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- [S14] 1860 U S Federal Census.
oseph Biggs Watterson born Tuesday Febrary 2 at 5:00 am in 1927. At 635 North 2nd East Logan Utah. He weighted 8 1/2 lbs. Blessed Sunday March 6th 1927 by his father . Joseph Biggs Watterson passed away June 24, 1992
Joe B. Watterson very ill.
1992 as best remembered since I lost my hard-drive- The major things that happened were the weddings of my two daughters and the deaths of Aunt Ardella and dad Watterson…Thursday June 18th 1992-Vicki and I got a call from mom that she rushed dad to the hospital this morning. We took enough time to call the brothers and sisters and then headed for LDS Hospital. When we got there, he’d been admitted and was just being put into bed. He had an oxygen mask on and a suction tube was removing flem. He was in great pain and couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position to lie in. His lungs were unable to supply much oxygen to the blood and his very movement was depleting what oxygen was in the blood. So, the doctors felt it necessary to put him into an induced comma to save air.
Joe Biggs Wattersons Funeral June 24th 1992
Joe Biggs Watterson was a mountain of a man. He was a carpenter and millwright by trade. He was a field foreman for the Brunswick Bowling Company for many years and retired from them just three years ago. He was 65 this year. As he lay in the hospital fighting for his life and I was bleu to see him there day after day, I came to appreciate why he could lift huge loads. His chest was enormous as were his shoulders, and his arms were large from shoulder to wrist. His was a body that had labored hard for fifty years. He was fond of John Wayne the movie star. He and the character Wayne usually depicted were very much the same. They were men’s men. Dad always said what he thought. He didn’t have trouble seeing the difference between black and white. He didn’t have any use for someone who would abuse a woman. And he’d always tell the truth as best he could see it. John could drive cattle from sun up till sun down. Dad could drive nails, cut, saw and put things together until the last piece was in plac,e be it long after dark. Dad worked the men under him hard. But never harder that he worked himself. Years ago Brunswick felt their foreman should be supervisors and the hired carpenters should do the work. They advised all foremen to get slacks and nice shirts and direct the building of bowling alleys standing up. Mom felt good about this because Joe worked himself so hard. She got him spruced up and sent him off to the job. He came home with holes in the knees of his pants and a dirty shirt. Dad couldn’t supervise from a standing position. But he surely could from his knees. He didn’t like anyone working in a sitting position, even if that would have been just as good a way as kneeling for a few moments. He knew comfort had a way of slowing a job down. He told me not long ago when we were building h in his garage. “My first foeman told me, do it good but do it fast”. He looked at me with stern eyes and I got the message. His work ethic was part of the way he was raised. His mother and father, his sisters and brothers had that ethic. And it began first thing in the morning. You weren’t to sleep in because that was ‘ burning daylight’. His brother Mose related an episode. When Joe was about eigh,t a farmer was hiring hands to haul hay. Mose and Woodrow asked for the job but the farmer wouldn’t hire just two he wanted someone to drive the truck. So they grabbed little Joe and put him behind the wheel. With all his strength, Joe could hold the truck straight but when the end of the row was reached, Moss or Woodrow would have to jump into the seat and turn the truck around. Dad taught his sons and daughters the same ethic. If you work with Kip or Cory you’d better be ready for sweat and pain. If you work with Vicki, Georgia, Cindy, Debbie or do aerobics with Kelly you’d better start an hour ahead because soon they’ll pass you like the roadrunner. Once Dad was working in Arizona. He was working the men at his usual pace. After a couple weeks of this one of the Mexican carpenters came up to him and said “Joe, you don’t have to pay me so much, but please don’t work me so hard”. His boys liked the idea of making the kind of money carpenters do when they were teens. Joe gave them a chance to do just that. But he sternly warned them. “You’ll make the money the same as the men, but you’d better produce every inch as much work or I’ll fire you as fast as I would them”. And he meant it. One thing that the family is very proud of are the three Five Star Awards Brunswick gave dad. Each is recognition of excellence as the top field foreman for the year. As Cory said, “when dad was at work, it was the most important thing in the world”.
There was another side to Dad also. If he worked hard at being an excellent worker, he worked just as hard at being an excellent father, brother, husband and friend. Years ago I learned a poem that seems to fit dad’s life:
Abu Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase, Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, making it rich and like a lily in bloom. An presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?” The vision raised it’s head and with a look of all sweet accord answered “ The names of those who love the Lord.” And is mine one? Asked Abu ”Nay not so” replied the angel. Abu spoke more low, but cheerily still and said “I pray thee then write me as one that loves his fellowmen: The angle wrote and vanished. The next night it came again with a great wakening light. And showed the names of those the LORD LOVED BEST. And Lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.
The poem doesn’t mean that Abu didn’t love the Lord but that his main concern was with his fellowmen. And dad was the same. Most important to dad was his family. In those summers when he took the children in the trailer to out of state jobs, he would ask for their opinion at trailer parks. “Is the swimming pool good enough to spend the summer in?” For them that’s where they’d be a lot of the time. He’d find fun things for them to do. If there were a rodeo or a fair, he’d get them there. Dad and mom got tickets for Cory and Debbie to the Monkies concert one year. And since Kelly was to young to go, they spend the night taking her out on the town. He’d put a child of grandchild on his knee and sing “Oh Mr. Johnny Gebeck how could you be so mean”. A favorite telephone call we all received often was from dad. “We’re getting together for a BBQ. Can you come?” The whole family would assemble: kids, grandkids, friends, uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents. Everybody felt good at uncle Joe’s. He’d open his arms and say, “Where’s my hug” And if one of the grandkids was to shy to give a hug, he’d scowl at them then laugh. If any of the girls was wearing a new outfit his remark was always "New material, must be felt.” Then he’d grab them and give an extra hug. He wasn’t shy and could embarrass his daughters by walking from the shower to his bedroom with just a towel wrapped around him. He’d say, "Close your eyes, fat man coming through". Sometimes their dates were sitting with them. He centered forming bonds with his boys and his sons in- laws around what he like best, hunting. According to the Utah fish and game the deer hunt started in October. According to Joe it officially started in April or as late as May. That’s when he’d start getting excited for the fall hunt. Cory, Kip, Wayne, Larry and Steve would gather around his recliner and reminisce about past hunts and begin planning the next one. The family came to know every tree, rock, bush and deer populating the west side of the Oquirrhs. The boys were always anxious to try a new spot. Dad, the field general would coordinate his hunting troops and then he’d pick the rock he’d sat at year after year. The hunt was always successful. And then came the next tradition, cutting and packing the deer. Just as for every other job, he had every possible tool himself. You didn’t need to bring anything but yourself. The hours of wrapping were filled with pranks, jokes, teasing and laughter. But you were in the doghouse if you wasted one tiny scrap of meat. You didn’t waste things around dad. Everything was organized and had its place. He was a teacher by example and everyone who was willing, learned. When Vicki started dating he’d put her on a chair before her date arrived. He’d have her bend over and look behind her. There was a mirror on the wall she could look in and he’d tell her “everything you can see others can see, so be modest in how you act and what your wear.” Joe Watterson didn’t leave his love at home. He was good natured and giving with others. It might be a neighbor widow who needed new kitchen cabinets. If he could find the material himself, they didn’t cost her. He’d work for hours or days tearing out and building new. His time and talents were shared as freely with nieces and nephews, brothers, sisters as with sons and daughters. Joe the house builder. Joe the barn builder. Joe the welder. Joe the problem solver. Joe the giver. Joe with the lap to sit on. Joe with the shoulder to cry on. Everyone will miss the scene of pulling into the driveway, looking into the open garage seeing dad pull up his welding mask and give a big warm smile. And say “Hi, I’m glad you’re here. I’m building a new gate for a corral and I need your help.” The girls will miss the big hugs and the arms around others who’ve gone before. And there are many mansions to build where he’s gone. And who says there are not corrals with gates to be welded. Joe Biggs Watterson may his tribe increase, Awake on night from a deep dream of peace, and saw within the moon light in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom. An angel writing a book of gold. Exceeding peace made Joe Biggs bold. And to the Presence in the room he said “What writest thou”? The vision raised it’s heard. And with a look made of all sweet accord Answered “The names of those who love the Lord” “and is mine one” said Joe. “ Nay not so” replied the angle. Joe spoke more low but cheerily still; and said, “I pray thee, then, write me as one that loves his fellow men” The angel wrote and vanished. The next night it came with a great wakening light, and showed the names the Lord loved best and lo! Joe Biggs Wattersons name led all the rest! Dad was buried at the Valley View Cemetery on 4100 S. in West Valley.
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