Jonny

Jonny was born on the 18th of December, the same day that President Joseph Fielding Smith died.  I was at a youth Christmas dance at the 22nd Ward building when the announcement was made.  I was about 15 or 16 years old.  I am least acquainted with Jonny out of all my siblings.
   He was about three years old when I went on my mission, just barely able to call me a missionary.  I wasn't spending many waking hours at home during those years.  I was busy with school, work, and basic teenagering.  (If adulting can be a term then so can that.)  Anyway, Jonny was still toddlering when I left for Finland.
  Jonny had a bit of a difficulty pronouncing his r's as a young boy, so Mother had him learn a little song.  "Choo choo, the big train is coming down the track now.  Stop, look, and listen.  Stop, look, and listen."  He pronounced it mostly with w's in place of the r's.  "The big twain is coming down the twack now."
   When I returned home from Finland I also spent very little time at home, so I missed out on much of Jonny's childhood.  The little burro I had brought home from the Grand Canyon before my mission was the family pet.  My father build a pony cart that Jenny would pull around the neighborhood.  This was great for Jonny and Lucy.  Howard also loved the little donkey.  At some point boys in the neighborhood, perhaps out of envy, began teasing the kids and the donkey until she nipped at one of them.  Dad was not willing to risk a law suit and decided that the donkey would have to go.  Howard's heart was completely broken.
   Jonny was a typical youngest child.  Spoiled a little.  But also he developed some annoying ways that his older siblings went out of their way to correct.  I never felt good about that.
   So, I got involved in college and marrying your mother and starting our family and so had even less to do with Jonny.  And shortly after we started our family my parents moved to Missouri and took my younger siblings along.  I lost complete contact with Jonny at this point.
   Jonny served his mission in Colombia.  When Jonny was born he had very dark hair and dark eyes. (It's supposed to be impossible for a son of blue eyed parents to have dark eyes, but Jonny did--proving that genetics alone do not determine who we are.)  Anyway, my father was teaching in BYU's Lamanite program--designed to help Native American students gain what they needed to succeed in the university.  He was inspired to say that Jonny would be a missionary to the Lamanites and named him Jonathan Ammon after the Book of Mormon son of Mosiah who converted Lamoni.
   Jonny has never had much positive to say about his mission, not that positive things didn't happen, but when he has spoken with me it has been about things like terribly awful things cooked on a grill, little children in the church who had American fathers (previous missionaries).  Jonny picked up an ameba while on his mission--a little microscopic organism that lives in the gut and wreck havoc on one's health.  Anyway, I'm sure that there were positive points on Jonny's mission, and he's never spoken of it in a way that would indicate he was sorry to have served.
   I remember Jonny's wedding to Clara.  This was dad's last child to marry off, so while we had a luncheon at The Olive Garden, Dad went on, and on, and on telling the jokes and stories that all of us (with the exception of Clara's family) had heard a thousand times.  It's as if Dad sensed that this would be his last chance to monopolize a wedding luncheon and he was loath to be done with it.  Hahaha.
   Jonny has certified as an educator and is doing a great job as a high school Spanish teacher.  He and Sam have a very close relationship and spend considerable time sharing their craft.  As an avocation Jonny has started forging knives out of discarded pieces of steel.  He often posts he projects on Facebook.  These are amazing products that sell at very high price.