Penrose Reflections: James Orvil Wasden

James Orvil Wasden

That 27th day of May, 1910, was a beautiful spring morning at our farm home in Penrose. It was my birthday. I was 9 years old, but no one was thinking of that right then. We children had been sent to play with friends, but with the appearance of the midwife, I suddenly knew what was happening. So, keeping out of the way as best I could, for our home was only a two room log house at that time, I hung about trying to think of something to make Mama feel better… then I had to go away, so I took a pail and went out to the water barrels which were on a sled across the irrigation ditch by the front gate. Dipping from the “waterhole” I poured water into the barrels until the midwife came out and said, “your Mama wants to see you.” Is it a boy or a girl?” I didn’t wait for an answer.

Wrapped in the little blanket Mama had made and lying beside her was the new baby brother, all red-faced and tight fisted. Late afternoon after she had slept, Mama said, “I’m afraid we didn’t do much about your birthday - not even a present or a cake.”

“Oh, but the baby is my present. He’s mine, the nicest present ever.”

Mama smiled and called us her twins and perhaps that helped foster that special something between us.

Naming the baby was an important family affair. Many names were discussed but not one seemed right. At last Mama said, “If he’s your birthday present, you should help name him.” Then we went over all the list of names again and when she came to Orvil, I said, “That’s the name for the baby, but he should have Papa’s name, too.”

So on the ninth day of June we took the baby to Church and Papa blessed him and named him James Orvil. I took care that he was called Orvil.

Orvil was sixth of seven children; David, Sofe, Brooks, Minnie, Elna in that order. The seventh member, Lucinda, arrived at a later date. Well, he grew as babies will and was a really good baby even in the eyes of his impatient sister. Of course it became my business to tend him and rock him, to sleep in the cradle for Mama had so much to do. Mama became very concerned over an enlargement which appeared on the baby’s neck and seemed to bother his breathing. What to do with no doctor available? What does a mother do? I remember the consecrated oil and the administration and after awhile the enlargement disappeared and was forgotten.

Cindy, Minnie, Grandpa & Grandma, Orvil and Elna

Even as a small lad he was happy. He’d look up from his business at hand always with that wide smile as though he enjoyed whatever he was doing. Such a spirit was a needed influence in our home for not all of us were as calm dispositioned. School days began when he was absorbed in the business of finding out what was in all those books, but no matter the task or situation, his attitude was to do a good job and be happy about it. This earned him the sobriquet, “Happy” and that became his name to everyone.

After Sunday School, 7 July 1918, families and baptism candidates gathered at the canal near the southeast corner of our farm and there Orvil was baptized. That afternoon in Testimony meeting he was confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of latter Day Saints. He felt keenly the importance of that ordinance. He was happy when he was ordained a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood. Proudly he performed his responsibilities in the Church and Priesthood. As a young man he served as Assistant Sunday School Superintendent, Counselor in the Branch Presidency and after the Penrose Branch was disorganized due to lack of enough members he joined the Byron Ward and taught in the Sunday School there.

A severe attack of measles left his weak eyes weaker, so from that time on he wore glasses. He and I both had the same problem of one eye sighting a bit higher than the other so the glasses helped that, too.

I was married in 1920 and lived in Basin for several years. With roads and transportation being what they were, visits were infrequent and I missed many happenings. But Mama said that was his unhappiest time. He didn’t want me to go away.

After graduating from the eighth grade at Penrose, Orvil attended high school in Powell. He loved sports of all sorts and wanted to play football so much that he often jogged the ten miles home after a practice session if no transportation was available; jogged or ran, so the ribbons won in tract events were a natural result. After high school he remained on the farm working with our father.

He loved to hunt. The McMullough peaks west of Penrose afforded many happy hours when work was not too pressing. There he found antelope and deer, and also predators such as the coyote.

He grew to nearly six feet tall, taller than either brother, with light brown hair, blue eyes and always that friendly twinkle. He spoke rather slowly and I doubt if anyone ever felt uncomfortable around him - unless there was mischief afoot. He loved to joke and would save one up for weeks so he could enjoy the blank look on my face when he sprung it on me. He was now carrying the burden of all the farm work. Papa was ill. His heart was grossly enlarged and returning bouts with malaria, contracted while on his mission in Florida, made it necessary to take a rest. He and Mama went south for the winter leaving the home place in Orvil’s care. Most of the stock had been sold so there was little for him to do during the winter months.

He came to our place in Lovell and stayed with us for a month. When he decided to go home he said, “Good-bye” and hiked off across the fifteen miles to Penrose. Of course we went up there to be sure he got home and was all right. He said, “Oh, I didn’t want to put you to any bother. Besides I hike a few miles all the time.”

There wasn’t much work to be had that winter, but he was not idle. If there was nothing he could do to help Alvin, he did little chores about the house. I was so grateful for the buttons sewed on, the everlastingly holey sox mended. I teased him about making some girl a great husband. He said, “I can’t see laying around when I’m not busy, letting any woman do all these things when I am more able to do them.”

One evening I prepared a large chocolate pudding for dessert. I called the family to supper. No one came. I called again, crossly, “Come and get it, or I’ll throw it out.” Everyone ran to the table. I lifted the pot of pudding from the stove and at that instant it slipped from my hands with a big splash all over the stove, table, chairs and floor. Everyone laughed, except me. They all cleared out except Orvil, still laughing, who helped me clean up the mess.

Delilah Mae Asay circa 1932

On a day in late summer, 1935, Orvil came to visit and I sensed with something on his mind. He said he had found the GIRL, now if he could only get her to marry him. “Did she turn you down?” “No, I haven’t asked her yet.” “Well, silly, how’s she going to know if you don’t say anything? Go, do something about it.” Next time he came in, Mr. Happy was back. Delilah Mae Asay, youngest daughter of Adelbert and Delilah Mae Boice Asay, had said, “Yes.”

Delilah Mae Asay and James Orvil Wasden
Wedding Day 4 Nov 1935

They went to Salt Lake City and were married in the temple, 4 Nov 1935. They moved to a cottage on our parents’ property for Orvil would continue to work the farm for Papa as he had always done.

It was a proud day when on the first of August, 1937, their son Philip Asay Wasden was born, and again when on 7 August, 1939 they announced the arrival of a daughter, Marlene.

A Wasden family reunion was scheduled the next summer in Yellowstone Park. My family was not able to go and leave the sawmill, but made it possible for me to go with Lucinda and our parents. We had fun setting up the tent and making up the beds in it. Orvil and Mae and their two little ones rode in the beet truck as that carried our food and other necessities and the beet rack would make a safe bed for their family, it being quite high from the ground. The notorious bears of Yellowstone would not bother them there. The camp had just settled for its first sleep when such commotion arose as to rouse the dead! Woofs and grunts, and Mae crying out, “My children, my babies.” Everyone was looking for flashlights or weapons when we heard Orvil laugh. It seems that Mae had used her broom to sweep the debris out of the beet box and had left it there. She grabbed it up and swept Mr. Bear right out of the beet box when he got up there looking for food. That was a highlight of the reunion.

Adelbert and Delilah Asay Family 1940. Mae Asay Wasden is seated

on far right holding Marlene (abt 1 year old), Philip (abt 3)

seated on grass and James Orvil Wasden standing behind.

The future was looking brighter. It was Valentine’s Eve, 1943. Orvil had just come by to tell Alvin that at last Papa was leasing the farm to him to run and the bank would finance him and in a year or two he could buy the place. He was so happy that day. He said, “Who could want more? I have my good little wife, a son, a daughter, a way to make a living for them and will soon have the farm. I’m going home and we’re having a Valentine party tonight and really celebrate.”

James Orvil and Mae, Philip and Marlene Wasden
Approx 1942

The next time we saw him was in the Lovell Hospital. The live coals in the kitchen stove triggered the explosion which wrapped him in flames burning over most of his body. When he roused enough to know I was there, he acknowledged me with a faint smile and said, “I’ll be better.” He died on the 16th for at that time there was nothing could be done except deaden the pain. The funeral service was held in Byron Ward and his final resting place is on the hill overlooking the valley of Penrose which had always been his home.

But life goes on and we who are left, must adjust. The threads of life are not all broken, just extended beyond our sight, so we were happy when on 11 August that year of 1943, another son was born and named James Orvil Wasden.