Utah State University. In the fall of
1958, I again enrolled at Utah State University. To avoid being drafted into
the Army, I applied to re-enter the Air Force Reserve Officers' Training Corps.
Both the Professor of Air Science and the Commandant of Cadets were Mormons and
had an understanding of the maturity one gains from serving a mission. After
some initial resistance from AFROTC authorities, because I missed the second
year of instruction being at Ricks College, I was allowed to join the program
on probation. As I was now a junior in college, I enrolled as a third year
cadet but had to take some second year courses, and I did not collect the usual
small amount of money to which third year cadets were entitled.
Although I had
no specific goals, the thirty-month experience in Denmark had added
considerable maturity and significantly enhanced my confidence in my ability to
excel. Therefore, I determined that I would become involved in all facets of
university life and make the very most of the experience. I lived in the Delta
Phi House with other returned missionaries and turned to the business of school
and social life.
Having developed
an interest for languages with Danish, I enrolled in a German class and found I
had a remarkable talent for learning languages. No longer interested in playing
football or even in being a coach, I followed the advice of the head of the
language department and became a language major. With German as my major, I
needed a minor and settled on Russian. This forced me to start learning Russian
as a second quarter student without the benefit of the introductory
instruction. I suspect this is one of the reasons why I never fully mastered
the Russian language.
I was active in
church activities and served most of my junior year in college as president of
the Ward's Young Men's organization–at the time called YMMIA. This afforded me
the opportunity to grow both spiritually and socially, while also causing me to
to hone my administrative skills.
In all, I was in
a position to meet and date a good share of the eligible young ladies on the
campus. Having figured out that I was not going to marry the girl from Denmark,
I was on the lookout for the right one.
Faith.
In the spring of 1959, I saw a lovely young girl in the university field house
during an assembly practice. I was frankly a bit surprised to find such a
pretty girl who had escaped my attention. I immediately set out to learn her
name and other relevant facts. Her name was Faith Dye, but I was told not to bother because she
was waiting for a hometown fellow who was on a mission. I could only respect
that and therefore did not pursue my interest until I perceived sufficient
encouragement for me to do so. It took only a very short time before I decided
she should have all my attention. She responded positively and we began to see
each other at every opportunity. By the time school was over in the spring, we
had decided to get married. By mid-summer we were engaged and on September 14, President
Raymond married us in the Logan LDS Temple over which he presided. I frequently
tease her with the accusation that she proposed. Actually, it was me. But at
one point in our courtship she did suggest rather straightforwardly that we
become “pinned” or engaged to be engaged. I admit, however, that her memory
differs from mine on this point.
Faith was just nineteen with only one year of
college. Perhaps love itself does not require an explanation, but for the
benefit of my descendants who may read this after I'm long gone, I'd like to
attempt some clarification. When I first saw Faith, it was her obvious beauty
that provided the attraction. She was neither large nor small, about five feet
four inches tall weighing about 115 pounds, which were well distributed in all
the right places. As we grew to know each other, I perceived an inner beauty
and purity that transcended her physical beauty. Yet, she was often insecure
and unsure of herself. This awakened my protective instincts and caused me to
want to take care of her. Obviously, I had grown up with various mental images
about what I wanted and expected in a wife and Faith appeared to be all those things. She was very
faithful in the church and she was a farm girl, having grown up in Neola (near
Roosevelt) in Utah. These things were part of the attraction.
When she first
took me out to meet her parents, she was extremely nervous. Their house was
less than modest, and Faith's relationship with her
father and mother was more complex than I then realized. Two events from that
visit deserve recording as they demonstrate Faith's closeness to the farm
environment. First, not long after we arrived, her younger sister, Kay, told Faith she could not ride her horse. Before the words
were out of Kay's mouth, Faith was outside, on the horse, and galloping down
the road at full speed. In the other noteworthy event, she and I somehow agreed
to a cow-milking contest. She won. I always argued it was because they were her
cows and unused to the feel of a masculine grip; the truth is that she was better.
In addition to
my feelings for Faith, I was confident she would
present me with the strong healthy children I desired. These may seem like
rather trivial reasons for getting married, especially to someone who is
romantically inclined, but the feelings I felt for her when she was nineteen
now stand in the shadow of time and have been strengthened by the years of
sharing, overcoming difficulties, and being parents to our seven children.

No comments:
Post a Comment