(Yes, there are footnotes to include historical information or comments. Hopefully without interupting the "flow" of my thoughts.)
My mother1 came from a pioneer heritage on both sides of her family. Her parents were grandchildren of pioneers and yes, grandchildren of polygamists. All of their family lines had either joined the church before the immigration to Utah or shortly afterwards2. There were pioneers still alive during my mother's childhood, some of them in her own family. Pioneer Day Celebrations were both bigger and less polished in her childhood. Every town had their own parade. "Floats" were made by wards, families and primary children. Town bands would play. And at the end of the parade would march all of the pioneers still living.
In my own childhood I remember being in Pioneer Parades when my family lived in Utah, huge big parades. One time the neighbors made covered wagons out of cardboard boxes that we children marched in for the parade. Often my mother or one of us girls would wear the pioneer dress my mother owned. Pioneers seemed very near to us. Almost all members of the church, especially in Utah had pioneer ancestors. Outside of Utah families with pioneer ancestry were kind of the "elite" of the church. Not that they were better than others, but they were honored and even deferred to because of their heritage. Most were humble, good members who didn't take advantage of their heritage, but of course there were a few who did.
Anyway, what I am trying to describe is what a big deal it was to have pioneer heritage.
I think I was around 7 or 83 when I became aware that my father felt left out of the pioneer celebrations. He was the first and at the time, only member of the church in his family4. As I grew I became aware of other members of the church who felt this way.
My mother, being a wise woman, taught us that us that my father was a pioneer, too.
My father5 was (I think) the last of 6 children. His parents divorced (which must have been quite a stigma in those days) when he was fairly young. He lived with his mother6 and grandmother who may have been a Seventh Day Adventist and for sure was most decidedly anti-Mormon. Her family came from Missouri where Mormon settlers "stole" their land. She had very bitter feelings. When George was 11 his mother died. I believe he lived with his grandmother for a while and then went to live with his dad7. Grandpa Cornish was a hard worker who traveled to where ever the jobs were. I know at least once he worked in a mine in Colorado8. I know that daddy and his father were very poor during this time. It was the great depression after all. Once they lived on 1 potato a day for most of a winter. At several different places they built small shacks to live in. These were built out of whatever building materials they could scavenge from deserted buildings or discarded remnants. I believe they stayed in Colorado throughout this time.
My father worked most of this time as well. From the time he was 14 he supported himself. Part of this was because he wanted to graduate from high school and his father moved too often for him to do that. So daddy found a job in Monte Vista Colorado and stayed there until after he graduated. I believe his father was with him some of the time and at least helped him build a place to live. I think he worked on a farm or ranch. I know he rode horses. At some point he worked for mother's Uncle Lou (her favorite Uncle). Here daddy was introduced to the church. He was baptized when he was 19. It was winter at the time and they had to break the ice on the Colorado river to perform the baptism. I don't know how John Cornish felt about his son's baptism or if he was even consulted. Of course, it was through Uncle Lou that Mother and Daddy met.
Obviously, my father was a pioneer in his own way. He had no family support when he joined the church. He didn't "cross the plains," but he certainly was still helping to settle "the west."
When the new primary song book came out around 1988 it included a song that really spoke to me.
--To Be A Pioneer--
You don't have to push a handcart
Or leave your family dear
Or walk a thousand miles or more
To be a pioneer
You do have to have great courage
And faith to conquer fear
And fight with might for a cause that's right
To be a pioneer.
Really it was around this time, as the church began to actively change to a worldwide church and not a Utah church, and that the church leaders began to talk about the pioneering efforts of new church members. There are many types of pioneer. This primary song seemed to put these thoughts into words. It particularly touches my heart because of my father.
So when we celebrate pioneer day I often feel bad when we only focus on those who crossed the plains or helped settle Utah. If I were in charge of a pioneer celebration I would talk about Sarah Miranda Thompson.
In my own childhood I remember being in Pioneer Parades when my family lived in Utah, huge big parades. One time the neighbors made covered wagons out of cardboard boxes that we children marched in for the parade. Often my mother or one of us girls would wear the pioneer dress my mother owned. Pioneers seemed very near to us. Almost all members of the church, especially in Utah had pioneer ancestors. Outside of Utah families with pioneer ancestry were kind of the "elite" of the church. Not that they were better than others, but they were honored and even deferred to because of their heritage. Most were humble, good members who didn't take advantage of their heritage, but of course there were a few who did.
Anyway, what I am trying to describe is what a big deal it was to have pioneer heritage.
I think I was around 7 or 83 when I became aware that my father felt left out of the pioneer celebrations. He was the first and at the time, only member of the church in his family4. As I grew I became aware of other members of the church who felt this way.
My mother, being a wise woman, taught us that us that my father was a pioneer, too.
My father5 was (I think) the last of 6 children. His parents divorced (which must have been quite a stigma in those days) when he was fairly young. He lived with his mother6 and grandmother who may have been a Seventh Day Adventist and for sure was most decidedly anti-Mormon. Her family came from Missouri where Mormon settlers "stole" their land. She had very bitter feelings. When George was 11 his mother died. I believe he lived with his grandmother for a while and then went to live with his dad7. Grandpa Cornish was a hard worker who traveled to where ever the jobs were. I know at least once he worked in a mine in Colorado8. I know that daddy and his father were very poor during this time. It was the great depression after all. Once they lived on 1 potato a day for most of a winter. At several different places they built small shacks to live in. These were built out of whatever building materials they could scavenge from deserted buildings or discarded remnants. I believe they stayed in Colorado throughout this time.
My father worked most of this time as well. From the time he was 14 he supported himself. Part of this was because he wanted to graduate from high school and his father moved too often for him to do that. So daddy found a job in Monte Vista Colorado and stayed there until after he graduated. I believe his father was with him some of the time and at least helped him build a place to live. I think he worked on a farm or ranch. I know he rode horses. At some point he worked for mother's Uncle Lou (her favorite Uncle). Here daddy was introduced to the church. He was baptized when he was 19. It was winter at the time and they had to break the ice on the Colorado river to perform the baptism. I don't know how John Cornish felt about his son's baptism or if he was even consulted. Of course, it was through Uncle Lou that Mother and Daddy met.
Obviously, my father was a pioneer in his own way. He had no family support when he joined the church. He didn't "cross the plains," but he certainly was still helping to settle "the west."
When the new primary song book came out around 1988 it included a song that really spoke to me.
--To Be A Pioneer--
You don't have to push a handcart
Or leave your family dear
Or walk a thousand miles or more
To be a pioneer
You do have to have great courage
And faith to conquer fear
And fight with might for a cause that's right
To be a pioneer.
Really it was around this time, as the church began to actively change to a worldwide church and not a Utah church, and that the church leaders began to talk about the pioneering efforts of new church members. There are many types of pioneer. This primary song seemed to put these thoughts into words. It particularly touches my heart because of my father.
So when we celebrate pioneer day I often feel bad when we only focus on those who crossed the plains or helped settle Utah. If I were in charge of a pioneer celebration I would talk about Sarah Miranda Thompson.
She and her brother walked alone across the plains behind the wagons because their mother stayed in Nauvoo with the older children because she didn't want to follow Brigham Young and their father was with the Mormon battalion. They were being taken care of by another family, but children were not watched as closely in those days. These 2 children were walking behind the wagons to collect beads from ant hills9. (These beads were traded to the Indians by white settlers and apparently the ants would collect them in their ant hills.) So the children would break the ant hills apart to collect the beads9. The children, 8 and 5ish, looked up to find that they couldn't see the wagon train anymore and they had no idea which direction they had come. They knelt and asked Heavenly Father which direction they should go. They received an answer and were able to find the wagons.
There are many, many other great pioneer stories to choose from, but this one is from our family.
Anyway, I would tell a pioneer story and then I would tell my father's story. Then I would talk about how Pres. Uchtdorf's family joined the church. Maybe add another convert story and talk about how we are all pioneers in one way or another. And about how the church is built not just on the faith of the Utah pioneers but on the faith of all our member pioneers.
There are many, many other great pioneer stories to choose from, but this one is from our family.
Anyway, I would tell a pioneer story and then I would tell my father's story. Then I would talk about how Pres. Uchtdorf's family joined the church. Maybe add another convert story and talk about how we are all pioneers in one way or another. And about how the church is built not just on the faith of the Utah pioneers but on the faith of all our member pioneers.
To me, this is a big deal. Every member of the church has pioneer ancestry. I believe that everyone who is the first member of the church in their family is a pioneer. For some of us this might go back to Palmyra, Kirtland, or Nauvoo. For others it might go back to Germany after World War II, or to Africa, or to South Carolina. Each kind of pioneer should be celebrated, remembered and appreciated on Pioneer Day.
1 Naomi (always pronounced "Naoma") Black
2 William Morley Black passed through Utah, or Deseret as it was called, on his way to the California Gold Rush. He never made it that far.
3 Living in Warner Robins, Georgia
4 Later a nephew and family joined the church.
5 George Oliver Cornish
6 Elizabeth Tilden Creason
7 John Albert Cornish – John Cornish was close to 90 when he died. It was before I was born and he died in Doug’s bedroom in our house on Pierpont Avenue, Salt Lake City.
8 Once when I was about 11 we stopped at the mine on the way to Utah. Apparently daddy remembered that the miners found a lot of amethysts but that wasn't what they were mining for so they just threw them aside. We stopped to see if any were still lying around. There weren't.
9 Eventually, Sarah made a necklace of these beads. It was a cherished family heirloom until it was hidden in a cookie jar when the Mormons were driven out of "old" Mexico by Pancho Villo and his revolutionaries. See my grandmother's book "Strangers On Earth" for more on that story.
