FLORENCE BETH WINKELMAN CARLSTON

Mother was born July 6, 1914 in Mt Pleasant, Sanpete County, Utah when the principle form of transportation was the horse and buggy. She passed away October 30, 2006 at the age of 92; and was preceded by her five siblings: Jay, Laura, Grant, Alice and Billie, and her husband Golden Dean Carlston who passed Dec 6th, 2003.

When Mom was about 9 years old, her father John William Winkelman purchased 350 acres South of Mt. Pleasant where he planted grain and hay, and began developing a herd of beef Cattle. John had dropped out of school at age 12 to herd sheep. By age 26 he had acquired a herd of his own, and married 18 year old Florence Tidwell; however, as his family grew he wanted to spend more time at home, so he sold the sheep and purchased the 350 acres with a log cabin. This three room log cabin became the family home for the next 11 years; and Mom spoke often with loving passion about her years with her five siblings on the farm. She had no regrets about the humble circumstances of those times. Indeed, Mother always found a way to “maximize the positive and minimize the negative” in life (Mother and Dad alike were wonderful examples, teaching their children to always emphasize the positive lessons gleaned from difficult times). The cabin had no plumbing, so water for cooking, bathing and cleaning was drawn from a stream that ran through the property.

During the Depression, Grandpa and Grandma lost the farm, which at the time was a disaster; however this family was used to difficult times, so in due time they acquired an even better farm in the bottom of the valley with meadow grass, and several springs that gave forth delicious water I drank from as a young boy working for my Grandpa during the summer months. They also purchased a nice home in Mt. Pleasant with two bathrooms. I remember having to use the “Outhouse” some 30 yards from the house. Although the house had two bathrooms, Grandma was afraid the septic system would run over, (again), so I experienced in the late 1940’s and 50’s a small part of what Mom had experienced on the farm with the log cabin. I seldom, (I don’t remember ever), saw toilette paper in the “Outhouse”; so even though mother never said so, I assume she also had to make judicious use of Sears, and other catalogs!

During the “log cabin years”, Mom assisted her Mother as they mixed lye and lard to make laundry soap in a large cast iron tub over an open fire. This custom continued well into the 1950’s and I was able on more than one occasion to help Grandma make her homemade “laundry detergent” at the home in Mt. Pleasant! I remember the distinct texture the bed sheets took on as they dried on the cloths line from having been washed in the “detergent”. I would remove the sheet and carry it into the house for placing on the bed, but it would not relax in my arms as the laundry does today, it remained stiff, as though it had been starched. Today we revel in the 400 thread per inch sheets that are silky soft; but these many years since, my mind can still feel the distinctly pleasurable feeling of lying on those almost crisp sheets the first time I used the bed after helping Grandma make it up. I remember the feeling as comfortable, secure, and safe.

Back on the farm with the log cabin, Mom had many responsibilities being the second to oldest child. She slept on the back of the horse on warm summer days while tending the cattle, no saddle or blanket needed. She helped bottle meat, vegetables and fruit for the winter months. A trap door in the floor of the kitchen led to a cellar where the temperature was always cool to help preserve the foods laid aside for the harsh winter months when snow covered the ground. Chicken eggs were boiled, peeled and pickled in a large vat. Potatoes, carrots and apples were covered in straw and sawdust which insulated and preserved them. When the time had come to bathe, water would be heated on the stove, placed in a large metal tub where several family members used the same water!

During the sheep herd days, Jay, Mom, Grant and Laura accompanied their parents as they traveled by wagon behind the family sheep herd, to spend the summers grazing the herd in the mountains above Colton Utah. Colton is located 65 miles from Mt. Pleasant. The family would follow the sheep 35 miles north up highway 89 to thistle, then another 30 miles east, past Soldiers Summit. Grandpa had built a log shelter to protect his family from the weather, with an open air pot bellied stove for more convenient cooking. Mom’s younger sister Laura was an infant then, so 7 year old Beth would spend the long summer days pretending Laura was her child. She would slice potatoes and pretend to cook them on a pretend fire. There weren’t many toys in those days, so rocks and pieces of wood took on shapes that made them useful as pretend furniture for her pretend home where she was raising her pretend child among the clicking of the leaves of Quaking Aspen trees, the gentle whistling of the mountain breeze through pine trees, with the occasional call of the soaring hawk, the buzzing, chirping and darting of flying things, the scurrying and busy gathering of chipmunks, squirrels, ground dogs, and the faint tap tap tapping of the woodpecker … a wonderful backdrop for carefree childhood adventures. The serenity and pace of those days didn’t have to compete with todays off terrain vehicles, blasting boom boxes, and portable televisions. Those summers were wonderful experiences that Mom often reminisced about.

Reed Tucker, a friend of Golden Dean Carlston, gave Dad his first introduction to Florence Beth Winkelman by showing him a photo in the High School Yearbook. Some powerful energy must have been stored up in the picture, because Dad was forever smitten. He told Reed to get in the car, (Dad’s family was comparatively well off, so Dad had access to a vehicle), so that Reed could make the introduction. As they sped from Fairview some five miles South to Mt. Pleasant, Reed confessed to Dad that he really didn’t actually believe Beth knew him all that well; and that it might be embarrassing to knock on her door and have to introduce himself before introducing Golden. Reed’s confession didn’t slow the speeding vehicle even slightly, for Golden had been smitten with a fever he would possess for the next seventy three years. As they approached Beth’s door, it didn’t matter that it was a dilapidated log cabin, and that Dad’s house was a new brick home with running water, a heating system, and electricity. The anticipation had grown to the point that Dad pushed Reed aside and began pounding on the door. Mom had seen the dust from the car as it sped down the long dirt road South of Mt Pleasant city limits. When she saw Reed and Dad exit the car, her heart raced since she had been infatuated with Golden Dean since her freshman year in high school. She was embarrassed because she had changed into her customary coveralls in preparation for the daily chores; however, she had been participating in theatrical events since a small child, (her mother had enrolled her early in elocution lessons), so she summoned her skill and courage. Golden was still swinging at the door when Beth opened it and calmly but cheerfully said: “Hello Golden and Reed, where are you going in such a hurry”?!

Since her freshman year in high school Golden had been a consistent part of her longing moments. He was a senior, handsome and popular, and didn’t notice the younger Florence Beth, didn’t know she existed. Though she tried, she couldn’t get his attention. A girl named Lucile had her hooks in him. But when he returned from his Mormon Mission to Norway, Beth was in the congregation when he delivered his Missionary Return Address in the church. She was taken by him long before he knew of her; but God would speak to Reed and put into motion a love affair that produced five daughters, one son, 34 grand children, 90 great grandchildren, and 1 great-great grandchild while they both were still living. Prior to Mom’s passing, she had 3 great great grandchildren. Radio commentator Paul Harvey paid tribute to Mom and Dad on their 70th wedding anniversary.

As a child I remember with great pride watching my mother give readings in front of the congregation in the cultural hall of our church. The one I remember was humorous, and she had the audience rolling in the isles. The character in her reading had a severe stuttering impediment, and Mom was very convincing. Today, I am quite sure this reading would not be politically acceptable as society has become more “sensitive”. Mother had traveled throughout Sanpete County as a small child and young adult giving musical readings and performing in theatrical productions. There is no doubt in my mind that Mom had the looks and talent that could have made her a star in Hollywood. But she chose to be a wife and mother and create a grateful and loving posterity that will revere her memory for as long as memories last.

As a child, Mother experienced what she considered to be a miraculous healing which forever impacted her life. Her brother Grant was bedridden and not expected to live. (It was very common in those days for illness to take loved ones prematurely. Mother’s Grandmother, Elisa Brandenberger Winkelman had died when Mothers father John William was only 5 years old, which contributed to the need for him to begin supporting himself at age 12 as a sheepherder. Golden lost a sister and brother as infants, two sisters in their early twenties as they attempted to deliver their first children, and his mother when he was only 15 years old). As Grant lay in bed, the doctor had done all that he could for him and prepared the family for the eventual death of their child and brother. In Mormonism, it has always been one of the many responsibilities of the Elders to bless the sick while anointing them with consecrated oil. The Elders were called in and, as the family all knelt around Grant’s bed, gave what Mother describes as a beautiful blessing which not only healed Grant, but filled Mother with a sensation she never forgot. While other members of her family, including her Mother and Father did not regularly attend church services, Mother throughout her life always placed the Gospel of Jesus Christ foremost as her compass, her beacon. No one had to ask her to prepare for Sunday church services on Saturday, (no small order in those days when the Iron had to be heated on the kitchen wood burning stove, clothes had to be washed in an open tub in water drawn from a stream, soap was made with lye and lard in a large iron tub over an open fire, and church services were a two mile walk into town), she simply took it upon herself to follow the spirit which had imbued the very fiber of her being.

I feel comfortable in making this statement because I was a first hand witness to the life this saintly woman lived. I watched her raise six children, and never put her personal needs before them. I watched her weather many difficult times dealing with raising her children, in circumstances where most of the time finances were a major concern. Yes, there were some arguments between us all; children had to be disciplined, our little “community” had to be led, and it fell chiefly upon mother’s shoulders. Dad would support her by lending his lungs and loud bark, but I personally never feared him and never felt his physical wrath. I watched Mom serve Dad who was lame from his early thirties and walked on fuzzed ankles with pain in his lower extremities for the last 60 years of his life. I watched her garden, cook, sew, teach, work in the family general mercantile store, accept and fulfill all assignments from her church leaders, and take freshly prepared food to the sick and elderly in the small town of about 500 citizens in those days. (Today, I believe the population of Fairview, Utah is between 1500 and 2000). And through it all, Mom never to my knowledge asked for a “time out”, never ran from her obligation or separated herself from her duties as wife and mother. She will always in my mind be the consummate homemaker, mother, wife, and confidant.
Mother always maintained a garden and provided home grown vegetables with at least two prepared meals each day. Throughout the years, I have watched my 5 sisters put into use the many lessons they learned from Mom and Dad. I have watched them sew, garden, cook and create healthy environments for their combined 29 children. I watched them stock their modern basement food storage rooms with home bottled meat, vegetables and fruit.

Don Rogers and my #1 sister Sonya built a beautiful home in Mapleton, Utah, and added an apartment complete with wheel chair ramps, wide doors, and wheel chair accessible shower knowing that Mom and Dad would one day need to be looked after. For over a dozen years now, this wonderful home has been a point of refuge for Mom and Dad. This home is so large that all 130 plus members of Mom and Dad’s direct posterity, along with their spouses and friends, have met there on special occasions without any crowding what-so-ever! Sonya has a wonderful gift for painting, decorating and creating in the arts and crafts. Her home is like a museum for re-finished antique furniture she has personally restored, beautiful paintings she has personally created, and homemade crafts of all kinds. Her six children are loving and respectful to the teachings of their parents and grandparents. Don was a very successful business man, and today is retired and serving the Church as Patriarch to several congregations within the Mapleton, Utah area.

Kathy my #2 sister took leading rolls in college level musical productions because of the wonderful singing voice Mom and Dad helped her attain through genetic and temporal contributions. She supplemented her family income as a school teacher, and her homes through the years have been masterpieces of beautiful paintings, furniture and decorations. I remember her refinishing and re-upholstering antique furniture. I remember she personally painted and wall papered all of her homes through the years. Her 5 children are accomplished and loving and close to her and Bob Moody her husband. Today, Bob is a retired Lawyer and serves the church as Bishop to a congregation in a lovely retirement community outside Phoenix, Arizona.

Paula, #3, became a speech therapist in college, and taught for some 13 years in Utah. Through the years she has supplemented her family income by creating “Dough Art” figurines of all kinds which she has sold at various gatherings and in stores. Paula gave me my first automobile, (a red Volkswagen); she gave Mom and Dad the couch that still sits in the family home in Fairview. Until recently, she taught an autistic child for the school district where she lives in Missouri. She and Dale Richens raised 5 very kind, intelligent children. On one of my visits to Utah to visit Mother after Dad had passed away, Dale and Paula’s #2 daughter, Michelle drove from Salt Lake City to Mapleton to prepare dinner for her Grandmother and the rest of us. Chicken breasts flattened and seasoned with parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, rolled like one rolls cinnamon roll dough, breaded and baked to perfection. Lightly sautéed fresh vegetables and mashed potatoes flavored so finely that gravy would detract. And Strawberry cake the batter of which contained chopped fresh strawberries, the consistency being much like carrot cake! Michelle’s loving compassionate nature is mirrored in her sister and 3 brothers.
Claudia, my #4 sister, baked bread commercially from her home in Madison, Georgia. She delivered this bread for years throughout the community and in some commercial locations; and was well respected in her church and community. Through the years, she and Eric Fossum her husband, have consistently maintained a large garden. This indestructible, take charge mother of 7 awesome children has always been “in charge” like her mother and grandmother before. She was lying in bed with Rheumatic Fever when she reached her 8th birthday. (Mormons believe that children reach the age of accountability in their 8th year, and at that time may decide to be baptized.) Claudia has always been strong willed and opinionated; so she took charge even then and insisted that she be carried across the street to the church house to be baptized. Eric Fossum and Claudia’s children are a testament to what love and sustained involved parenting is supposed to be. Eric has served the Church as Bishop, and recently taught at two Universities in Provo and Orem, Utah.

Susan Gaye, #5 has supplemented her family income with “Dough Art” through the years. I remember her winning a State sponsored sewing contest while a high school student. Today, she uses every nook and cranny on her house lot to grow wonderful vegetables and fruits of many varieties. Her home is filled with arts and crafts she has created. She and her husband Paul Cook’s 6 children are accomplished and loving and respectable. Today, in addition to continuing the Dough Art tradition, she coordinates the testing of those students in her community who take extended courses which count as college courses. Her husband Paul Cook is serving as a Bishop for the second time as well as working full time in sales to support his family. Some reading this short history may not be aware that Mormons are called to various positions of service in the Church, and serve without pay. Even the Missionaries serve at their own expense.

I give you the above very condensed histories of my sisters because I think it is so remarkable to see how Mother’s strong will and determined nature has passed on to her daughters. Not a day goes by where I do not consider myself greatly blessed to be a part of this amazing family… these incredible saintly women!

As a child in Sunday-School, Mother once asked her teacher how babies got out of the mothers body. Her teacher responded that they came out of the navel. Years later while Dad and Mom were living in Salt Lake City attending the University of Utah, Mother became pregnant for the first time and began taking pre-natal classes. Only then did she learn the truth!

As I entered my teens, being the only son with five sisters, I was given my own room in the basement of our home in Fairview, Utah. My room doubled as a sewing room for Mom; and I have many fond memories of lying in bed watching her work late at night making wedding dresses, winter coats, shirts, skirts, and slacks. She made the elaborate wedding dresses for her five daughters, and also their prom dresses. She was very accomplished in everything she undertook to do. It was not unusual for her to work until 2 o’clock in the morning, catch a few hours of sleep and rise to cook breakfast and see her family off to work and school. I remember several multi-leveled wedding cakes she created. For several years she and her friend Mildred Lassen ran a catering service. I remember our kitchen filled with fine pastries, ornate petite sandwiches, and beautifully decorated multilevel cakes.

I remember mother sending me to Wendell Christensen’s service station to purchase white gasoline. She would dip coats and other non washable clothes in the white gas and hang them from the open garage door on the metal bar that ran from one side of the door to the other to stabilize it. This was country living before dry cleaners, and even hospitals came to Sanpete County.

Although I remember some difficult financial times our family went through, and some arguments between Mom and Dad because of these situations, I can say that I never herd my mother utter a swear word. I never saw her shrink away from her responsibilities as a wife and mother. It could be selective memory from one who so loves and admires his mother; but from the depth of my heart I believe my mother was the most saintly woman I ever knew or met. Even when she would sit next to me at the piano to “force” me to concentrate on my practicing, even when she would swat my fingers with a “fly swat” when I would lose focus, (a common event since I am convinced I was the first unrecorded, undiagnosed case of Attention Deficit Disorder in Utah), I never once questioned her motives or love for me. Mom had to assume the role of disciplinarian in my case since my father could not bring himself to punish his only son with more that verbal chidings done with diplomacy, respect and love. I look back at those years, with deep love and respect for my mother’s steady hand on my backside trying to keep me in line. I am certain I would have given up my piano studies at an early age had it not been for my mothers strong will and determination. Today when I enter my door in the evening after a long day at work, I find incomparable solace in sitting at my piano expressing my emotions through the universal language … music.

I remember when I was about 8 years old living in Perris, California with my family. The Mormon Church owned a large ranch where about seven families lived and worked to maintain the property which was used to raise cattle, hogs, and some grain. The products were used to support the Church’s Welfare Program which then and now provides food, clothing and employment for the poor and disabled. The ranch had once been a race horse facility, and the famous Sea Biscuit was buried next to a race track that was on the property. Today I understand the entire ranch has been subdivided into housing. Back in 1951 however, my father presided as the Foreman under his good friend Rodney Bagnel who was the Manager. There were not enough church members in the surrounding area to have an actual Ward of members, so the Church had established a Branch on the ranch by converting the old Horse Hospital into a small chapel with the stalls becoming the various classrooms and the central area becoming where the congregation would be seated. I remember knotty Pine walls that had been varnished…the original wood from the time the building was erected. I had recently been baptized into the church and was wearing a yellow corduroy sport coat Mom had made specifically for my baptism. This particular Sunday, the meeting had ended, and I was standing next to a group of women and overheard one of them say: “Will you just look at Beth Carlston; she has had six children, and still has that wonderful figure! … how do you suppose she does it!?” I stepped up and said: “Not only that, but she made my coat!”

Throughout my entire life, by mother has been a great source of pride for me. It seemed to me there was nothing she could not do. She always had hot meals at least two times a day, and a garden. She baked the best whole wheat bread, and seemed to accept my greed when I would come home, find fresh loaves cooling on the counter top, take one of the loaves and cut the entire bottom layer away which gave me a crusty open faced piece much tastier to me than a simple “end Cut” because it seemed to hold more melted butter and honey without running through the bread … this with a glass of milk was the ultimate snack. Friends and relatives called our home “Hotel Fairview” because one did not need an invitation or advanced notice to stop in and receive home cooking beyond comparison.

Even before Dad died in December, 2003, Mom has been under the constant care of her five devoted daughters. Each week one of her daughters has slept in the apartment attached to Don and Sonya’s home built some 13 years ago so that Dad and Mom would have a wheel chair accessible residence during the fragile years when we all eventually revert back to the dependant stage where we began. It is amazing, but not surprising that my Sisters would extend such unselfish love to their parents. These incredible women leave their families and jobs at pre-arranged intervals to spend a week at a time, returning the unselfish love and compassion they received throughout their lives from the world’s greatest parents. For over three years now, Mother’s five daughters have watched over her every move. As she reverted back to childhood, often forgetting in mid sentence what she was intending to convey, as she transitioned from cane to walker to wheel chair, as macular degeneration, the genetically transmitted retinal disease destroyed her vision and it became necessary to assist each trip to the bathroom, as Osteoporosis bent her back to the point where she required two pillows in order to lie on her back, her five daughters faithfully and lovingly administered her every need.

The above is not the ramblings of a romantic and I don’t feel I have stretched the truth. I watched Mom on her hands and knees with arthritic 89 year old hands, and eyes ravaged by macular degeneration, placing Dad’s socks and shoes on swollen feet and ankles that were discolored from lack of circulation. When Dad needed something, being pretty much confined to his recliner chair and weighing some 245 lbs, he would call out to his sweet-heart and she would stop what she was doing to tend to his needs. This was a pattern that had begun some 60 years earlier when Dad fell at a construction site shattering his ankles, and breaking his back, arm and wrist, spending almost a year in a full body cast, and ending up with legs that on several occasions the doctors wanted to amputate; but Dad wouldn’t hear of it in spite of each painful step. But after 60 years of the extra care he required, this woman would have worked herself into a grave ahead of Dad had my Sisters not intervened.

Mom did not understand the meaning of the words quit, rebel, and retreat. She approached her role as wife and mother with the same simple acceptance she displayed with her Sunday-School teacher’s story of how babies entered the world. Not that Mom was not intelligent or educated, on the contrary, she had great understanding of life matters; but seemed to operate with “an eye single to the glory of God”. She didn’t just learn about her Savior’s wishes regarding her actions, His teachings became a part of her very being. She didn’t question the Doctrine; she simply focused on the finish line and doggedly pursued her goal of eternal life in the presence of her God, completely believing that the marriage covenant she entered into in the Temple where she was sealed to Golden for all time and eternity was real, valid and necessary.

Dad spent the last few months of his life in a hospital bed in the second bedroom of their apartment in Don and Sonya’s home. After his passing, Mom chose to sleep in the same room rather than the Master suite because she wanted to be where her Golden had been. During times when she would become distressed at not being able to work and serve as she had always done, my Sisters frequently witnessed her lying on her back in bed with her arms spread wide to the heavens pleading with her Golden to please come and get her. She looked forward to going to Paradise where she expected to teach those who had not heard on earth the Gospel of Jesus Christ she so revered. One of the many scriptures Mom had committed to memory was in 1st Peter, the third chapter where it tells of the resurrected Savior preaching the Gospel to the spirits in prison (paradise). She so wanted to be a part of that service, and had no fear of death as well she shouldn’t have; because as surely as God exists, arms are open wide, angels are singing and trumpets are sounding the arrival of this faithful servant who indeed endured to the end.

MAMA
You could have been in the movies, an actress, a famous star.
You had the looks and talent that could have taken you high and far.
But you chose to be a wife and mother, to create life, give it meaning and direction.
In my eyes, there will never be another, for whom I hold this special kind of affection.
Mama, you’re my star, you gave me life and self esteem.
Mama, you’re my star, you helped fulfill my childhood dreams.
You’re the Heroine in my life’s drama,
You’re my friend, my confidant, my Mama.
You didn’t seek the world’s acclaim, fame and fortune’s dream you cast aside.
You decided to pursue motherhood, to be our teacher director, Papa’s bride.
You didn’t choose an easy road; and you never ran from your obligation.
The consummate homemaker, eternal optimist, finally gets her standing ovation.
Mama, you’re my star, you gave me life and self esteem.
Mama, you’re my star, you helped fulfill my childhood dreams.
You’re the Heroine in my life’s drama,
You’re my friend, my confidant, my Mama.

Dean LeGrand Carlston Sr.