The DeHavilland Dove Connections




Photo of a DeHavilland Dove aircraft, with Captain Allan R Wegener, shaking hands with Captain Charles Nelson Hill, Chief Pilot for MacRobertson Miller Airlines (MMA) of Perth, Western Australia, taken in Calcutta, India, in 1953. Also in the photo are Frank Doggett, Chief Engineer for MMA and the un-named Senior Engineer for Airways India Limited.
 

There is a great story attached to this photo. 

Captain Allan R. Wegener was my dad.  He joined the RAAF before I was born...came home from WWII when I was five (5)... and left again when I was six (6).  He left Perth on 12 November, 1947, headed for Sweden where he intended to purchase a Junkers 52 (German war transport) and fly it back to Perth. According to the newspaper report of his departure, he hoped to contract to fly beef from cattle stations in north-west WA to freezers at ports.

Dad hopped from island to island, all the way to India.  Unfortunately he did not make it beyond India. He was forced down by bad weather and lack of fuel in East Pakistan.  The aircraft was totaled, but dad and his chief engineer survived the crash. He spent the next seven (7) years as a pilot in India..  He spent 1953 and 1954 as the private pilot for the Maharaja of Jodhpur...which he described in his memoirs as the best two years of his life. His memoirs actually read like an Indiana Jones movie script. The Maharaja had inherited about 26 aircraft after WWII and he assigned my dad the task of selling as many as possible.

Meanwhile my mother, Sylvia Elizabeth Axford Wegener, and myself were left abandoned back in Perth. Mother worked as a telephone operator (telephonist) in country towns, throughout the southwest of WA.  I lived with my grandmother Burley Conradina Louisa Wegener Dynon, in Wembley, WA.  On school holidays I would visit mother where-ever she was.  I travelled by train or plane.  When I travelled by plane it was on a DeHavilland Dove aircraft owned by MacRobertson Miller Airlines (MMA) of WA.  I loved that plane.  As a child I loved to draw aeroplanes, and the Dove was one of my favorites, because it was streamlined with in-line piston engines vs the old radials.

My mother saved all of my childish letters.  I read them all again recently, wondered who that little boy was, then melted into the memories.  The dates confirmed that my first flight to Albany, WA, in the DeHavilland Dove, was in 1953.

When I transcribed my dad's memoirs from tapes he made in the 1980s, I was amazed to find reference to him selling a DeHavilland Dove to MMA, of Perth WA.  That's all he said, but I immediately marveled about the coincidence of me flying on the very plane which my dad had flown in India and sold to MMA in Perth.  What were the odds?
. 
Earlier this year I was contacted, out of the blue, by a relative of Captain Charles Neslon Hill of Perth, WA.  The message was that Captain Hill had spent 35 years as a pilot for MMA and may have been a good friend of my father.  Captain Hill ended his career as the Chief Pilot for MMA and travelled abroad a number of times to pick up aircraft for the Airline.  As if to prove the point, it was not long before I received the amazing photo above, which was taken in Calcutta, India, in 1953, as the DeHavilland Dove was prepared for Captain Hill to make the long flight to Perth, WA.  The caption on the back of the photo identifies the people in the photo and my dad "Wag" wishes "Nelson" a happy landing.

That beautiful DeHavilland Dove above, involves some incredible human connections and brings back some bitter-sweet childhood memories.



 
 

Carbon Tax Kills … Businesses and Politicians

Politics in Australia can be confusing to outsiders.  For example, the Labor party is “liberal”, whereas the Liberal party is.”conservative”. Think about that. The Labor party came to power in 2007, with Kevin Rudd as the party leader.  In Australian politics the leader of the successful political party becomes the Prime Minister.  Party in-fighting between Rudd, a progressive liberal, and Julia Gillard, a communist (seriously), resulted in Julia Gillard taking over party leadership, in a coalition with the Green party.  In 2010 Gillard became Australia’s first woman Prime Minister.

The Labor party has promoted a radical agenda regarding man-caused global warming for years, yet they promised the public that they would not implement a Carbon Tax.  Labor’s coalition with the Green Party apparently pushed them over the edge.  Gillard’s government brazenly implemented a Carbon Tax.  The public outcry was so intense that it disrupted the Labor party leadership.  In a rush for damage control, Rudd displaced Gillard as party head and Prime Minister last June. A By-Election (Special Election) was forced upon the government.  The September 7, 2013, election was essentially a referendum on the Carbon Tax.

Kevin Rudd’s “liberal” political campaign strategy was to promise more give-away programs to an already socialized citizenry.

Tony Abbott, leader of the Liberal party, who is more of a centrist, simply promised that, if elected, he would abolish the Carbon Tax, which economists were claiming would bankrupt Australian businesses…and the country.  

The Labor party lost the election by the widest margin in 70 years.

Tony Abbott and the Liberal – National party coalition won.  Australia retuned to a conservative government.  Tony Abbott’s first words after being sworn in as Prime Minister included…"The carbon tax will be gone during our term… I say that since the carbon tax is costly and irrational, it will destroy all politicians who get involved in it.”

Observation:  Single issue politics can be powerful. Politicians BEWARE.

Australia’s CNNOpinion suggests that… “Gillard’s breach of her “no carbon tax” pledge has been a lesson to all political leaders”. 

And so it should.  But where is the US press coverage?

Nathan's Charming Child

Nathan Wegener...aka Nate...has a five (5) year old son whose name is Jacob Wegener...aka Jake...aka...Jakey.

Nate related the following classic father-son conversation with Jake.

"So Jakey...your name is Jake and your parents call you Jakey....right?
"Yeah"
"Your daddy's name is Nate....right?
"Yeah"
"So what do you think my parents called me?"
"I don't know...DORCAS?"

This perceptive child should be on somebody's "watch list" for future achievement.

Becky Wegener, the very attractive, but out-manned mother of the family, also appears to be losing the parenting game with her five (5) year old son Jacob....at some obscure intellectual level.

Becky reported the following conversation with Jacob.  Becky was in her kitchen.  Jake was playing with his toys in the living room.

"Jake, can you come here please...I need your help for a minute"

"Hello...this is Jacob Wegener.  I can't take your call right now, but if you will leave your name and number after the beep, I will get back to you...BEEEEP".

Jacob kept playing with his toys.  Becky was speechless.

Jakey seems to be able to talk and charm his way around any situation.

I'm really hoping to live long enough to witness this young man get a law degree at 16 and save the world at 21. 

Angie's Adult Child

No...this is not about Shane Falslev...this is about Jadyn Falslev...who is 6 going on 16.

Last Thursday evening, following dinner with the Falslevs, I announced that Kathie and I had to go home, because the peas were calling...they needed picking...in the cool of the evening.  Angie and Shane suggested that we take Jadyn home to help...because..."Jadyn loves to pick peas".

So that sets the scene...6 year old Jady and 72 year old Poppa Tony picking peas together in his vegetable garden...and talking...and talking...well...Jadyn doing most of the talking.  One might expect our conversation to be generationally challenged...but...not so much.  I learned that Jady loves to water the garden for her daddy...and she is even helping a neighbor by watering their garden while they are away. She had never picked so many peas before...but apparently she just enjoys being a helper. In the middle of this fascinating experience, Jayden looked up and said..

       "I must say...your corn is looking good poppa".

I'm thinking..."WHAT?...What did she just say?" ...but I recovered quickly and thanked her politely.  I then asked... "Did grandpa Ron teach you about growing corn?"  She said "who's that?"...and I realized that Jady was a 6 year old again.  "That would be your grandpa Falslev...he knows more about corn that anyone...he grows great corn...did you know that?"  Jadyn responded..."Yeah, I know.. we just eat it."

When we were done picking peas, we walked up to the house, where Jady hesitated at the door and asked... "where's the cat?".  Being old and also slow...it took a minute to understand where this conversation was going...IE.. . Jayden is afraid of our cat.  I told her that the cat likes to be with grandma, so I supposed that the cat was in grandma's bedroom.  Then I foolishly asked...

"Would you like to go see grandma?"...
"NO!"
Well...what if I put the cat outside...would that be good?"
"YES!"
A little while later Jayden moved in close and said quietly...:
"Poppa...is there anyway that the cat can get in without you knowing?
"No"
"That's GOOOOD"

It's even better being a grandpa.

Eat the Butta Mate

Glenn Beck reported this morning that a 21 pound lobster was recently caught somewhere.  It is being kept alive.  It was even given a name.  And the owners can't even think about dropping him in a pot of boiling water and eating him.  On the other hand, Glenn's side-kick Stu made a classic statement:

"I don't understand that...lobster is just a delivery vehicle for butter".

That got me thinking.  There are lots of "delivery vehicles for butter".   Snails come to mind.  Why would anyone eat snails if it were not for the fact that they come floating in butter?  My dear Kathleen likes her Shrimp Scampi floating in butter...and garlic.  And Ruths Chris Steakhouse is famous, primarily because their steaks are cooked in, what else...butter. Then of course there are crabs.  Most people love crab dipped in butter, but I'm weird; I prefer them straight...or with vinegar.

And Southern cookin' came to mind.  People in the South don't mess around.  They are serious about their butter.  They even avoid the "delivery vehicle for butter" concept completely.  They eat Fried Butter.  They dip butter balls in batter, drop them in the fryer...blow on them a couple of times... and pop them in the mouth. Oooooh!  Makes me sick just thinking about it.

The No 1 "delivery vehicle for butter" in my experience has to be bread.  Think about it.  How many people do you know who slather their bread with butter? IE...they like a little bread with their butter. On the other hand, as a child in Perth, Western Australia, I hated butter...I preferred my bread plain.  OK...I was weird.  But my Mother and my Auntie Burl tolerated that idiosyncrasy. I found out how weird I was every time we visited the Knowles family (Wegener relatives) in South Perth.  Sitting around the dinner table I got serious stares and comments..."Look...Tony eats his bread plain"..."Why don't you put BUTTA on your bread?"..."Everyone puts BUTTA on their bread"..."Just eat the bloody BUTTA mate"..."You're weird".  They could never quite understand how anyone could not like butter.

For the most part, I used to put up with the comments, but one day I had a bright idea.  When the cousins started the taunting I said, "Look...it's real simple...I'm used to plain bread...me Mum won't let me eat BUTTA at home...it's too expensive."  That was not quite the right thing to say...Mother was horrified...and it became a serious lesson in diplomacy.  Now I looooove me BUTTA...and it shows.

Global Positioning Systems

M Russell Ballard is well known for his late-in-life adoption of technology and his encouragement of the application of technology in the Church.  He made a great statement during the April 2012 Conference:

"I think I know why Lehi was greatly astonished when he first saw the Liahona, because I remember my reaction when I first saw and witnessed a GPS unit. In my mind it was a modern-day device “of curious workmanship.” Somehow, in some way I can’t even imagine, this little device, right in my phone, can pinpoint exactly where I am and tell me exactly how to get where I want to go."

Elder Ballard continued: "For both my wife, Barbara, and me, the GPS is a blessing. For Barbara it means she doesn’t have to tell me to stop and ask for directions; and for me it means I can be right when I say, “I don’t need to ask anyone. I know exactly where I’m going.”"

I decided that I need one of those things. 

Last week I asked my good friend Gerry Wallace if he had a portable GPS unit.  He said  "Oh yes...and I love it."  Then he told me about his conversation with the salesman about the various GPS models available.  Not being all that tech savvy, he listened politely without much comprehension and finally asked..."do you have the one in which a lady talks to you and tells you things like ...turn right in 2.1 miles?"  The sales clerk assured him that they had verbal command GPS units.

Gerry responded..."That's great... that's what I need.  I've always had a lady telling me where to go, so I thought that model would probably make me feel the most comfortable." 

Non-Auspicious Date

Tuesday:  April 10, 2012

I’m sitting here looking out at the Atlantic.  It’s big.  Let’s say…immense.  And it is calm today.  No wind…no whitecaps…and we are running with the small swells.  I was ready for rough weather.  During our first night the sea was rough and we rolled and bumped our way north-eastward.  The next morning the ship’s motion was smooth, but the swells were the same height.  That was strange. It was explained that the Gulf Stream was the problem; it causes all sorts of erratic currents which, when mixed with swells, cause ships to pitch and roll excessively.

The Atlantic is also lonely, even in 2012.  We saw a two-masted sailing ship on our first day out.  The Captain announced that it was a research vessel which is always on the Atlantic.  Yesterday Kathie and I saw a whale; it was jumping and slapping the water with its flukes…putting on a real show.  And last night Kathie saw a light on the horizon.  But that’s it…there is nothing out there.

 How lonely must it have been for Columbus and his crew, who were not even certain that there was an end to their voyage.  We wondered what it must have been like for the early Saints who were crowed below decks, for weeks, in all kinds of weather conditions.  And here we are on a “pleasure” cruise, on the Atlantic.

 100 years ago today the Titanic left England from Southampton; it sank four days later.  But who’s thinking about that?  It’s time to eat!

Ya Gotta Love "ZITS"

ZITS has become one of my favorite Sunday comic strips.  I love the artwork...it is brilliant...and the detail is amazing...and most often I can understand the messages.  Sometimes I can even see one of our children in Jeremy.  WHO COULD THAT BE?  Let me think.  I do accept hints.

Mormon Yankees

I Home-Teach Blaine Worthen.  He served a mission in Queensland, Australia in the mid 1950s.  Blaine played a lot of basketball on his mission; it was sanctioned by the Church as a missionary tool.  The "Mormon Yankees" basketball teams were extremely popular all over Australia.  I discovered just recently that the Church actually chose missionaries for Australia, based upon their basketball skills.  I never knew that...and apparently neither did the missionaries at the time.  But Blaine and I often reminise about our basketball days. 

Just recently a sister from Queensland came up to Logan to visit Blaine.  Violet Bailey, stayed with us for a week.  She was actually born in the Church...at 74 she is a genuine pioneer in the Australian Church.  She is in Utah for three months doing Family History research.  It turned out that Violet (Vi) remembers the Mormon Yankees well...attended games in which Blaine played...and loved to play basketball herself.  So we had a great time talking about days gone by...and basketball in Australia.

Two of my long-time Jaycee friends were missionaries in Queensland and played with the Mormon Yankees.  Lanny Gunnell passed away too young.  Lanny Nalder lives in Providence, so I took Vi over to see him.  Nalder was a star player all his life.  We had a great time talking about basketball in Australia. 

Then quite remarkably, a few days later, Blaine Worthen called to tell us to watch BYU Channel 21, because there was a special about the Mormon Yankees in Australia.  It absolutely blew me away.  I played basketball with the Mormon Yankees in Western Australia, but I had no idea of the impact which basketball had on the Church.  All I knew was that I played with missionaries who were the best players I had ever seen.  It was a privilege just to be on the same team with them.  We were never beaten.  We played the WA State team and beat them easily.  In fact, that was the first televised basketball game in Western Australia, and I scored the first two points on a layup.

The BYU program  featured Australian basketball players who uniformly agreed that the Mormons raised the level of basketball in Australia to new heights...and they uniformly expressed great respect for the missionaries as individuals and players.  The 1956 Summer Olympics were held in Melbourne and the Mormon Yankees were asked to train and help prepare the Australian Olympic team for their first Olympics.  When the international basketball teams started arriving in Australia, they were looking for teams to play practice games.  The Olympic Committee invited the Mormon Yankees to play many of the teams.  Incredibly they beat every team except the Russians and the US team who won the silver and gold medals respectively. They beat the French and Chinese teams twice.

You can imagine how proud the members of the Church were in Australia.  And the positive publicity about the Mormon Yankees opened doors all over the country for missionary work.  The missionaries conducted basketball clinics for young people, played local teams and handed out thousands of Books of Mormon.  Some of the Mormon Yankees, now old men, were interviewed on the BYU program.  They talked about experiences like people rushing the court, after an exhibition game, just to touch them; they were icons...they were as popular as the Globetrotters.

So I had no idea that the two seasons I spent with the Mormon Yankees in Perth were so unique.  I was playing basketball with the University of Western Australia when I joined the Church.  Since there were no other Universities in Western Australia, we played in the City leagues.  I started in the D league and was playing A Reserve when I joined the Church.  The year before (1960) I had travelled to the Gold Coast in Queensland (by train) with the WA University team to play in the bi-annual Inter-Varsity Competition.  I actually played against some of the Aussie blokes featured in the BYU film.  Some of you may recall me telling the story about our first game against the University of South Australia.  Our boys were all drunk from a beer drinking competition the night before.  We had to dress our best player, but he could not even stand.  That was the only basketball game I have ever heard of being lost by 100 points.  The score was 128 to 28.

A year later (June 1961) I joined the Church...a life changing event as you can imagine.  Elder Bruce R. McConkie became the Mission President a month later.  Unknown to me was the fact that missionary basketball had been curtailed by the new Mission President in Sydney.  The missionaries in Perth prevailed upon President McConkie to let them play basketball and he agreed.  But he had conditions.  One condition was that the Mormon Yankees should have two local boys on the team.  I was recruited away from the University of WA team.  My Aussie team-mates were not happy, and I sat on the bench a lot, but...and I can't emphasize this enough...it was an honor and a privilege...and an incredible education... to play on that Mormon Yankee team.

Our two real stars were Elders Schumway and Fotheringham.  I realize now that they were probably handpicked to serve as missionaries in Australia.  Physically they looked like twins...both 6' 4"...both quick as cats...and both with what looked to me like 36" vertical leaps.  I had never seen anything like those two.  They were awesome players.  I have never forgotten them.  I have often wondered where they are.

For many years I kept my Mormon Yankees jacket, # 10 shirt and shorts, but I must have reluctantly given them up during one of my infrequent clean-outs.  The only relic I retained from those days is the tongue out of one of my Converse Chuck Taylor gymn shoes, on which I had written:
"A. WEGENER, MORMONS, WA."

Check out Google and Youtube :
"Mormon Yankees: Giants on and off the Court".

Blue Suede Desert Boots

One of my elementary school friends sent me a video of a couple demonstrating Rock'n'Roll dancing...asking...do you remember when? It brought back lots of wonderful memories. 

When I was 16, Rock'n'Roll was all the rage...and I was a dancin' fool. I loved it. It was called "Jitterbug" in the US...but we called it "Jive"...and it was wild. Back in my dancin’ days I wore tight jeans and had a pair of blue suede desert boots. I'm not sure why they were called "desert boots", but I was cool…and I used to go dancin’ every weekend at the Floreat Park Tennis Club…and occasionally at the "Snakepit", which was an open-air dance floor at Scarborough Beach. When Andy and I were last in Perth I showed him a plaque in the sidewalk, which commemorated where the infamous "Snakepit" used to be located.

A couple of weeks back I was in the Sportsman shopping for sox.. There was a display of men’s shoes. Right there in front of me was a pair of blue suede desert boots…exact replicas of my 1956 models.

As I stood there staring, a young salesman came up and said “May I help you sir?” I did not respond. He said again “Sir…may I help you”. I came back to reality and said. “I’m not sure…at this very moment I am in Australia…it’s 1956…and I am dancin’ in my blue suede desert boots.” Of course he gave me that strange look that hip young men give not so hip old men. I tried to explain:

“Do you know how special these shoes are?”…
”No”
”Have you ever heard Elvis Presley sing about his Blue Suede Shoes?”…
”No”
“Well son…you missed out...you’ve got a lot of livin' to do”.

I should have bought those shoes…but on the other hand I don’t have any skinny jeans…and I really don’t like blue suede shoes that much any more. But I did love dancin'...and Jivin'.

The Australian Christmas Tree

We had a great pre-Christmas Sacrament meeting today.  The main speaker was Elder Cherrington.  He talked about Christmas in Japan with his family where, because of his lack of understanding about international power incompatabilities, their US bought Christmas lights burned out in minutes.  So they celebrated Christmas without Christmas lights.  But it was OK.  The Spirit of Christmas was with them; they celebrated the Birth of Christ with their family.  Lack of lights did not dim their special Christmas.

This past week I was asked to talk about “Christmas in Australia”, to Mrs Theobald’s 2^nd Grade class in Nibley.  She wanted the children to learn about different Christmas traditions around the world.  I enjoyed reminiscing about Christmases past in Australia.  The big difference about Christmas in Australia of course, is that it is summer in Australia right now, and all the children are on their summer break from school.  And because it is summer, it is hot, sometimes really hot.  I remember having Christmas one year on the Conning farm, in Katanning, WA, when it was 112 degrees.  And because it is hot, the beach plays a huge role in Australian Christmases.  People have Christmas dinner, then go to the beach.  Or they might have a barbie on the beach.

I did a little on-line research and noticed that the OZ culture has changed in the past 46 years.  For example, when I was a child “Santa Claus” was pretty much an unknown entity…”Father Christmas” was our main man.  He is the same jolly old fellow as we know and love in the USA, but there are still differences.  In Australia Santa now uses “boomers” (big kangaroos) to pull his sleigh, and sometimes he doesn’t even use a sleigh…he arrives by boat…on the beach.

There were no traditional live Christmas trees available when I was a child…and no artificial trees, so we got creative.  The Knowles family always decorated a banksia tree, which I loved.  That was a real  Christmas tree to me.  One of my fondest memories was a Chrsitmas tree which I made; it was a dead branch which I painted white, then decorated with tinsel and paper decorations .  I loved that “tree”.

So as I searched on-line for photos of Christmas in Australia, I found one which really touched my heart.  It is wonderful; a little girl, on the beach, admiring her Christmas tree, which is made of dead sticks, decorated with a single ribbon…and a STAR.  That simple star tells a powerful story…of Joseph and Mary, Wise-Men from afar, Shepherds in their fields by night, Choirs of Angels…and the baby Jesus, born in a manger…yet King of Kings.

13 Hours in the Seattle Airport

Last Thursday I flew from Sidney, Vancouver Island, to Seattle, intending to catch the 7:20 AM flight to Salt Lake City.  I was travelling Standby.  The flight was overbooked.  So was every flight thereafter.  I made it out on the 8:00 PM flight.  I cannot recommend 13 hours in any airport to anyone, however, as I thought about that experience the next day, I realized that it was a very special day...because of the people I met.

The first was a young, black, Muslim woman, wearing a head scarf, whom I discovered later in the day was also travelling standby.  I think that she was straight out of Africa, because her English was halting... and I don't think that she had ever encountered an escalator.  It was on the the escalator that I first met her.  She was frantic and she could not control her bags.  I helped her gather her things, but she was on the verge of tears.  She had no idea how to find her departure gate.  When I told her about the train system she was obviously horrified.  So I took her for a train ride and delivered her to her gate.  The Seattle Airport is huge, but I ran into this woman again...twice...which I thought was strange.  She had missed her first flight and was looking for another gate.  She was obviously too timid and stressed to ask for help.  Since I was all over the airport waiting at various gates, I was surprised to find her sitting at another gate while that flight was boarding.  I asked if she was OK.  She was not.  It was then that I checked her ticket and discovered that she was on standby.  But she was not aware that she needed to check to see if she was on the standby list.  The last I saw her she was sitting close to the gate counter under the watchful eye of a helpful agent...but she was clutching her bag tightly and still had that wide-eyed look of desperation. 

An old man caught my attention about noon.  He must have been in his nineties.  He could hardly walk.  I did not realize that he was also flying standby until later... and he was alone.  He had missed a couple of flights when I next saw him.  His name was Antonio Gomez.  He was not paying attention to the boarding process.  When the gate agent called for Antonio Gomez...he was nowhere to be found.  I told the agent that I would find him and bring him back.  I did...and the agent was grateful...but not grateful enough to find me a seat.

Then I met Mr. Huang.  This was a remarkable experience...like none I have ever had before.  We were in the Delta Service line.  He was talking on a cell phone in Mandarin.  When he closed his conversation, I thought I heard him say "Aloha".  So I said..."Excuse me...did you just say Aloha?".  He laughed and said "Oh no."  I told him that that my son-in-law could speak Mandarin fluently.  He asked how that could be possible.  I responded that Shane had lived in Taiwan for two years.  He said..."Two years is not enough to become fluent"...I said... "He was immersed in the culture." to which he responded "Why?".  That of course led to an explanation of the Mormon Missionary Program...and he began asking questions...question after question. 

We were in line for about 45 minutes and when my new friend was done, I was surprised that he waited for me.  I apologized a couple of times for possibly boring him...but he insisted that I was not.  He then asked if we could sit and talk a little more.  An hour later we were still talking.  We covered Missionaries and the cultural blessings of young men and women living in foreign lands, learning languages and loving the people. We discussed the history of the Church...polygamy...Warren Jeffs.  We talked about the organization of the Church... Wards and Stakes... the Welfare Program... International Relief efforts...and FAMILY.  He was really interested in everything about the Mormon view of Family.  He asked why Mormons had large families...why young people were encouraged to marry young...but he began to answer his own questions eventually.  It occurred to me later that we were really discussing "The Fruits of the Gospel".  He even suggested that the USA would be a much better place if all lived the Mormon lifestyle.  I have had people ask questions before, but never like this man.

I then noticed that I had overlooked the time and had to run.  My new friend gave me his card and I gave him my email addresss.  He was a PhD chemist and biologist, on his way to a conference in China.  (I hesitate to identify him further in this open blog.  I checked him out on the internet...he is a very distinguished scholar...wow!) He then did something remarkable.  He said that he travelled a lot and suggested that if he came through Utah sometime in the future...maybe we could get together.  I told him that my wife and I would be delighted to drive down from Logan to meet him.  He said "No...I mean...may I come to Logan and visit you in your home...and meet your family?"  I was a little stunned, but agreed.  Then, as we parted, he made a classic statement, which tended to explain what was going on between us.

"15 years ago...two Mormon boys knock on my door...I invite them in...we talk...I never forget."

Young men and women who are contemplating missions need to learn from this man's experience.  They do not yet understand the power which they will have as missionaries... Power to change lives forever ...or to leave lasting impressions.  If young people will be Obedient to the Prophet's call to serve; if they will be Obedient to their Mission Presidents, if they will seek the Spirit of the Lord; if they will Prepare and remain Pure...they will have POWER beyond their comprehension.

Tough Little Tomatoes

I must confess to having a few hangups...or...compulsions.  I do love my vegetable garden and it gives me great pleasure to tend it, watch it develop...and win the battle of the weeds.  This year I bought and planted 36 tomato plants.  Most are doing well...healthy and strong...producung green tomatoes at present.  You might think that 36 tomato plants would be enough to feed the neighborhood...and you would be correct...but I have a certain compulsion. 

Every summer a number of tomato seeds from previous years actually germinate and grow.  A few always survive the tilling process and apparently get just enough water to thrive.  It is really a small miracle.  Each little "volunteer" tomato plant competes with whatever is in its space...and almost shouts to the world..."look at me".  Of course I have no idea what sort of tomatoes they might produce, or even if they will produce before the winter chill hits them, but somehow I feel great affection for each survivor.  So each year I carefully transplant them into locations where they will receive regular TLC.  I notice that they always survive the transplanting process...they immediately droop, but they bounce back over night...they are tough...they are survivors.  This year there are 22 survivors. 

Each of them deserves a chance at life...I can give it to them...so I do.  I know...it's a little weird....but there are life lessons to be learned from nature...and tough little "volunteer" tomato plants...like... Never Give Up...and... Always Trust the Master Gardner.

Red Hearts - Random Thoughts

Each year at our Reunion at Bear Lake, either Kathie or I make a presentation about one or more of our ancestors. It was Kathie's turn this year. She chose to present her G G Grandparents, Jeremiah Robey Jr. and his wife Ruth Tucker...plus her very colorful G Grandfather Nathan Chatmond Springer. In support of Kathie's preparation I made a large Pedigree Chart of Kathie's ancestors. She has a most interesting ancestry, which deserves recognition since Pionner Day is coming up this month:

All 8 of Kathie's G Grandparents crossed the Great Plains to Utah. One was even born on the trek in Iowa. Two were not LDS when they made the trek across the USA. One was a teamster (wagon driver) in a wagon train passing through Utah. He dropped off in Utah, married a Mormon girl and became a Mormon.  One was in the US Cavalry and came to Utah with Johnson's Army on a mission to destroy the Mormons. He deserted, married a Mormon girl, became a Mormon and was never found by the US Government. Note that Mormon girls are the common denominator here.

Working with New Family Search I identified which of Kathie's ancestors were the first to join the LDS Church in each family line. Some were of the 4th generation and some the 5th. We identified each of these with a RED HEART to honor their faith, courage and lifetime of commitment.

Since June was the 50th anniversiary of the baptism of my late mother Sylvia and myself into the LDS Church in Australia, this was an opportunity to express appreciation for that life-changing event. I bore my testimony of the Father and the Son, Joseph Smith, the Book of Mormon and the truthfullness of the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. I told my children and grandchildren that I had learned a lot in my 70 years, but I also told them I had not learned anything with more certainty...than...this Church is TRUE.

President Gordon B Hinckley once presented a wonderful line, which I like to borrow. "Every good thing which has come into my life, including my marriage to my sweetheart, I owe to my membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints". To that I can only say AMEN!"

So I was pondering all the wonderful people who have influenced me for good along the way...and I was listing in my mind all of the positions which I have had over the past 50 years. Then I had a couple of those sometimes useful Random Thoughts.

1. I thought of "Fidler on the Roof". Tevia asks his wife "Do you love me?" To which she replies with a litany of services which she has provided throughout their married life...and suggests "if this is not love then I don't know what is. But Tevia persists..."But...Do you love me?" She finally relents with... "I guess I love you". That made me think that 50 years of Service to the Lord may be impressive...but the Savior might reasonably say..."That's nice Tony...but do you love me?"   Just as Tevia simply needed to hear the words, so we might conclude that it is important to let our Father and His Son know that we love them...verbally.

2. I also thought of Jeffer's comments as a six year old, which I blogged about earlier. We had a disagreement at the dinner table...he worked himself up into an emotional state, threw up and ran to his room. After a cooling-off period I went to Jeff's room and had a chat. He said some remarkable things for a six year old..."How come you are so mean to me?...How come you won't let me be mine own self?" Then he told me that he did not feel loved...which was amazing...since he was the youngest of seven, and adored by his siblings. So we talked about that for a while. I assured Jeff that he was loved very much. During the conversation I suggested that it was certainly important for him to feel loved, but I also asked if he ever thought that his parents might need to feel loved also. His response was a remarkably honest ..."Well I do love you...but it wears off."

Of course that wisdom from a six year old underscores that we are all human...and suggests that we need to contemplate our love for our Father in Heaven and His Son Jesus Christ...And we need to express it often...because...unless we are careful...it can wear off.

“Jodhpur Flying Club” – The Rest of the Story

How weird is this? Last Tuesday, June 27, 2011, I opened my blog, intending to review blogs by family members, and just by chance noticed a new comment to one of my old blogs.

"Dear Tony, May I have your e-mail address? I need to communicate with you for a story for my magazine, India Today. My e-mail is: pariharrohit@gmail.com
Rohit Parihar/India Today/Jaipur.
June 27, 2011 3:54 AM

What is strange is that the blog was only posted last Tuesday...and I found it, quite accidentally, the same day. I immediately thought Rohit must have been one of Jeff's Indian friends from Pittsburgh, but not so; he was an assistant editor of an Indian magazine writing an article about the accidental death of Maharaja Hanwant Singh on January 26, 1952, in Jodhpur...and he was desperately searching for a book titled "History of the Jodhpur Flying Club".

While Andy and I were in Jodhpur last year, we purchased "History of the Johdpur Flying Club". Because Andy was a pilot I thought he might find it interesting reading. It turned out to be a gold mine of information...and I wrote a blog about the book upon our return. It essentially explained how my father, Allan R. Wegener, came to be private pilot to the Jodhpur Royal Family. The accidental death of 28 year old Maharaja Hanwant Singh, broke the heart of Geoff Godwin, who had been the private pilot/instructor to the Jodhpur Royal Family, for 20 years. He taught the young Maharaja to fly. Geoff retuned to England in November 1952. The death of the Maharaja also led to Hanwant's younger brother Himmat Singhji being installed as the Regent, or interim Maharaja of Johpur. And it was His Highness Himmat Singhji, who hired my father as private pilot to the Royal Family, replacing Geoff Godwin, in April 1953.

So the book was special to Andy and me. It was authored by Peter Vacher and Robert Godwin, grandson of Geoff Godwin. In my blog about the book I noted that Andy and I wanted to make contact with Robert Godwin. Our efforts to find Robert failed.

But to add to the weirdness, it occurred to me tonight that I ought to check my blog to see if there might be other comments which I had missed. I found the following...dated June 25 2011...which was just last Saturday:

"Hi Tony, Nice to see that you picked up on the Jodhpur book. My grandfather was Geoff Godwin. Sounds like our families had a lot in common! Cheers, Robert Godwin."

I was stunned...I don't believe in coincidences, but this is really weird. And I was disappointed. Robert did not leave an email address. So if you are out there Robert...and I know that you are...send me an email mate at tonyw@designwestarchitects.com

Power Naps Don't Fix Stupid

President Kimball had a special talent. He could take a 30 minute power nap at any time and be completely refreshed. For a busy man that can be a blessing. For a stupid man, it can be...well you decide.

Kathie has always been equally impressed and annoyed that I can fall sleep anywhere, at any time, in an instant. During the years that I was travelling to Salt Lake City regularly on business, I discovered that I had President Kimball's gift. It was great. If I felt drowsy while driving, I could pull off the road into a service station, lay the seat back, check my watch and mentally plan a 30 minute nap. Almost invariably I would wake in 30 minutes and be on my way...no worries.

Recently I was working in the yard, felt tired and told Kathie I was going to take a 30 minute nap in the basement. I checked my watch, lay my head on the cushion and was gone. Then the doorbell rang. Kathie answered it. I looked at my watch and was amazed that I had been asleep for an hour. So I went back to yard work.

Later that evening I said: "I don't understand it...I slept for an hour this afternoon and I feel tired." Kathie laughed out loud. "I wondered what was going on when I heard the lawn mower start up. You are a victim of your own annoying talent. You didn't sleep for an hour. It could not have been more than two minutes. You apparently did your instant sleep trick...then the doorbell rang. You only thought you had been asleep for an hour. When you looked at your watch the hands had hardly moved."

So the lesson is this...if you are stupid like me...Power Naps don't fix Stupid.

More Random Thoughts

Thanks to Missy for getting me back on line. Ya'll might be sorry.

Where were we...Oh yes...we were talking about underwear...specifically OZ singlets.

I had more ramdom thoughts this morning as I was getting dressed for work. It must be an age thing. It may surprise some of you to learn that Kathie and I have not always seen eye to eye on every detail related to family life. One of the things that husbands only learn through sad experience is that wives can live with irritations for a long time...but the frustration will eventually bubble up...and boil over. And then it often comes as a blind-side hit, as an emphasis to a completely unrelated issue...like it has been reserved for that perfect moment.

One issue that came out of the blue for me, was Kathie's revelation that she had been irritated for years that I did not turn my underwear right-side-out before throwing them into the dirty clothes hamper. (I thought I was doing well to actually get the underwear off the floor and into the hamper.) Kathie had faithfully washed my underwear, turned them right-side-out, folded them, and put them in the drawer, for years. One day she did not put the underwear away. It was stacked on the bed. I'm not brightest light on the tree (a reference in deference to Christmas)...but I did think that there might be a message lurking there. Was she upset about something? Well...yes...apparently she was, but it had nothing to do with underwear. She just used the underwear as an exclamation point to the fact that, in addition to the more serious issue, I was generally oblivious and unappreciative. She made it a point to explain how irritated it made her that she had to turn my underwear right-side-out.

I was stunned. I have to plead guilty about the oblivious part, but I was stunned mainly because it would not have hurt my feelings in the least to have my underwear delivered wrong-side-out. That was never an expectation. So I suggested that I would be happy as a clam if Kathie would simply deliver the underwear to me wrong-side-out. And I would be perfectly happy to turn the underwear right-side-out each morning as I put it on. Who knew!

Problem solved. Sometimes we hold on to, and even entertain, irritations way too long. But it was a joint learning experience...Kathie's happy...I'm not quite so oblivious...I think about my wrong-side-out underwear every morning while dressing.

It makes me smile.

WHY? Sometimes it's best not to ask.

Kathie has a 1964 photo of me posted on a cabinet in our kitchen. It has been there for months and this morning I wondered...WHY? It occurred to me that she keeps it there to remind her of what her husband used to look like in his prime...as opposed to what she is now living with.

The photo was taken when I was serving as a Building Missionary, in Sydney. I was wearing a white shirt and a narrow, black "string" tie, in the style of the Beatles. If one looks closely you can see my underwear through the shirt. I was wearing a white "singlet"...which in today's parlance would be called a "wife-beater-shirt".

As I looked at the photo I had one of those strange experiences which are hard to explain. I had worn "singlets" all my life up to that point. I had never asked ...WHY? It was just the culture...everyone did it. I had never given a thought as to the functionality...the usefulness of a singlet. I mean...a T-shirt actually does something useful; it covers the male upper body, absorbs perspiration and helps keep a shirt at least looking fresh. A singlet, on the other hand, is pretty much useless; it does not even cover the underarms and does nothing for underarm perspiration stains. A singlet fails to cover either chest hair, back hair or underarm hair. The only useful function that comes to mind is that the singlet covers useless male nipples. But I suppose it was cool...as opposed to hot, under the Australian sun. And to a lot of Australian men it was probably "cool" in the macho sense.

I recall that Australia hotels would often have to post Rules for Customers such as ..."No Shirt No Shoes No Services"...but often the more practical hoteliers would reduce that to ..."No Singlet No Service"...shoes were optional.

Don't worry about me too much. When you get old, strange things happen. You return to your childhood and start wondering WHY again. You even start questioning underwear. Well...let's not go there Tony.

The Mohawk Immersion Program

Kathie and I just spent four days with Jeff, Kimi and Trey, plus Shane, Angie and Lydia in Washington DC. We enjoyed each other, visited museums and saw the sights. Knowing that we would be expected to do a lot of walking, Kathie and I engaged in serious preparation...well...we went out walking twice before we left. It was a good try...just too little too late...after three days we were exhausted. On our last full day, I actually declined the walking tour of monuments, in favour of spending a day alone in the American Indian Museum. The exhibits covered North, Central and South American Indian populations. It was a marvelous experience...but even with all that time, I did not get through all the exhibits.

There are many disturbing historical facts related to the clash of European and Indian cultures, but one of the most disturbing has been the systematic efforts of majority European cultures to force assimilation and loss of culture upon minority indigenous peoples. And this is not just an American issue...it has been a world wide problem.

When Kathie and I met in Sydney, we had many Maori friends from New Zealand. One was Richard Stewart. We were surprised to learn that he knew absolutely nothing about his culture, because he had been forbidden to speak his native language or learn his culture by the school system. He actually had to attend BYU Hawaii to learn his culture at the Polynesian Cultural Center. Even worse, Australian aboriginal children were forcibly removed from their families in an effort to assimilate them more quickly into white society. The plan was a miserable failure. Likewise many American Indian children suffered similar fates. Kathie and I discovered during a visit to Louisiana, that even Cajun children were forbidden from speaking Cajun French for a period of about 30 years. That also failed...but every such attempt damaged a couple of generations of children.

I was really impressed with the Mohawk Indian exhibit, because it dealt with the loss of culture head on. Mohawk men are well known as high-rise steel workers on the east coast and along with traditional biases against Indian culture by schools, these people faced loss of culture due to dispersal of families across the country. Today the Mohawk Nation has embarked on what they call the Mohawk Immersion Program...which is an educational program for children and adults. Today their children are immersed in Mohawk culture in parallel with their US/Canadian culture, from an early age...and all adults have the opportunity to take classes in their language and culture. I thought it was an inspiring story which had application to our own contemporary cultural problems.

For example, when we look at the ills in our US society, we can see that there has been a serious effort by progressives in this country to eliminate God and prayer from schools. And the Constitution has not been taught in law schools for decades and very few children in the last two generations have been taught the importance of the Constitution or reverence for the founding fathers in schools. I heard Glenn Beck say that we need to start teaching religion, morality, the Constitution and the history of the founding fathers again, if we are ever to reclaim this country from the progressives.

So maybe we can learn something from the Mohawk Indian Nation. We need to encourage local school districts to establish Constitution Immersion Programs and seriously teach the Constitution and the history of the Founding Fathers to young and old alike. We need to build pride in our cultural history across this great country.

"The Jodhpur Flying Club" by Peter Vacher

Andy and I purchased this book in Jodhpur. It is an amazing documentary of the history of aviation in Jodhpur. It expains why my father was employed as private pilot to the Maharaja of Jodhpur.

In 1931, the then Maharaja, Umaid Singh, the one who built the pink palace, decided to start a flying club in Jodhpur. He hired Geoff Godwin, an Englishman as his flight instructor. Geoff moved out to India, stayed for 20 years and trained 40 members of the royal family and countless others as pilots.

Jodhpur actually played an important role in international aviation. It was a stop-off point in some of the early air-races between Europe and Australia…and during WWII Maharaja Umaid Singh turned his airport over to the RAF and US Air Force. It was from Jodhpur that pilots flew a very risky route “Over the Hump” to supply Allied troops in China and Burma. There were 1,200 men servicing aircraft in Jodhpur during the war. Geoff Godwin played an important role during this period.

After WWII the Jodhpur Flying Club was reactivated, under Geoff Godwin’s management, but it now had dozens of surplus planes to choose from. In 1947 Maharaja Umaid Singh died of appendicitis while out hunting. His son Hanwant Singh became the Maharajah. These were days when some of the royals delighted in “having fun” in aircraft, rather than playing it by the book. Peter Vacher reports that on the day that Hanwant Singh learned that he had won a landslide victory in the national elections, he jumped into his Beechcraft with a friend and took off. Geoff Godwin unsuccessfully tried to dissuade him. The intimation is that Geoff must have thought the Maharaja unfit to fly. Unfortunately the young Maharaja died along with his friend. They were apparently buzzing some animals and hit power cables.

Geoff Godwin was so distraught...and felt so responsible for the death of his young student Maharajah Hanwant Singh, that he left India and returned to England. Hanwant’s next brother, Himmat Singh became the Regent…the acting Maharaja until Hanwant’s three year old son Gaj (the current Maharaja) came of age. Himmat was an accomplished pilot, as were many family members, but their mother, the widow of Umaid Singh, apparently wielded great power, and refused to allow any of her children to fly alone.

Geoff Godwin and my father never met, but they were inextricably connected to the royal family and aviation in Jodhpur. The royal family of Jodhpur needed a private pilot. My father was chosen. He was expected to follow Geoff Godwin’s incredible legacy. That also explains why there were so many aircraft in hangers at the Jodhpur Airport when dad took over. Peter Vacher’s book actually lists 26 aircraft that were left behind when Geoff Godwin left Jodhpur.

The co-author of the book with Peter Vacher was Robert Godwin, grandson of Geoff Godwin. Andy and I will try to make contact with them.