While Evan probably had no clue the effect of all this, he played a very real part of it.
There were many, many homes I went with Evan where he did sheetrock work.  Oddly, it is with Evan that I have my first memories of my Aunt Sergene.  We stopped at her and Bert’s place for something.
Growing up, Evan always seemed to be seated in the big leather chair in the family room at Grandma’s.  Somehow, I was oblivious, or he was just always good enough, that every time it seemed I passed the chair, usually at high speed, this arm would appear and scare the daylights out of me.  I guess he was just always in the chair enough that he became a part of the chair.  Perhaps it was such a rare thing he was in it that it scared me, I don’t know.  It was a good scare, not a bad scare.
Evan grew up in a home that was on the same property that Grandma’s house was.  I don’t remember the house standing, but I seem to remember the day it burned down.  The old barn out back of Grandma’s, the little tar paper shack, the hayrake were all part of what was once his childhood.  I felt a connection to it as he did.  I remember filling in what was left of the foundation years later and feeling the sadness of what passed with the house.  There was some debate that somebody burned it down, I don’t remember who was the one accused.  There were tombstones on the other side of the canal I remember Evan taking me to in the trees.  There was a tombstone there by the barn which would move around through the years.  I don’t know if they had anything to do with Evan’s ancestry, but he knew their location and felt enough to watch over them.
There were the occasional day when he would appear at our house along the freeway to visit.  Mother did not make him welcome from what I remember.  He longed to see us.  I always felt he favored “Sissy” over me but that was okay.  I knew he loved us.
I always remember keeping him at a distance.  I remember seeing Grandma crying a few times and she would tell me how much she felt betrayed and hurt by Evan.  Add that to Mom’s sharp denouncements and I locked my heart to him.  I remember one time seeing him at the house along the freeway and nobody was there but Andra and me.  We went up to him and Andra hugged him but I refused.  I remember the tears he shed that day.  I do not know if he understood what was in my heart and thoughts that day.  I have never been able to overcome that emotional block.  I do remember he came to visit less and less over the years.  Christmas and birthday cards were about all that remained.  He remarried about two years later to his highschool sweetheart.
Due to the nature of him leaving our lives I always called him Mr. E. E. in the present of Grandma and other family members.  Mother had other choice words.  I don’t remember Grandma being harsh on his memory, just more disappointed.
My next memory has him at my missionary farewell.  He came for all of the church service and gave me a monetary gift and said he was not staying to not cause concern with Grandma and the rest of my family.  I do not know if he stayed for the farewell or not.  I tend to think he did.  I do know he was there at my missionary homecoming two years later.  Grandma had passed away and he sat in the overflow section.  He lingered after the homecoming crowd of well wishers had dispersed and I walked him to his Buick in the north parking lot.  He had a cane at the time.  We visited for a moment and he shed some tears then.  He told me my Grandmother would be proud.  I don’t remember holding ill will, but a bit annoyed that he came to the homecoming.
Since that time we have kept in contact via mail.  We responded through letters several times a year until the past year it has increased in number.  Mostly because he collected spoons and I was a traveling maniac with Amanda.  We purchased spoons for him in nearly all the places we would go and would send them to him.  He repaid us for all of them.  I don’t know I would have done it just out of the kindness of my heart or at least so many.
Some time in 2004 Evan called me and told me he was heading to Salt Lake to a doctors appointment.  He knew I was spraying lawns for Larry and wanted to know if he swung through Cache Valley if we could do lunch.  I wasn’t particularly interested but was nice and agreed.  We ate lunch at a little Mexican Restaurant in Smithfield.  It was good food and we discussed just the lighter topics.  Nothing of too much interest other than the fact he brought me an envelope of pictures.  I had been mining him for information about Grandma and the family.  He had not been very forthcoming until this day.  I finally quit asking him about Grandma and asked him about him.  He brought photos and I took them and scanned them all for him.  He had very few pictures of him and Grandma, at least that he shared.  You will notice that I have added the Elliott Family Album to my pictures with Evan’s passing.  These are the photos that had only to do with him I kept copies of.
He did finally disclose information on how he met Grandma, some of their courtship, their leaving each other, and their activity in the church.  Some of which comments I believe I have even posted here on the blog.
In reflecting upon his death I have a variety of feelings.  I still feel a sense of betrayal and emotional blockade.  A distancing I maintain for reasons I do not understand nor would I know how to dismantle them.  There is also a pity or sadness I feel.  Evan always seemed like such a lonely soul.  I don’t believe he was depressed or anything like those types of feelings.  He was married three times I know of.  The first two ended in divorce.  The third one was his highschool sweetheart for which he had pictures of from that time.  He had no children.  Even in his death, it was a time before someone found him after his death.  In looking back I see a man longing for belonging and love and I feel some guilt for offering none more than friendship.  He loved us as his own children, he told us that many times.  I feel a sense of release in a commitment that seemed to be a burden.  I have no ill feelings for him and want to weep that I feel a release in his passing.  This doesn’t seem my nature to harbour what appears to be some malice or bondage to another.  I do not understand the array of feelings I feel with Evan’s death or in reflecting on what I know of his life.  I am not sure I will ever truly understand in this life.  I am saddened by his death though and that the relationship we have has been growing and increasing incrementally over the years since the mission.  Perhaps it is the loss of what could have been in the healing of our relationship.  That is certainly a brighter light to look at the scenario, the disappointment of my wanting to mend the broken bridges of the past.
Regardless, I have taken an inventory of my life to a degree.  Are there other people who I can do more in extending love and fellowship to?  Is this a tragedy?  Was he really lonely or my imposed desire for him to be lonely from the betrayal I felt of him in hurting Grandma?  He mentioned his fighting in Korea and how he still often thought of it.  What happened?  Does that explain some of the rest of his life?  I will not know in this life.
Who met him on the other side of the veil?  Has Grandma and him at any point met to bring any more reconciliation they did not find in mortality?  I sense tragedy in the life of Evan’s parents.  Were they present and are they all finding their ‘rest’ from mortal cares?  Tragedy seems somehow to be the word to describe Evan’s life to me.  Tragedy to me or to him?
As I survey the world around me I think how time marches on.  Each and every sand grain falls through the constricted glass.  Each is numbered and recognized in their place even though not every grain is noticed.  How much are our lives the same?  Some more recognized than others.  But each has our part, whether large or small.  “I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me.”

Out with the old liver, in with the new!

It has been an interesting day.  I was awakened last night by the ringing telephone around 12:30 AM.  It was Jan, my step-mother, informing me that my Dad and she were headed to Salt Lake City.  They had received a phone call that Dad needed to head to the hospital.  There was a liver coming to Salt Lake from Elko, Nevada.
Dad was right in his premonition that he would have a liver soon.  Many people wait years and die without ever receiving a liver transplant.  Dad had one within a few months.  I don’t remember exactly how long it has been, but I think it is less than 6 months.  Funny how things line up sometimes.
He went in for surgery about 8:30 AM this morning.  I guess the liver had to arrive and they had to inspect it to make sure it was suitable for Dad.  Can you imagine that scene?  “Hmmm, Dr. do you concur?  I do believe it is a liver.  Shall we fry some to make sure?  This thing is huge, are they sure it doesn’t belong to a horse?  Where did I put that tape measure?”
It seems a bit morbid to think that somebody was just dying to give this liver to Dad.  We don’t know what happened to the person who gave it up but one thing came out of the whole scenario, it is a big liver.  Jan commented later that they had to trim quite a bit off.  I never really considered that you could just trim it down to size.  I don’t imagine many organs you can do that.  What about a heart, it just seems it would not be the same after the trim.
The surgery was supposed to take 8 hours.  But at 5:30 Jan called me to tell me they had not put the new liver in.  What is up with that?  Talk about milking the clock.  I am sure they did not clock out for lunch and whatever else they were doing.  I hope they did not sew an onion ring up inside.
I write this at about 5 hours after when they were supposed to be done and I just received another call that they just finished hooking up all the blood vessels and such but they had yet to do the bile ducts.  The Dr. made a comment about doing a lot of trimming.
You must remember I am hearing all this information through chinese whispers.  I am sure they do not really divulge everything that has taken place.  There really must be a reason why the operation went 6 hours over (that is a 14 hour day, even if they did order in pizza and onion rings).  Perhaps it was like the gall bladder removal where the blood vessels were thick and required quite a bit of effort to keep things leaking too much.  Who knows.  Perhaps they accidentally removed the stomach and had to put it back in before actually getting to the liver.
At any rate, the doctors tell us everything has gone well.  That was at the last little break they took to come visit with Jan.  He is supposed to be unconscious the rest of the night and will spend the next few days in ICU.  We will have to see what happens.
In other news, I extracted 500 names from the indexing today.  Just wanted to make sure I am familiar with all of it if I am going to be getting others to volunteer.

Rawson Trip to DC

Amanda’s cousin, Jed Rawson, decided he wanted to stop and see Washington.  He made the arrangements to stay with Dennis and Gwen in Springfield.  We went up for Thursday.  We had a busy little day.  We visited the Capitol, Library of Congress, National Archives, Air and Space Smithsonian, Natural History Smithsonian, Washington Temple, FDR Monument, Lincoln Memorial, Jefferson Memorial, Washington Monument, and I am sure there is something I missed.  Oh we did stop at the White House too.  It was a busy day and you can see that in the photos.

In other news, Ross Andra had a pretty major heart attach at church last week in Salt Lake City.  I am not sure what doctrine they were teaching but it definitely knocked him over.
I received a phone call last weekend from Iona Mellor in Anaheim, California.  She is my cousin as a daughter of Otto Andra.  It was good to visit with her for more than an hour.  I sent off some group sheets to her so she could return them to me with some more information.  I look forward to hearing back from her.
I posted a blog earlier on the Presidential debate.  Talk about a few people nipping at me since!  Geez.  Relax a little people.
Tomorrow I spend the day working at the National Genealogical Society’s convention here in Richmond.  That should definitely be interesting.  The church made quite a few announcements for it.  They are literally about to move a mountain!  The Granite Mountain!

Jonas Family Photos

Jonas Family Photos

It has come time for the information regarding the Jonas Album.  There are a couple of generations in there, but like the Andra line, I will not include much information on the living individuals.  Only those familiar with the line will find those photos interesting or of much value.  However, you may be able to figure some of them out by their names.

Some of this information has been given in previous posts.  Particularly in relation to the Coley album and the Lost Trunk.  I do have quite a bit more information in relation to some of these families.  I have told some of the stories previously as well.  I will have to post more later.

Joseph Jonas
10 Jan 1859 – Frenchtown, Monroe, Michigan
23 Jun 1917 – Richmond, Cache, Utah

Married
Nov 1883 – Logan, Cache, Utah

Annetta Josephine Nelson
18 Nov 1864 – Logan, Cache, Utah
23 Dec 1907 – Provo, Utah, Utah

Children
Margaret Jonas
17 Jun 1884 – Logan, Cache, Utah
17 Sep 1904 – Thorpe, Kittitas, Washington
Mary Nelson Jonas
17 Jul 1885 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington
21 Sep 1899 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington
Rosa Nelson Jonas
5 Sep 1886 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington
20 Feb 1951 – Preston, Franklin, Idaho
John Nelson Jonas
14 Aug 1888 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington
19 Dec 1918 – Richmond, Cache, Utah (Influenza)
William Nelson Jonas
2 Dec 1889 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington
14 Apr 1972 – Murray, Salt Lake, Utah
Joseph Nelson Jonas
19 Nov 1893 – 19 Nov 1893 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington
6 Sep 1932 – Ogden, Weber, Utah (electrocuted)
Annetta Josephine Jonas
12 Aug 1896 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington
12 Aug 1896 – Ellensburg, Kittitas, Washington

Christian Andersen (married previously to Caroline Mathilde Halverson)
9 Oct 1873 –Christiania, Akershus, Norway
9 Aug 1957 – Ogden, Weber, Utah

Married
29 Jun 1904 – Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah

Rosa Nelson Jonas
Information listed above

Children
Rosetta Mabel Andersen (married Vordis Rio Cazier)
23 Oct 1905 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
9 Jun 1981 – Townsend, Broadwater, Montana
Christian Cyrus Andersen (married Florence Zelnora Child)
21 Dec 1907 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
7 Jul 1980 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
Annetta Cleone Andersen (married Christian S Miller)
24 Nov 1909 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
19 Jun 1981 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
Merlin Andersen (married Ruby Harris)
20 Sep 1913 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
30 Dec 1998 – Westpoint, Davis, Utah
Verla Jonas Andersen (married Howard Wayment Lythgoe)
16 Mar 1917 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
22 Jun 1999 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
Arvie Jonas Andersen (married Dorothy Dean Hobbs)
30 May 1921 – Lewiston, Cache, Utah
22 May 1990 – Ogden, Weber, Utah

John Nelson Jonas
Information listed above

Married
5 Jun 1912 – Logan, Cache, Utah

Nellie Armina Jonas
26 Jul 1889 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
11 Dec 1953 – Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah

Children
Calvin Anderson Jonas (married Viola Florance Chapman)
6 Aug 1913 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
17 Jun 1991 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
Melvin Anderson Jonas (married Doris Everts)
31 Mar 1917 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
16 Jul 1944 – San Marcos, Hays, Texas (drowned, married Doris Everts)
Armina Anderson Jonas (married Don Farnes)
5 Mar 1919 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
30 Mar 2011 – St George, Washington, Utah

William Nelson Jonas
Information listed above

Married
6 Jan 1921 – Logan, Cache, Utah

Karen Marie Thompson
31 Oct 1892 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
13 Jun 1980 – Murray, Salt Lake, Utah

Children
Delwyn Thompson Jonas (married Myrna Mae Bowman)
4 Jan 1922 – Logan, Cache, Utah
10 Dec 2003 – Murray, Salt Lake, Utah
Maynard Thompson Jonas (married Lois Rae Lemmon)
9 Apr 1923 – Thatcher, Franklin, Idaho
31 Jan 1997 – Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Gaylen Thompson Jonas
14 Mar 1925 – Logan, Cache, Utah
19 Sep 1944 – Peleliu, Palau Islands
Vaughn Thompson Jonas (married Dorothy Wiley)
7 Sep 1926 – Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
8 Aug 1991 – Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Carvel Thompson Jonas (married Beverly Clayton and Barbara Williams)
17 Sep 1934 – Sandy, Salt Lake, Utah
Still living
William Thompson Jonas
22 Oct 1937 – Murray, Salt Lake, Utah
23 Oct 1937 – Murray, Salt Lake, Utah

Joseph Nelson Jonas
Information listed above

Married
6 Sep 1916 – Logan, Cache, Utah

Lillian Coley
26 Aug 1898 – Lewiston, Cache, Utah
11 Feb 1987 – Layton, Davis, Utah

Children
Joseph Herbert Jonas (married Hilma Grace Erickson)
14 Aug 1917 – Richmond, Cache, Utah
23 Jun 1993 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
Spencer Gilbert Jonas (married Viola Amelia Cole)
10 Dec 1920 – Burley, Cassia, Idaho
26 Aug 1996 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
Irwin John Jonas (married Mary Elizabeth Popwitz)
2 Sep 1921 – Thatcher, Franklin, Idaho
11 Jul 1944 – Lowe, France
Wilburn Norwood Jonas (married Colleen Mary Andra)
15 May 1924 – Lewiston, Cache, Utah
14 Mar 1975 – Burley, Cassia, Idaho
Ellis Seth Jonas (married Geraldine Pitcher)
6 Sep 1926 – Lewiston, Cache, Utah
12 Aug 2012 – Smithfield, Cache, Utah
Evan Reed Jonas (married Lona Rae Jensen)
4 Sep 1928 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
4 Feb 1999 – Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Lillian Annetta Jonas (married Ray Laurence Talbot)
15 Jul 1930 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
20 Feb 2009 – Layton, Davis, Utah
LeReta Mary Jonas (married Lowell Hansen Andersen)
1 Aug 1932 – Ogden, Weber, Utah
Still living