Bonnie Davis Thomas
Bonnie Davis Thomas
A life of service, courage, and love
Monday, October 25, 2010
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Not long ago, a friend addressed my wife, Bonnie, as Bonita. He had often heard me address her that way and thought that was her regular nickname. “Please don’t call me that,” she replied to our friend. “I only let my husband call me that.”
The strange thing is, I don’t recall when or why I began calling her Bonita. It, of course, means “ little pretty one” in Spanish. Apparently the fact she was pretty and lived in New Mexico when we first met had something to do with this term of endearment. But I didn’t actually call her Bonita until long after we were married. Go figure? It just happened, that’s all I know.
It is also distressing to me that I can’t remember when I actually met Bonnie, or Bonita. Many times we fail to remember important events in our lives. I don’t remember learning when or how I learned to ride a bicycle, but I did. I don’t remember exactly when and how I learned to drive an automobile, but I did. It does seem strange, though, that I would not recall when I met the most important person in my life.
The place where I first met Bonnie, I do remember. It was at BYU, in the fall of 1951. Her brother, Reed, claims to be the one who really introduced us. While I was immediately impressed by this vivacious young woman, she had serious doubts about me. The only time she had seen me before was when my friend, Keith West, and I galloped into the Smith Field House on two white horses. We were a preliminary event to our ‘Val Hyric’ social unit assembly and wanted to get everyone‘s attention. Social Units were the BYU version of Sororities and Fraternities and each one put on an hour assembly for the rest of the student body sometime during the year. Most of these assemblies were silly skits, but Bonnie had never seen anything so dumb as watching those two “cowboys” from Rock Springs, Wyoming, gallop twice around the dirt track circumscribing the basketball floor. The assemblies were held on the basketball floor, and great care was taken not to mar the finish. The dust stirred up by the horses settled over the new floor, as well as most of the students in attendance. Bonnie, like most of the other students, was not impressed.
But, by some miracle I convinced Bonnie to go on a “date.” It wasn’t much of a date, as dates usually go, but she agreed to go on a group date at Vivian Park where we played softball. When the game broke up, Bonnie and I decided to play tennis with another couple. We soon tired of chasing after badly hit tennis balls and decided to go to a baseball game. The BYU baseball team was playing Utah State and we spent the rest of the afternoon watching the game and getting to know each other. Bonnie still thought I was some kind of weird cowboy, but she was at least tolerant.
Bonnie was always very popular on campus. She was involved with all sorts of activities and was first attendant to the Snow Queen at the Winter Carnival four consecutive years---a record that still stands today.
By the time we were seniors, we had dated on and off many times. Each time that I thought I had a chance to get Bonnie to “go steady,” something else came up---usually some other fellow. She dated the likes of Dallin Oaks, Loren Dunn and a bunch of other fellows I prefer not to remember.
I also had dated other girls, but only one with any serious intent. She became very ill and died within two months of my dating her. While visiting her at the LDS hospital in Salt Lake one day, Elder Matthew Cowley of the Quorum of the Twelve came to give her a blessing. He asked me to assist. He had a well known record of giving miraculous blessings and I felt sure her life would be spared. When she passed away, I wrote Elder Cowley regarding my disappointment in his blessing, so to speak. He wrote back a personal and most eloquent letter that I should have kept. In fact I did keep it for a long time, since it gave me such a good feeling to have more understanding of Priesthood Blessings. It must have been misplaced over the years.
During this senior year, I was elected vice-president of the Associated Men Students, and Bonnie and I were both elected Senior Class representatives on the Student Council. This was very fortunate for me, for it brought us together to work on various projects. I was also able to escort her several times to President Wilkinson’s home. He loved to entertain the student leaders, and we enjoyed many Sunday evening social events amidst distinguished guests that often included members of the faculty and Church leaders.
Bonnie and I began to get a little more serious in our relationship. In fact, she had many of her friends “stack” the voting boxes and I was elected on of the Ten Preferred Men on Campus that year. I think Bonnie used the old Chicago voting method by telling her friends to vote early and vote often.
On one occasion, I thought to improve my status in Bonnie’s eyes by asking her over to my place of residence for a home cooked dinner. Several of us male students rented cabins at the Riverside Lodge, located then along the Provo River close to the main highway into Orem from the Provo Hospital. We had a stove, frig and well stocked pantry. I chose to make a cherry pie, her favorite, to especially impress Bonnie. Having no experience in making pie crusts, I just mixed flour with lard as I had seen my mother do. I paid little attention to the proportions, apparently, and although the pie looked great to me, it almost made Bonnie physically ill. The rest of meal must have been good enough for her to choke down, but it took her several months before she could eat a normal cherry pie again. It also took and several hours before she decided I wasn’t really as incompetent as I seemed.
However, as we graduated in June, our relationship was definitely serious and we spoke of marriage.. There were problems that had to be dealt with. I was being commissioned to go directly into the Air Force and Bonnie needed to find a job. She had been accepted for a special school in Denver where she would be trained as a flight attendant for Frontier Air Lines. Marriage, it seemed, was not logical or practical at this time.
By Thanksgiving, Bonnie was settled in her job, and the Air Force had sent me to UCLA to study meteorology for a year. As a 2nd Lt. in the Air Force, I was making more money than I dreamed possible: $350 every month. Bonnie was also finding that being a flight attendant on DC 3 airplane that bounced all over the turbulent skies of the Rocky Mountains was not much fun. It appeared that being apart did make our hearts grow fonder.
On Thanksgiving Day of 1953, we became engaged. We left dinner at her sister’s home in Provo and began the drive to Bonnie’s apartment in Salt Lake. As I turned the radio on, we heard a strange announcement. The announcer said there had been a tragic airplane crash at the airport in Paris, France. The USAF plane did a cartwheel while landing, killing all crew members. The next morning I learned that my closest cousin, Grant Almond, of Downey, Idaho, was one of those killed. It set a somber tone for our engagement. Grant and I had spent our summers together, working on his dad’s farm in Downey. He was my age, just 23.
As I departed for UCLA, we decided to get married at the semester break, with February 1st as our target date. We were able to reserve a time at the Salt Lake Temple and Bonnie’s uncle, Apostle Delbert Stapley of the Quorum of the Twelve said he would marry us. Bonnie took care of all the arrangements. All I had to do was show up.
When I did show up, it was at an inopportune moment. I came into the Dangerfield home in Provo and said hello to Bonnie‘s sister, Carol. I then started for the kitchen, and as I approached the door, I heard Bonnie confiding to her Mother. “I’m not even sure I love him,” she was sobbing. I stood somewhat transfixed as I heard Bonnie’s Mom calm her by explaining “cold feet” and pre-wedding jitters. I was grateful for her support of me, and decided not to make myself known till much later that night.
By morning, Bonnie’s jitters had vanished, or rather, transferred to me. In those days we went to the county court house to get our marriage license before going to the Temple. I was so nervous, I could barely sign the document, and on our way out of the courthouse the license flew out of my hand in a gust of wind and fell right into a mud puddle. I quickly retrieved the document and wiped it clean before any significant damage occurred.
Everything moved at a whirlwind pace after that. We were married, had a wedding breakfast at Little America and went to Provo for the first of our two receptions. In Provo we would greet most of our college friends and members of my family. The next day we started for our second reception in Albuquerque for Bonnie’s family. We were on a tight schedule and had to be back at UCLA within a week.
Before leaving Provo, my Dad took me aside and gave me $100 in cash. I was overcome. Dad never made much money, and I am sure there were very few times when he and Mom ever had that much money at one time in their entire lives. The money was a life saver and I never forgot my parent’s kindness at that time.
I forgot to tell Bonnie about the money my parents had given us. It was a very hectic time and we left right away for New Mexico. By the time we reached Moab, we were both famished and decided to stop and get something to eat. Using the rule that truck drivers stop at the best cafes, we parked our tired Pontiac next to a huge truck, dashed into the café and went directly to the restrooms. Bonnie accomplished her “mission” first and was seated at a table by the waitress. Thinking we were still on a very tight budget, she ordered a small bowl of soup. I then returned from the restroom, sat down and immediately ordered a T-bone steak without even looking at the menu. I didn’t know it at the time, but that steak just about cooked my goose. Bonnie didn’t get mad and throw the soup in my face. She didn’t hit me either, although she probably wanted to. She just looked at me, mouth open, in disbelief. She loved steak, I was informed in crisp, one syllable words. And even though she was famished, there was no point in ordering a steak for her now. The die was cast. I was a selfish brute. I was to receive the silent treatment for the next six hours.
I gulped down the steak and was happy to reach the car without bodily injury. I was even happier when we reached the Davis home in Albuquerque where I hoped a truce would be declared. I was rapidly learning the delicate art of marital communication.
Our stay in Albuquerque would only be for two days and one night---the night of our reception. We also decided to stay with Bonnie’s parents. They had flown from Salt Lake on Frontier Airlines and arrived well ahead of us.
Bonnie‘s mother, Anna, greeted us warmly with big hugs at the front door. Seeing that I was loaded down and juggling three suitcases, Anna told me to put our things in Bonnie‘s bedroom. I was glad to know what to do with my heavy load, but hesitated when I saw Bonnie take a step backward.
“In my bedroom,” Bonnie asked incredulously? She was still a little miffed about the T-bone steak, and when her own mother assigned us to sleep in her old room, Bonnie turned quite pale.
“Maybe Claude could sleep in Reed’s room,” she pleaded. Reed was on his mission, and Honeymoon or not, there were just some things parents weren’t supposed to think about, let alone be a party to. “My bed is too small,” she replied in her best Goldilocks’ manner. And Claude would like Reed’s room---there’s more boy stuff.” Bonnie was definitely uncomfortable about the proposed sleeping arrangements, and I was obviously still in the dog-house over that darned steak.
My new Mother-in-law understood Bonnie’s dilemma immediately and burst out laughing. She put her arms around her daughter and reminded her she was legally and lawfully married and her old room could now be properly shared with her husband.
Bonnie began to weaken, but did not join in with her mother’s laughter. Neither did I. I remained silent on the matter, realizing I was already treading on thin ice, to say the least. The idea of sanctuary in Reed’s room began to sound more and more like a good idea---at least till the storm clouds passed.
Things soon settled down, however, and rest of the day, including the reception, went well. After brushing my teeth in the bathroom down the hall, I quietly tip-toed into Bonnie’s bedroom and laid down on the outer six inches of available space. I tried to breathe just as quietly as possible. Bonnie was tired and fast asleep. I soon fell asleep as well, but thought at any minute I might find myself sleeping on the floor as a final payment for the “incident in Moab.“
The next morning all seemed back to normal. We checked the wedding presents and packed them into our small two-door Pontiac and departed for Los Angeles. It was February, and the Arizona desert presented no special problems. We stopped the next night in in small town of Mesa, and stayed with Bonnie’s Aunt Mae. Mesa was beautiful at that time of year and Bonnie and I were finally able to relax. When Aunt Mae asked what we wanted for dinner, I laughingly suggested T-bone steaks. Bonnie said I should have chicken noodle soup. Aunt Mae thought barbequed steaks sounded better. It was a memorable evening. Along with Aunt Mae, Bonnie and I ate our first meal together in peace and harmony. The scent of orange blossoms filled the night air. The days of time-tables, stress and strain were well behind us and we felt very secure and comfortable. I, at least, finally felt really married. Bonnie was not going to ask for a refund.
The next day found us on our last leg of our journey. Just before we entered Los Angeles, Bonnie fell asleep in the passenger seat, and when she awoke, we were speeding down a busy California freeway. Having never seen such a sight, Bonnie almost leaped from the car in fright as she saw dozens of cars and trucks whizzing by in two directions across six lanes with vehicles dashing on and off freeway ramps. Her introduction to L.A. was indeed memorable.
We arrived at our little apartment on Sepulveda Avenue and I was pleased that Bonnie approved of my selection. Many friends from the ward had filled our little kitchen with groceries and even put two quarts of milk in the icebox. Bonnie and I were so hot and thirsty that we sat down and each drank a whole quart of ice-cold milk. Milk came in cardboard containers at that time, but even that “funny” taste did not detract from our enjoying our delightful treat
.
We soon fell into a routine of my going off to UCLA in the morning while Bonnie did the shopping and domestic chores. We attended the Westwood Ward and were impressed with some of the LDS movie stars like Rhonda Fleming, Terry Moore and Loraine Day. We saw other movie stars everywhere: grocery stores, department stores, the license bureau and even in restaurants. There were several couples our age and we soon had a nice group of friends. I was on the ward basketball team along with three former BYU college players. We were really good, and easily won the Church championship in Southern California. Bonnie thought she had married a basketball player rather than an Air Force officer.
A change in our routine soon became obvious. When I left for school, Bonnie was in the bathroom, “tossing her cookies,” as we used to say. And when I returned home late in the afternoon, she was still sitting on the bathroom floor, tossing even more cookies. I wondered if she had been in there all day.
This was a time when pregnancy tests involved live rabbits and frogs and a great deal of time and expense. But, suspecting she might be pregnant, Bonnie made an appointment with Dr. Jones, also a member of our ward. He assured us that Bonnie’s medical condition was normal and would last only nine months. Bonnie certainly was pregnant. She was happy and relieved to know she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life in the bathroom. I was shocked, but very pleased. Before long, both Bonnie and I were reading every book we could find on how to take care of a baby. We shouldn’t have worried. We had two special “Aces in the hole.” Our two mothers were delighted that they would soon be grandmothers and were already packing their suitcases to come when needed.
In June, I completed the meteorology course at UCLA and the Air Force assigned me to the White Sands Atomic Proving Grounds near Las Cruces, New Mexico. We were sad to leave California and our many new friends, but excited to be close to Albuquerque and Bonnie’s parents.
While I began working with the weather and atmospheric conditions relating to exploding atomic bombs, Bonnie proceeded on with her pregnancy. Her mother, Anna, came and stayed at frequent intervals and helped out like the Relief Society President she was. I especially looked forward to her visits since she was a great cook. I never understood all the mother-in-law jokes since mine was such a great one.
Bonnie’s pregnancy was complicated by a breech presentation and the Air Force doctors at the base preferred she see a specialist in Las Cruces. On November 15, 1954, Debbie was born, without complications. Bonnie was a great patient, dealing with all sorts of discomfort and minor problems without complaint. Gramma Anna and I were proud of her and thrilled when we were allowed to see baby Debbie in the nursery.
This would be a pattern of Bonnie’s life in being able to deal with difficult situations with little or no complaint and a great deal of courage. She did this with the birth of all six of our children.
She especially showed even more courage and faith on one fateful Sunday in November of 1955. We had our usual Sunday dinner with Floyd and Anna and then returned to our little home in Albuquerque. I had recently been transferred to Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, still working with exploding atomic bombs, but with new ones that were being dropped from airplanes over the Nevada desert.
On that Sunday afternoon, Anna was to speak at a Branch Conference in Grants, New Mexico, a few miles west of Albuquerque. She was District Relief Society President. Floyd was not scheduled to speak, but wanted to drive Anna to the meeting. As Floyd drove up over a small hill, a car was stopped in his lane of traffic and a big truck was coming down the other lane of the two lane blacktop. Floyd hit the brakes on his 1954 Buick and inadvertently skidded into the path of the oncoming truck. Floyd and Anna were killed. The truck driver survived the crash and remembered an apparently inebriated Indian male get in his parked car and drive away from the accident he had caused.
It was about 7 in the evening when I received a phone call from Bonnie’s uncle Mohler, Fern’s husband. “Floyd and Anna have been killed in an automobile crash near Grants,” he said. “You need to tell Bonnie.”
How could I tell Bonnie? How do you ever deliver that kind of news? She was also about seven months pregnant with Rick and I had heard stories of such a shock causing premature labor. I don’t know how I managed to walk into the next room and tell my dear wife that terrible news. But I did, and Bonnie, shocked and bewildered, showed courage and calmness far beyond expectations. I’m sure she called upon every ounce of faith and understanding of the Gospel she possessed. She also was concerned about her unborn child.
We managed to get through those next terrible days. Bonnie remained strong and courageous. No only did she have to deal with the loss of her parents and another child on the way, she was also appointed to be the executor of her parent’s estate. Neither left a will, and Bonnie was involved with legal problems for months.
Rick was born in the base hospital in Albuquerque without incident, and Nancy was born in the same hospital 14 months later. It was then time for us to leave New Mexico and head for medical school in Salt Lake City.
While I was busy with medical school, Bonnie was busy raising four children since Randy joined us in May 1958. Not only did Bonnie take care of our children, she took care of other medical school couples children, as well. They paid her, of course, and this income helped our meager budget. We had the GI bill and I worked in the pathology lab to also help out.
Bonnie was president of the medical wives club and became very close to the club advisor, Mrs. Phillip Price, wife of the Dean of the Medical School. Mrs Price loved Bonnie and sent her Christmas cards for years even after graduation. Bonnie was also active in ward relief society functions and took her children to primary and Sunday School, usually without my help. Amazing Bonnie was obviously the strong backbone of our family. When Nancy slammed Randy’s finger in the closet door, Bonnie had to deal with the near amputation. When Randy and Nancy decided to have some caustic “Drano” for lunch, Bonnie had to deal with it. I showed up later to help with the casualties, but it was Bonnie who had to sort things out at first.
When I interned at the Dee Hospital in Ogden, Bonnie again became involved with Wive’s Clubs and functions. She also made sure our children attended church meetings and leaned to read long before they entered school. Everywhere we went, I was judged adequate and Bonnie greatly praised. Even when I won an award for outstanding intern, everyone knew it was because of Bonnie’s motivation.
We hadn’t been in Ogden long before Bonnie went into labor with Robb. Without realizing it, the cancellation of Debbie’s birthday party that day did not set well with the birthday girl. It was years before we convinced Debbie that we didn’t “order” Robb deliberately on her birthday.
From internship we moved to Gridley, and it was not long before the entire community came to know and love Bonnie. She was always able to help at charity events, hospital and church functions. She held many positions in the Church, but always her favorite callings were in Relief Society. She had a “green thumb” like her mother, and our back yard was like one would imagine the Garden of Eden.
She also had a way of dealing with the children. One day, when I was at the hospital, all six of our pride and joy decided to have a food fight. Bonnie was not happy. Bonnie didn’t know what to do. But, being the gentle soul she is, none of the children felt her wrath. She simply went into the bathroom, closed the door and screamed into a towel. The result was so beneficial Bonnie was able to use the same technique on several other future occasions.
Umpires and referees were not immune from Bonnie’s wrath, however. Especially when they were officiating at one of her son’s games. There was one time when a football official made a call that Bonnie objected to, and she chased him at halftime with her umbrella. During basketball games, I decided to move away from my dear wife and let her and the other mothers holler at the referees all by themselves. In fact, all the fathers moved away from their wives on these occasions. We even came to feel sorry for the referees
From California we moved to Utah and then eventually to Atlanta, Georgia. Despite all that was asked of her, Bonnie did her duty with enthusiasm and dedication. She never complained, even when expected to. She was the true spiritual leader of our family and always fulfilled her church callings to the utmost of her ability.
In May of 1993 Bonnie had a severe stroke. It was due to medical malpractice, but never proved. As she lay in a coma, she received a Priesthood Blessing from her sons and me. Rick was the one giving the blessing but the power from Randy and Robb was also felt my me in a special way. Bonnie was in intensive care for almost a month, and in a rehabilitation hospital for three months. What courage she showed as she literally had to learn to speak again, walk again, and learn to do everything with her undamaged left side.
When it was time to take her home, I bought a new Ford sedan with leather seats so she could slide in and out easily. As we helped her into the car for the first time, I had the tape system playing Rod Stewart’s Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?. I thought it romantic, but Bonnie hated it all because it reminded her as to how far she had to go in order to lead a “normal life.” I soon sold the car, but Bonnie’s rehabilitation took months. Having to need assistance for showers, bathroom functions, and feeding was a strain on her physically. But she never gave in or felt sorry for herself. She took every day as a challenge. Nancy was of great help in assisting Bonnie in relearning speech and handwriting. She and Dale paid for much of the therapy since we had long since passed our insurance maximun.
Within a year, Bonnie took driving lessons and passed with flying colors. Soon she was driving her own car and going to the hair dresser once a week. That really gave Bonnie a big psychological boost. As all husbands come to know, if “Momma” can have her hair done, it is going to be a good day.
Wherever we have gone, people have come to know and love Bonnie. She is a people person and a great wife for a medical doctor.. She was a great mother and helped as much as possible with grandchildren as they came along.
By all standards and measurements, Bonnie is one of our Father-in-Heaven’s choice daughters. How blessed I am to have been her earthly and eternal companion. How blessed our children were to have her guide them through their early years on earth. How blessed all of our extended family have been to know my Bonita. She has a sweet spirit and knows her Father-in-Heaven loves her. Although she continues to face problems every day as a result of that stroke, she moves onward and undaunted. She loves genealogy and Relief Society. She loves the scriptures and is grateful for her family and her membership in the Church.
She continues to be a devoted and loyal wife, a great mother, a super mother-in-law, a grandmother and a great-grandmother. There is no doubt she will inherit all of the blessings we have all been promised by living lives as the Savior has told us. Can the rest of us follow her great example or even a part of it? Can we think of any blessing greater than being with Bonita for all time and eternity?
Bonita is a dear one. She is a pretty one. She is cute and special. She loves her Savior, her family, and Christmas.
May we all learn from her example and be as worthy as she as we make our way though this earthly existence.
Written with love and admiration from her husband and sweetheart on Bonnie’s 78th birthday.
The strange thing is, I don’t recall when or why I began calling her Bonita. It, of course, means “ little pretty one” in Spanish. Apparently the fact she was pretty and lived in New Mexico when we first met had something to do with this term of endearment. But I didn’t actually call her Bonita until long after we were married. Go figure? It just happened, that’s all I know.
It is also distressing to me that I can’t remember when I actually met Bonnie, or Bonita. Many times we fail to remember important events in our lives. I don’t remember learning when or how I learned to ride a bicycle, but I did. I don’t remember exactly when and how I learned to drive an automobile, but I did. It does seem strange, though, that I would not recall when I met the most important person in my life.
The place where I first met Bonnie, I do remember. It was at BYU, in the fall of 1951. Her brother, Reed, claims to be the one who really introduced us. While I was immediately impressed by this vivacious young woman, she had serious doubts about me. The only time she had seen me before was when my friend, Keith West, and I galloped into the Smith Field House on two white horses. We were a preliminary event to our ‘Val Hyric’ social unit assembly and wanted to get everyone‘s attention. Social Units were the BYU version of Sororities and Fraternities and each one put on an hour assembly for the rest of the student body sometime during the year. Most of these assemblies were silly skits, but Bonnie had never seen anything so dumb as watching those two “cowboys” from Rock Springs, Wyoming, gallop twice around the dirt track circumscribing the basketball floor. The assemblies were held on the basketball floor, and great care was taken not to mar the finish. The dust stirred up by the horses settled over the new floor, as well as most of the students in attendance. Bonnie, like most of the other students, was not impressed.
But, by some miracle I convinced Bonnie to go on a “date.” It wasn’t much of a date, as dates usually go, but she agreed to go on a group date at Vivian Park where we played softball. When the game broke up, Bonnie and I decided to play tennis with another couple. We soon tired of chasing after badly hit tennis balls and decided to go to a baseball game. The BYU baseball team was playing Utah State and we spent the rest of the afternoon watching the game and getting to know each other. Bonnie still thought I was some kind of weird cowboy, but she was at least tolerant.
Bonnie was always very popular on campus. She was involved with all sorts of activities and was first attendant to the Snow Queen at the Winter Carnival four consecutive years---a record that still stands today.
By the time we were seniors, we had dated on and off many times. Each time that I thought I had a chance to get Bonnie to “go steady,” something else came up---usually some other fellow. She dated the likes of Dallin Oaks, Loren Dunn and a bunch of other fellows I prefer not to remember.
I also had dated other girls, but only one with any serious intent. She became very ill and died within two months of my dating her. While visiting her at the LDS hospital in Salt Lake one day, Elder Matthew Cowley of the Quorum of the Twelve came to give her a blessing. He asked me to assist. He had a well known record of giving miraculous blessings and I felt sure her life would be spared. When she passed away, I wrote Elder Cowley regarding my disappointment in his blessing, so to speak. He wrote back a personal and most eloquent letter that I should have kept. In fact I did keep it for a long time, since it gave me such a good feeling to have more understanding of Priesthood Blessings. It must have been misplaced over the years.
During this senior year, I was elected vice-president of the Associated Men Students, and Bonnie and I were both elected Senior Class representatives on the Student Council. This was very fortunate for me, for it brought us together to work on various projects. I was also able to escort her several times to President Wilkinson’s home. He loved to entertain the student leaders, and we enjoyed many Sunday evening social events amidst distinguished guests that often included members of the faculty and Church leaders.
Bonnie and I began to get a little more serious in our relationship. In fact, she had many of her friends “stack” the voting boxes and I was elected on of the Ten Preferred Men on Campus that year. I think Bonnie used the old Chicago voting method by telling her friends to vote early and vote often.
On one occasion, I thought to improve my status in Bonnie’s eyes by asking her over to my place of residence for a home cooked dinner. Several of us male students rented cabins at the Riverside Lodge, located then along the Provo River close to the main highway into Orem from the Provo Hospital. We had a stove, frig and well stocked pantry. I chose to make a cherry pie, her favorite, to especially impress Bonnie. Having no experience in making pie crusts, I just mixed flour with lard as I had seen my mother do. I paid little attention to the proportions, apparently, and although the pie looked great to me, it almost made Bonnie physically ill. The rest of meal must have been good enough for her to choke down, but it took her several months before she could eat a normal cherry pie again. It also took and several hours before she decided I wasn’t really as incompetent as I seemed.
However, as we graduated in June, our relationship was definitely serious and we spoke of marriage.. There were problems that had to be dealt with. I was being commissioned to go directly into the Air Force and Bonnie needed to find a job. She had been accepted for a special school in Denver where she would be trained as a flight attendant for Frontier Air Lines. Marriage, it seemed, was not logical or practical at this time.
By Thanksgiving, Bonnie was settled in her job, and the Air Force had sent me to UCLA to study meteorology for a year. As a 2nd Lt. in the Air Force, I was making more money than I dreamed possible: $350 every month. Bonnie was also finding that being a flight attendant on DC 3 airplane that bounced all over the turbulent skies of the Rocky Mountains was not much fun. It appeared that being apart did make our hearts grow fonder.
On Thanksgiving Day of 1953, we became engaged. We left dinner at her sister’s home in Provo and began the drive to Bonnie’s apartment in Salt Lake. As I turned the radio on, we heard a strange announcement. The announcer said there had been a tragic airplane crash at the airport in Paris, France. The USAF plane did a cartwheel while landing, killing all crew members. The next morning I learned that my closest cousin, Grant Almond, of Downey, Idaho, was one of those killed. It set a somber tone for our engagement. Grant and I had spent our summers together, working on his dad’s farm in Downey. He was my age, just 23.
As I departed for UCLA, we decided to get married at the semester break, with February 1st as our target date. We were able to reserve a time at the Salt Lake Temple and Bonnie’s uncle, Apostle Delbert Stapley of the Quorum of the Twelve said he would marry us. Bonnie took care of all the arrangements. All I had to do was show up.
When I did show up, it was at an inopportune moment. I came into the Dangerfield home in Provo and said hello to Bonnie‘s sister, Carol. I then started for the kitchen, and as I approached the door, I heard Bonnie confiding to her Mother. “I’m not even sure I love him,” she was sobbing. I stood somewhat transfixed as I heard Bonnie’s Mom calm her by explaining “cold feet” and pre-wedding jitters. I was grateful for her support of me, and decided not to make myself known till much later that night.
By morning, Bonnie’s jitters had vanished, or rather, transferred to me. In those days we went to the county court house to get our marriage license before going to the Temple. I was so nervous, I could barely sign the document, and on our way out of the courthouse the license flew out of my hand in a gust of wind and fell right into a mud puddle. I quickly retrieved the document and wiped it clean before any significant damage occurred.
Everything moved at a whirlwind pace after that. We were married, had a wedding breakfast at Little America and went to Provo for the first of our two receptions. In Provo we would greet most of our college friends and members of my family. The next day we started for our second reception in Albuquerque for Bonnie’s family. We were on a tight schedule and had to be back at UCLA within a week.
Before leaving Provo, my Dad took me aside and gave me $100 in cash. I was overcome. Dad never made much money, and I am sure there were very few times when he and Mom ever had that much money at one time in their entire lives. The money was a life saver and I never forgot my parent’s kindness at that time.
I forgot to tell Bonnie about the money my parents had given us. It was a very hectic time and we left right away for New Mexico. By the time we reached Moab, we were both famished and decided to stop and get something to eat. Using the rule that truck drivers stop at the best cafes, we parked our tired Pontiac next to a huge truck, dashed into the café and went directly to the restrooms. Bonnie accomplished her “mission” first and was seated at a table by the waitress. Thinking we were still on a very tight budget, she ordered a small bowl of soup. I then returned from the restroom, sat down and immediately ordered a T-bone steak without even looking at the menu. I didn’t know it at the time, but that steak just about cooked my goose. Bonnie didn’t get mad and throw the soup in my face. She didn’t hit me either, although she probably wanted to. She just looked at me, mouth open, in disbelief. She loved steak, I was informed in crisp, one syllable words. And even though she was famished, there was no point in ordering a steak for her now. The die was cast. I was a selfish brute. I was to receive the silent treatment for the next six hours.
I gulped down the steak and was happy to reach the car without bodily injury. I was even happier when we reached the Davis home in Albuquerque where I hoped a truce would be declared. I was rapidly learning the delicate art of marital communication.
Our stay in Albuquerque would only be for two days and one night---the night of our reception. We also decided to stay with Bonnie’s parents. They had flown from Salt Lake on Frontier Airlines and arrived well ahead of us.
Bonnie‘s mother, Anna, greeted us warmly with big hugs at the front door. Seeing that I was loaded down and juggling three suitcases, Anna told me to put our things in Bonnie‘s bedroom. I was glad to know what to do with my heavy load, but hesitated when I saw Bonnie take a step backward.
“In my bedroom,” Bonnie asked incredulously? She was still a little miffed about the T-bone steak, and when her own mother assigned us to sleep in her old room, Bonnie turned quite pale.
“Maybe Claude could sleep in Reed’s room,” she pleaded. Reed was on his mission, and Honeymoon or not, there were just some things parents weren’t supposed to think about, let alone be a party to. “My bed is too small,” she replied in her best Goldilocks’ manner. And Claude would like Reed’s room---there’s more boy stuff.” Bonnie was definitely uncomfortable about the proposed sleeping arrangements, and I was obviously still in the dog-house over that darned steak.
My new Mother-in-law understood Bonnie’s dilemma immediately and burst out laughing. She put her arms around her daughter and reminded her she was legally and lawfully married and her old room could now be properly shared with her husband.
Bonnie began to weaken, but did not join in with her mother’s laughter. Neither did I. I remained silent on the matter, realizing I was already treading on thin ice, to say the least. The idea of sanctuary in Reed’s room began to sound more and more like a good idea---at least till the storm clouds passed.
Things soon settled down, however, and rest of the day, including the reception, went well. After brushing my teeth in the bathroom down the hall, I quietly tip-toed into Bonnie’s bedroom and laid down on the outer six inches of available space. I tried to breathe just as quietly as possible. Bonnie was tired and fast asleep. I soon fell asleep as well, but thought at any minute I might find myself sleeping on the floor as a final payment for the “incident in Moab.“
The next morning all seemed back to normal. We checked the wedding presents and packed them into our small two-door Pontiac and departed for Los Angeles. It was February, and the Arizona desert presented no special problems. We stopped the next night in in small town of Mesa, and stayed with Bonnie’s Aunt Mae. Mesa was beautiful at that time of year and Bonnie and I were finally able to relax. When Aunt Mae asked what we wanted for dinner, I laughingly suggested T-bone steaks. Bonnie said I should have chicken noodle soup. Aunt Mae thought barbequed steaks sounded better. It was a memorable evening. Along with Aunt Mae, Bonnie and I ate our first meal together in peace and harmony. The scent of orange blossoms filled the night air. The days of time-tables, stress and strain were well behind us and we felt very secure and comfortable. I, at least, finally felt really married. Bonnie was not going to ask for a refund.
The next day found us on our last leg of our journey. Just before we entered Los Angeles, Bonnie fell asleep in the passenger seat, and when she awoke, we were speeding down a busy California freeway. Having never seen such a sight, Bonnie almost leaped from the car in fright as she saw dozens of cars and trucks whizzing by in two directions across six lanes with vehicles dashing on and off freeway ramps. Her introduction to L.A. was indeed memorable.
We arrived at our little apartment on Sepulveda Avenue and I was pleased that Bonnie approved of my selection. Many friends from the ward had filled our little kitchen with groceries and even put two quarts of milk in the icebox. Bonnie and I were so hot and thirsty that we sat down and each drank a whole quart of ice-cold milk. Milk came in cardboard containers at that time, but even that “funny” taste did not detract from our enjoying our delightful treat
.
We soon fell into a routine of my going off to UCLA in the morning while Bonnie did the shopping and domestic chores. We attended the Westwood Ward and were impressed with some of the LDS movie stars like Rhonda Fleming, Terry Moore and Loraine Day. We saw other movie stars everywhere: grocery stores, department stores, the license bureau and even in restaurants. There were several couples our age and we soon had a nice group of friends. I was on the ward basketball team along with three former BYU college players. We were really good, and easily won the Church championship in Southern California. Bonnie thought she had married a basketball player rather than an Air Force officer.
A change in our routine soon became obvious. When I left for school, Bonnie was in the bathroom, “tossing her cookies,” as we used to say. And when I returned home late in the afternoon, she was still sitting on the bathroom floor, tossing even more cookies. I wondered if she had been in there all day.
This was a time when pregnancy tests involved live rabbits and frogs and a great deal of time and expense. But, suspecting she might be pregnant, Bonnie made an appointment with Dr. Jones, also a member of our ward. He assured us that Bonnie’s medical condition was normal and would last only nine months. Bonnie certainly was pregnant. She was happy and relieved to know she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life in the bathroom. I was shocked, but very pleased. Before long, both Bonnie and I were reading every book we could find on how to take care of a baby. We shouldn’t have worried. We had two special “Aces in the hole.” Our two mothers were delighted that they would soon be grandmothers and were already packing their suitcases to come when needed.
In June, I completed the meteorology course at UCLA and the Air Force assigned me to the White Sands Atomic Proving Grounds near Las Cruces, New Mexico. We were sad to leave California and our many new friends, but excited to be close to Albuquerque and Bonnie’s parents.
While I began working with the weather and atmospheric conditions relating to exploding atomic bombs, Bonnie proceeded on with her pregnancy. Her mother, Anna, came and stayed at frequent intervals and helped out like the Relief Society President she was. I especially looked forward to her visits since she was a great cook. I never understood all the mother-in-law jokes since mine was such a great one.
Bonnie’s pregnancy was complicated by a breech presentation and the Air Force doctors at the base preferred she see a specialist in Las Cruces. On November 15, 1954, Debbie was born, without complications. Bonnie was a great patient, dealing with all sorts of discomfort and minor problems without complaint. Gramma Anna and I were proud of her and thrilled when we were allowed to see baby Debbie in the nursery.
This would be a pattern of Bonnie’s life in being able to deal with difficult situations with little or no complaint and a great deal of courage. She did this with the birth of all six of our children.
She especially showed even more courage and faith on one fateful Sunday in November of 1955. We had our usual Sunday dinner with Floyd and Anna and then returned to our little home in Albuquerque. I had recently been transferred to Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, still working with exploding atomic bombs, but with new ones that were being dropped from airplanes over the Nevada desert.
On that Sunday afternoon, Anna was to speak at a Branch Conference in Grants, New Mexico, a few miles west of Albuquerque. She was District Relief Society President. Floyd was not scheduled to speak, but wanted to drive Anna to the meeting. As Floyd drove up over a small hill, a car was stopped in his lane of traffic and a big truck was coming down the other lane of the two lane blacktop. Floyd hit the brakes on his 1954 Buick and inadvertently skidded into the path of the oncoming truck. Floyd and Anna were killed. The truck driver survived the crash and remembered an apparently inebriated Indian male get in his parked car and drive away from the accident he had caused.
It was about 7 in the evening when I received a phone call from Bonnie’s uncle Mohler, Fern’s husband. “Floyd and Anna have been killed in an automobile crash near Grants,” he said. “You need to tell Bonnie.”
How could I tell Bonnie? How do you ever deliver that kind of news? She was also about seven months pregnant with Rick and I had heard stories of such a shock causing premature labor. I don’t know how I managed to walk into the next room and tell my dear wife that terrible news. But I did, and Bonnie, shocked and bewildered, showed courage and calmness far beyond expectations. I’m sure she called upon every ounce of faith and understanding of the Gospel she possessed. She also was concerned about her unborn child.
We managed to get through those next terrible days. Bonnie remained strong and courageous. No only did she have to deal with the loss of her parents and another child on the way, she was also appointed to be the executor of her parent’s estate. Neither left a will, and Bonnie was involved with legal problems for months.
Rick was born in the base hospital in Albuquerque without incident, and Nancy was born in the same hospital 14 months later. It was then time for us to leave New Mexico and head for medical school in Salt Lake City.
While I was busy with medical school, Bonnie was busy raising four children since Randy joined us in May 1958. Not only did Bonnie take care of our children, she took care of other medical school couples children, as well. They paid her, of course, and this income helped our meager budget. We had the GI bill and I worked in the pathology lab to also help out.
Bonnie was president of the medical wives club and became very close to the club advisor, Mrs. Phillip Price, wife of the Dean of the Medical School. Mrs Price loved Bonnie and sent her Christmas cards for years even after graduation. Bonnie was also active in ward relief society functions and took her children to primary and Sunday School, usually without my help. Amazing Bonnie was obviously the strong backbone of our family. When Nancy slammed Randy’s finger in the closet door, Bonnie had to deal with the near amputation. When Randy and Nancy decided to have some caustic “Drano” for lunch, Bonnie had to deal with it. I showed up later to help with the casualties, but it was Bonnie who had to sort things out at first.
When I interned at the Dee Hospital in Ogden, Bonnie again became involved with Wive’s Clubs and functions. She also made sure our children attended church meetings and leaned to read long before they entered school. Everywhere we went, I was judged adequate and Bonnie greatly praised. Even when I won an award for outstanding intern, everyone knew it was because of Bonnie’s motivation.
We hadn’t been in Ogden long before Bonnie went into labor with Robb. Without realizing it, the cancellation of Debbie’s birthday party that day did not set well with the birthday girl. It was years before we convinced Debbie that we didn’t “order” Robb deliberately on her birthday.
From internship we moved to Gridley, and it was not long before the entire community came to know and love Bonnie. She was always able to help at charity events, hospital and church functions. She held many positions in the Church, but always her favorite callings were in Relief Society. She had a “green thumb” like her mother, and our back yard was like one would imagine the Garden of Eden.
She also had a way of dealing with the children. One day, when I was at the hospital, all six of our pride and joy decided to have a food fight. Bonnie was not happy. Bonnie didn’t know what to do. But, being the gentle soul she is, none of the children felt her wrath. She simply went into the bathroom, closed the door and screamed into a towel. The result was so beneficial Bonnie was able to use the same technique on several other future occasions.
Umpires and referees were not immune from Bonnie’s wrath, however. Especially when they were officiating at one of her son’s games. There was one time when a football official made a call that Bonnie objected to, and she chased him at halftime with her umbrella. During basketball games, I decided to move away from my dear wife and let her and the other mothers holler at the referees all by themselves. In fact, all the fathers moved away from their wives on these occasions. We even came to feel sorry for the referees
From California we moved to Utah and then eventually to Atlanta, Georgia. Despite all that was asked of her, Bonnie did her duty with enthusiasm and dedication. She never complained, even when expected to. She was the true spiritual leader of our family and always fulfilled her church callings to the utmost of her ability.
In May of 1993 Bonnie had a severe stroke. It was due to medical malpractice, but never proved. As she lay in a coma, she received a Priesthood Blessing from her sons and me. Rick was the one giving the blessing but the power from Randy and Robb was also felt my me in a special way. Bonnie was in intensive care for almost a month, and in a rehabilitation hospital for three months. What courage she showed as she literally had to learn to speak again, walk again, and learn to do everything with her undamaged left side.
When it was time to take her home, I bought a new Ford sedan with leather seats so she could slide in and out easily. As we helped her into the car for the first time, I had the tape system playing Rod Stewart’s Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?. I thought it romantic, but Bonnie hated it all because it reminded her as to how far she had to go in order to lead a “normal life.” I soon sold the car, but Bonnie’s rehabilitation took months. Having to need assistance for showers, bathroom functions, and feeding was a strain on her physically. But she never gave in or felt sorry for herself. She took every day as a challenge. Nancy was of great help in assisting Bonnie in relearning speech and handwriting. She and Dale paid for much of the therapy since we had long since passed our insurance maximun.
Within a year, Bonnie took driving lessons and passed with flying colors. Soon she was driving her own car and going to the hair dresser once a week. That really gave Bonnie a big psychological boost. As all husbands come to know, if “Momma” can have her hair done, it is going to be a good day.
Wherever we have gone, people have come to know and love Bonnie. She is a people person and a great wife for a medical doctor.. She was a great mother and helped as much as possible with grandchildren as they came along.
By all standards and measurements, Bonnie is one of our Father-in-Heaven’s choice daughters. How blessed I am to have been her earthly and eternal companion. How blessed our children were to have her guide them through their early years on earth. How blessed all of our extended family have been to know my Bonita. She has a sweet spirit and knows her Father-in-Heaven loves her. Although she continues to face problems every day as a result of that stroke, she moves onward and undaunted. She loves genealogy and Relief Society. She loves the scriptures and is grateful for her family and her membership in the Church.
She continues to be a devoted and loyal wife, a great mother, a super mother-in-law, a grandmother and a great-grandmother. There is no doubt she will inherit all of the blessings we have all been promised by living lives as the Savior has told us. Can the rest of us follow her great example or even a part of it? Can we think of any blessing greater than being with Bonita for all time and eternity?
Bonita is a dear one. She is a pretty one. She is cute and special. She loves her Savior, her family, and Christmas.
May we all learn from her example and be as worthy as she as we make our way though this earthly existence.
Written with love and admiration from her husband and sweetheart on Bonnie’s 78th birthday.