Bunk beds

These two boys have a bunk bed!

I had been looking online for a while, but both boys still technically fit in their toddler beds, so it wasn't really a rush. 

But then our neighbor was moving and offered these for free, and we jumped at it. They are not as tall, which is perfect for our low basement ceilings. This is JB putting up the top bunk, so you can see the height:

Millie got to hang out up there before the mattresses went on.

We put the main toddler bed that Andrew was using into the garage attic until Millie needs it, and sold James's firetruck toddler bed the same day we posted it online. James got it on his third birthday, the month before Millie was born.

I think both boys (ages 4 1/2 and 7) must be sleeping more comfortably now, on nice mattresses with room to stretch out. Sometimes I can hear them both on the top bunk making noise at bedtime, because the heating vent is right above it in the ceiling.

Speaking of bunk beds, aren't these two girlies so cute? This is Millie and Kate on the bottom bunk in Seattle (pictures by Bethany. She has a good eye).

Now we have four boys in two rooms on bunk beds.  In our St Louis house when I was a teen, my parents put two sets of bunk beds in one room downstairs for four of my younger brothers. Must have been party-central!

To remember

Me and my sisters

On the drive back from Oak Harbor to Seattle area, I made a list on my phone of the things I wanted to remember from the funeral.

Things like my grandpa's service to his country. I heard more about his time in the South Pacific during WW2, but I did not know that he helped with the Berlin Rescue Air Missions in the 1950s. Or how he raised and lowered the flag morning and night outside their home every day, and taught his children how to fold the flag. I do remember many curios and souvenirs in his home from his Navy travels around the world.

My dad and his sisters told such funny and poignant stories, about the Ozarks, about shooting squirrels, carrying a knife, loving his pie (he pronounced my pie "ma pah"), tools, diesel VWs, and never swearing (once he said "son of a gun" after a crash).

I loved hearing about his testimony of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I knew growing up that my dad was not born in the church, while my mom came from the days of early church history.

When my dad was 4, the missionaries knocked on his parents' door on the naval base where they were stationed in California. My grandma said to come back that evening when my grandpa was home, and they did. He had a pipe and offered them a beer, because he had plenty in the fridge. They declined, and proceeded to teach them about the gospel.

They were baptized a year later, and my dad and his little sisters were sealed to their parents in the Los Angeles Temple. He remembers the long day and being dressed in white. They soon moved to Oak Harbor with the Navy, and met in a home in a small branch -- and they were needed. Their testimonies grew there.

Some things happened that could have shaken his faith or his resolve, but they didn't:

-They wrote to their families in Missouri and told them they found the truth. Their families were not interested.
-The missionaries that baptized them went home and fell away from the Church. My grandpa would write to them.
-On January 11, 1979, my grandpa's birthday, his son Bruce was shot and killed by his roommate in his sleep at BYU.
-My grandma died too early of cancer.

Each time he moved forward with faith, even though it was extremely hard. From my aunt: "He got up, showered and shaved, and walked to church."

He served as a bishop, stake patriarch, a missionary and an ordinance worker in the temple. He was obedient. He did family history and read scriptures.

What a legacy.

From my aunt: “My Dad recognized the truth and never hesitated. He moved forward with faith and never looked back.”

The funeral

On Friday, JB, Millie and I flew to Washington State for my grandpa's funeral.  I am so grateful for this opportunity, and grateful for what I learned about him there. What an example he was of service and love of God, country and family.

Six of my siblings were there -- Joe, Seth, Stephen and Rebekah all flew, while Emily drove from Missouri with my parents and her two daughters.

We all stayed with my brother Michael, his wife Bethany and their cute kids. They have a beautiful home, and we all got to visit lots and catch up.  Millie didn't miss her brothers as much because she had so many playmates! And girl cousins!

Saturday was the funeral in Oak Harbor, on Whidby Island. It is about an hour 20 minutes from Michael's house.  The island is so beautiful. I can't believe my dad grew up there and didn't want to move back and live there! But I am told it can be quite rainy.

I laughed and I cried and I felt the spirit strong during the funeral. My dad and three aunts spoke, and between them all I got such a broader picture of my grandpa. Things I had forgotten, but many things I did not know about his conversion story, his testimony, and his service. He was so quiet, and the visiting stopped as he got older.  I think I will share many of the things I want to remember in another post.

Almost every one of the 42 grandchildren and several of the 86 great-grands were there.

This is Mildred/Millie. She was in their ward and helped with mealtimes for Vernie and Ruth at the end. She told a great story about how my grandpa would share one Oreo with her at the end of every meal, but she heard him rustling in the kitchen and was sure he helped himself to more.

Over at the cemetery, we took pictures in groups of families. Here's my dad and my mom and 7 of their 12 children, 2 of 7 spouses and 7 of 16 grandchildren.

And here are Vernie Deardeuff's descendants in attendance.

The six living children (Bruce died in 1979). L-R youngest to oldest are Pam, Carol, Tim, Joan, Susan, David.

The Navy tribute was touching. They folded the flag and presented it to my dad.

We didn't want to lose the feelings we had, or the connection with family, so we went to be with my aunt Carol and her family in the beach house they rented for the weekend.

This was such a fantastic view, and so calming. It's a touristy part of the island for sure. My dad was there first! And the Navy was there first.

On the way back to Michael's that night, JB and Emily and I (she was riding with us) thought we'd stop at Ivar's and get some clam chowder for my parents. Seth was riding with them, and said they were good, they were getting food. We pull into Ivar's, and there they were inside, haha.

Sunday morning we relaxed with family. The siblings were all trickling back at different times for their flights. Ours was in the afternoon after sacrament meeting with Michael's ward. Millie slept on me on the whole flight back and I got to watch a movie.

The boys were soooo happy to see her when we got to my in-laws house late last night. They all ran right to her -- except Jamesy ran to me. They had pizza and hamburgers and treats and soda and loved every minute, and I am very glad they were in good hands.

Toothless

7 year old Andrew found a sure-fire way to earn money, and stay up late. Pull out your own tooth at bedtime!

JB sent me that picture when I was at my monthly book group. I had tucked him into bed with a wiggly tooth and he calmly got it out himself (he tells me he doesn't sleep at night).

Just a few days before, he pulled out a wiggly one on the bottom by himself.  Third children are the best. So independent.

JB bought the teeth from him. He said he is collecting them and offered a better rate than the tooth fairy. She always comes late at our house, anyway. She either forgets, or must be super busy at other kids' houses at night.

My grandpa

Earth lost another member of the Greatest Generation yesterday.  My grandpa Vernie passed away peacefully in his sleep, just a few weeks after Ruth died. He was 95 years old.

He grew up in Missouri, but World War Two sent him to the South Pacific, and then he traveled all over the world in his career with the Navy. My dad was raised in Oak Harbor, Washington, a big Navy port. LDS Missionaries came to their door, when my dad was young. 

I was baptized there during a visit one summer in between our move from Peru to Brazil. My grandma Maxine died when I was around 8, and I only have a few memories of her, but an older cousin once told me I looked like her, and I totally see it in the picture below.

I am glad for his example. I am glad for his long, full life. I am jealous of my cousins who knew him better. I am sad for my dad and his siblings.