Born down in Mexico in nineteen ten on November eighth or seventh, I'm not sure when. Since the seventh was the birthday of uncle Nephi's wife, I've claimed the same date all my life. Down in the Colonies, it's easy to guess, clocks were something most did not posses. So, close to midnight as near as I could tell, I jumped down into this world to dwell. I'd had a small brother who had died recently, who had gone by the name of Stanley E. What the "E" stood for nobody knows, except those who named him as I must suppose. When still tiny, as I've heard say, war caused us to head for the good U.S.A. And down to Nevada at Kaolin town, near Aunt Doretta Bundy we settled down but sad for a baby only three, my mother passed away which meant woe for me. Aunt Grace, her sisters, took me into her care, down in Arizona on a dry farm there. That didn't last, and my grandparents then, took me to live with them, Aunt Ester, and Uncle Ben. I went to school some at Pomerene, and a small bit of learning did manage to glean. I recall one Christmas what I acquired was a bodyless doll head hardly what I desired. I also remember that at near five I did go with Aunt Grace and Uncle Parely into Old Mexico. When war grew rampant, warned that we'd better "roll". I remember burying food cans deep in a hole. Then with some wagons in very good order we set off speedily for the U.S.A. border. We passed as I remember the scene very plain, Pancho Villa's soldiers hoof marks in muddy lane. When we reached Douglas, Arizona, we stayed for a spell with some friends of my aunts where I first heard a lady tell the sory of Jack, the Giant Killer, which to my childish mind was really a diller! At another place, I remember again, a bullet had gone through a window pane. But at last we went to Benson, as I've already said, where we lived a while on a dry homestead. At last, Uncle Ben, Uncle Joe, Uncle Lee, headed for El Paso and Grandma took me. Grandpa's second wife, Aunt Pearlie Dean, died of the flue, and times were quite lean. Grandma carried for all of us, until Aunt Ester off in Monticello wrote she was marring [marrying?] a "certain" fellow. Then grandma left us and while away my Dad came back and took me to his dry farm to stay. Life's never easy for a motherless kid, But I hope no one else had it as bad as I did. Dirty rags to wear, scanty food to eat, and for every misdeed to get cussed at and beat. My grandma Iverson was there occasionaly, but she got cussed at too, if she stood up for me. At least I survived, but until I die I'll carry life's scars and will wonder "why?" Sent on a mission, not one whit preprared, I was still mighty timid and scared. Grandpa (my dad) thought that he could atone for all the crueleties in my childhood had known, so he furnished the money. Perhaps I misjudged and should forgive instead of bearing a grudge. All I can say is I hope that I may not reap great penalties for my errors so deep. But that, through repentence, as we're taught to believe, sweetest forgiveness we all may recieve.

In 1935 to fill a most empty life, I thought it time to become someone's wife. The decision wasn't wise, for as soon was made plain I wasn't through with life full of pain. Down on a farm in a too small place, there soon were children all over the place. Not enough money, no conviences surely is it a wonder I grew bitter as surely? I tried to raise the children the way they should go, though Primary and Sunday school was not possible to know. Tobacco and liquor was where the money went, and essentials all the rest was spent. Though the men worked hard from Saturday to Monday, I'd have not felt so bad had they rested on Sunday! Hy worked on the State road, and mighty hard too, and mostly backed me up in what I tried to do. But at last, health gone through Tobacco and wine, he went to his reward, and I partly got mine. The insurance money and the cattle sales and crops, though not large helped buy a good house in the town of St. George. By then the three oldest had married and gone, but Wayne and the small girls and I carried on. Grandpa Iverson lived here a year or two, but he was in his eighties and he soon went too.

Bruce went on a mission, having made up his own mind that the necessary money he somehow would find. Frances married Joe and Roma married Reed, mostly quite happy live each does lead. Bruce became a lawyer and soon married Sue, and I rejoice greatly that they seem happy too. Dale married Susan and Lyn, Kathleen. The older ones at Vegas live (or in between.) Because there are so many they often visit me, and I have a LOT of company. it's plain to see. With 14 grand children, and two more due, therewill be 16 in seventy two. I do a little writing of skits or verse. None of them are better and some are worse. Rosie is 18 and Jelle 16; both worked this summer with school in between. Wayn's to be a doctor and is in the Universtiy of Southern Nevada busy as he can be. My health is fairly good, though I am too fat. I eat when I shouldn't and that is that. I'm planing to get started doing temple work--something for long I've been inclined to shirk. this is September; the day is seven. I hope I see all you people in Heaven. But if we're spared and our destiny is starred, let's everyone of us really serve the Lord!

Nellie wrote a short history of each of her kids and grand kids on Nov. 10, 1971, updated Oct 1972 (found under each child.) The following is her comment at the end of History: "So there are 14 grand children, with two to go at present. (16, they arrived) May they each and all live the Gospel in its fulness, is prayer of their grandmother!