The Picture

Years ago I wanted to write a book about the women of Kern County dating from the 1910’s through the early 1950’s. That era and the area seemed to encompass the fortitude of strength. These were women of diverse cultures such as the Mennonites, Blacks, Hispanics, Whites, Catholics, Mormons’ Baptists, Japanese decent and so on. They lived through World War I, the building of new settlements, The Great Depression, The Exodus of migrant workers, World War II, and the Korean War.

 My grandmother was LDS. She came from strong LDS pioneer stock. Her people came west from Nauvoo, Illinois to Utah in the 1850’s. Brigham Young sent her family south to the dry, arid land of Southeast Arizona to cultivate a settlement. Grams was active in the Church her entire life. My dad says his mom attended several different churches just so she could attend Sunday meetings.

 Grams married my grandfather in 1913. His family was also LDS and came from Indiana. Tradition holds that he broke every promise he ever made to her. I don’t remember how they ended up in Kern County. They had a family of fourteen kids – two of whom died in infancy – and most likely transverse to the area looking for work.  

 When I moved back to Utah in December 2002, I was looking for places to research the Bakersfield area from the confines of Utah. Some suggested the Archives of the LDS Church in Salt Lake.  So, I did. What I did not anticipate was the plethora of information on my own family. I began looking through the attendance rolls of the various auxiliary meetings. Of special interest was the Relief Society Meetings.  They included notes of who was sick, who died, who was moving, as well as the progress on the new Relief Society Room. In these notes I found many members of my family mentioned – those who I would never have suspected of ever stepping foot inside a church, let alone the LDS Church!

It was the summer of 2003. I was out of work and earnestly searching. Perusing the notes on a daily basis left me with a sense of wonder at what these fine people looked liked. As if in answer to my prayer I came across an entry telling about the photo that was to be taken for the Relief Society Magazine. I quickly ran downstairs to the library that held all of the magazines from the past. Upon finding their picture I got the distinct impression they were saying, “Here we are!”  I copied the picture along with the names of those long-ago-women who now seemed like old friends, including my grandmother, Zella Dodge McDonald.

 Fast forward to July 2011. Climbing to the top of the stairs in the Mount Timpanogos Temple in American Fork, Utah, there stood a woman by the last name of Gabbitas. Gabbitas was the name of a family frequently mention in the notes I had been transcribing the summer of 2003. I asked her the whereabouts of her family. She said her husband’s family was from the Bakersfield area. I told her about the picture saying I was sure her mother-in-law was in it. Sadly, she was not but her name was one that was mentioned. As promised, I delivered a copy of the picture for her at the temple.

 In August, Cheryl Gabbitas was visiting with old friends, Roger and Jackie Campbell. She mentioned my name. Roger wondered if I could be the same one whose father he had hung around when they were teenagers in the early 1950’s. He called and left a message. Yes, I was! The last time I had seen Roger and Jackie was when my second child was just a baby. He had brought out a chair my dad had made for her. My daughter now had a child of her own.

Roger and my dad had been close friends. Roger dated Dad’s younger sister, Joyce. Cheryl and her husband were good friends with Dad’s older brother, Dean, and his wife, Anna. Both Joyce and Dean have long since crossed over to the other side.

In October 2011 we were all able to get together in American Fork, Utah for dinner. It amazes me at how I was looking for material to write a book about one particular topic and stumbled into an unexpected surprise – the picture and the stories connected to it. I wasn’t trying to find information on my family but I did – much more, some of which ended in completing further temple work along with developing a better understanding of my own family.

I have found that researching family history is more than collecting data for temple work. It’s looking past to the past and seeing who these people were with all the smells, sounds, and feels of the time. “And like the warm breezes blowing through the fields, they are felt too. Remember? They were here just yesterday.”

~Kelli L. McDonald, January 3, 2012