Pioneer Day!

July 24th marks the day that we, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and the state of Utah, celebrate the first pioneers that settled in the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. I, personally, am not aware of any direct ancestors of my family that came across the plains in covered wagons and pulling handcarts some one hundred sixty one years ago. I love the pioneers and their sacrifices, I would hope that I would never be asked to endure that type of an emotional and physical test. I prefer to live in my days, where I can still defend, honor, and practice my religion while not risking my physical life to do so. I know I don't slow down often enough to recognize their contributions to my life today.
Although pioneers can be related to many interests, professions, and industries, I mostly relate pioneers to my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. In that context, I love my family's pioneers. My maternal grandparents, Ellsworth and Bernice Otts, were the first members of the church in my family. Bill's parents, Charles and Barbara Dermody, are the pioneers in his family. Bill, the kids, and I enjoy the blessings of being raised in the church. We are proud to be second, third, and fourth generation members. Our stories are different than those of the mormon pioneers of 1847, but none the less significant, inspiring, and life changing for our families. I thank our pioneers for the courage it must have taken to join this church. I am grateful that they realized the truth and that all of our lives are better as a direct result of their decisions to follow Christ. They are our heros.
On a lighter note, I found the following clip on Youtube. Beware, it is not a "traditional" rendition of "Come, Come Ye Saints", but I love it. I don't even know his name. I think it is Marcus. He sounds like he should be in that movie "O Brother, Where art thou?" If I close my eyes I can transport myself back to the deep south. In my mind's eye I can see the moss hanging from the trees. I see my childhood home and my family, some of whom have gone back to our heavenly home. I can see oak trees and cypress knees. I can smell the rain. I can smell some jambalaya or gumbo cooking on the stove. I smell Old Spice, which my Papa Blackie wore. I can hear the fiddle, the banjo, and the bluegrass jazzy music of the south. When I hear this song, it reminds me of home. Isn't it funny how music can do that?
Happy Pioneer Day!