Thursday, March 01, 2018

Edward John Huber - Obituary

Edward John Huber, Jr., 88, passed away peacefully at his home in Magna, Utah on February 21, 2018.  He was born April 4, 1929 to Edward John and Ethel Meranda Huber in Salt Lake City, Utah.  He married Geraldine (Jerry) Eccles on March 19, 1951 in the Salt Lake City LDS Temple.  They proudly reared eight children in their Magna home of 60 plus years.  Jerry passed away, January 22, 2011.

As a youth, Ed was a member of Scout Troop 1, Wells District, where he achieved the rank of Eagle Scout.  In March 1946, he was one of the first scouts to register and participate in a six day trip down the Colorado River.  He graduated from South High School in 1947 and from the University of Utah in 1951 with a degree in Mechanical/Civil Engineering. He was a member of the University of Utah football team, 1947-1948.

He was drafted in 1951 during the Korean Conflict and stationed at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, army intelligence, Signal Corps of Engineering lab.  As a young engineer, Ed was part of the initial crew with W.W. Clyde that surveyed the area for the building of the Glen Canyon Dam. Ed was a successful businessman as owner/operator of Huber & Rowland Construction and Huber Construction.  He managed construction projects and developments throughout Salt Lake County and oversaw the construction of at least four LDS chapels in the Magna community.  Ed was a member of the local draft board during the Vietnam War and was a trained docent for the LDS Church History Museum.

Ed was a faithful member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  He served as Bishop of both the Lake Ridge 3rd and the Lake Ridge 4th Wards.  He was known to many as “Bishop Huber” for most of his life.  He held other positions in the church, most recently a Gospel Doctrine teacher.  He was a faithful home teacher and the doctrinal expert in the family.

Ed and Jerry were a team whether it was knocking down a wall in the house for a new addition, building a swimming pool in the backyard, taking their family on vacations, throwing parties, or buying Christmas gifts.  They taught their family the importance of faith, education, commitment, and rolling up their sleeves to do an honest day’s work. They dedicated their lives to serving their family, their church and community.

With a sharp mind, Ed was determined to live this life as long as he could.  Never was there a tougher man who beat the odds.  He diligently kept the memory of Jerry alive and his family close together.

He is survived by his eight children – Jackie (John) Sudbury, Judy (Karl) Petersen, Cindy (Evan) Wood, Chris (Jerry) Stoker, Geneil (Steve) Stapley, Dee (Liz) Huber, John (Lori) Huber, Ed (Jennifer) Huber – 25 grandchildren (their spouses) and 15 great grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his wife, parents, and brother Glen James Huber.  The Huber Family extends their deepest appreciation to Margaret Armstrong for her tender care and service to Ed since August 2017.

Funeral services will be held on Monday, February 26, 2018, 12:00 p.m. at the Lake Ridge LDS Chapel, 3151 South 7700 West, Magna, Utah.  A viewing will be held Sunday evening, February 25, 6:00 – 8:00 p.m., at Larkin Mortuary, 260 East South Temple, Salt Lake City, Utah and on Monday morning, 10:30 – 11:30 a.m. at the chapel prior the service. Interment at Wasatch Lawn Memorial Park.

(Grandpa's funeral was originally written by Haley, then edited by Judy and Cindy)

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Grandpa's Funeral

I am getting to the age, where weddings and funerals are becoming my reality.  That's when I see people, reconnect, and feel joy and sadness.  Over the weekend with my Grandpa's viewing and funeral, I saw so many great people who loved my grandparents and my extended family.

Sometimes, I think that the Huber family is all myth and legend.  But, no matter what, I am so proud to be the granddaughter of Ed and Jerry Huber.  Nothing is more important to me than keeping the memory and respect for all my grandparents alive.

Yesterday at the funeral, my brother played the piano.  It was a beautiful compilation of hymns he had put together himself.  It gave me goosebumps here on earth, as I'm sure it did to all those in heaven who were watching.

I loved my grandparents fiercely when they were alive.  I will continue to love them just as faithfully now that they are somewhere else, a little further away.






Wednesday, February 21, 2018

To my Grandpa - the final goodbye


Every week, without fail, even if I was out of town, since January 2017, I've written my grandpa a letter.  He never wrote back, but he didn't have to.  Sometimes, the letters were short, sometimes I poured my heart out.  Every once in a while the boys would also write letters.  Most weeks, Quinn drew a picture - usually of dinosaurs or big foot, because that's what he said Grandpa would like.

I knew that my Grandpa wasn't doing well.  He hadn't been doing well for months and months.  Last summer was a bad one culminating in a pace maker and another extended stay at the Legacy rehabilitation center.  After that, accommodations were made at home so that Grandpa could be as comfortable as possible in his home of over 60 years.  A CNA who took a liking to my Grandpa, Margaret, took care of him every day since August, even spending the night with him the last night he was alive.

The last week or so wasn't good.  My grandpa fought so hard for so many years to stay alive, I think that we were all so surprised that last Wednesday he just didn't wake up from his nap.  If there were ever a way to go, peacefully in your sleep with your remote control and cup of crushed ice is a pretty good way to move from one life to the next.  Margaret told my mom and Cindy and Jackie later that she'd gone in to check on him and Grandpa looked at her and said , "I've got to go!"  Margaret assumed that mean to the bathroom and when she told him to give her a minute to get the walker, he turned to her and said, "NO!  I don't need to go to the bathroom, I've got to go!"  And with that, he left us.

Driving home from school last Wednesday, the boys and I were talking about my Grandpa.  We talked about how he'd had a bad night, and that when we got home we were all going to write him a letter.  Quinn asked me, "Mom, when is Grandpa going to die?"  I wasn't sure how to respond, but with total faith, I said, "Well, I don't know.  It could be in 5 years or 5 months, or it could be tomorrow.  But, I'm pretty sure it isn't going to be today."

Straight through the door when we arrived home, Quinn headed to the table to draw an amazing picture.   The big boys headed upstairs to do the same.  Of all the dumb things int he world, I was having a bad hair day and went upstairs to wash my hair.

As soon as I came back downstairs, with paper in hand, the phone rang.  It was about 4:30 pm.  It was my mom.  I knew immediately what she was calling to tell me.  I think I answered with, "What's wrong?" and she told me that around 3:45, the same time the boys and I were talking about him on our way home from school, he took his last breaths.

I summoned the boys to me in the living room and immediately told them what had happened.  Quinn went back to his drawing, wondering how in the world he was going to get his drawing of big foot to great grandpa.  Wyatt asked if he could go back upstairs to work on his homework.  Elliott and I were left alone, sobbing.  I did my best to comfort him.  I probably failed.  But he and I sat together for a long time sharing thoughts and memories.  Surprisingly enough, while we were in the front room, a Michael Jackson song came on Pandora.

But you are not alone
I am here with you
Though we're far apart
You're always in my heart
You are not alone

It made us laugh a little, but was also pretty poignant.

We are not alone.  My grandpa is with us.  He always will be.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Happy Birthday, Elliott!


Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!

Oh my goodness.  That is ELEVEN birthday wishes for this boy, today, on his birthday.

Elliott, you were born bright and early on a Tuesday morning, and are celebrating your 11th birthday on a Tuesday as well.  I remember the day you were born.  It was exciting and scary; emotional and overwhelming all at the same time.  We were so excited to get you here, and so desperately terrified once you got here.  Well, I was terrified.  Dad?  He is always pretty cool.

Now, all these years later, the day you were born and our nervousness about whether or not you were going to breathe and be okay have faded and mom and dad, we are left with the joy (and sometimes frustration) of watching you grow up.

You my boy, you are such a good boy!  I love to watch you grow and learn.  I love to watch you laugh and dance.  I love to watch you sit with the grown-ups at dinner and try to figure out everything that we are talking about.  I love to watch you play soccer and basketball and talk to you about the books you are reading.  I LOVE that I can give you the money and sent you and your brother's into the 7-11 without me and everything will work out okay.  I love that you are learning from your mistakes and making good choices in your life.

I am blown away by how smart you are.  How kind you CAN BE to your brothers, and how much you love babies - there aren't many 11 year old's who dive for baby cousins the second they enter a room to hold and cuddle and get them to laugh.  Baby Brady is pretty lucky to have you as his oldest cousin.

You are getting so tall.  You are getting so mature.  Now, as I gush with all these platitudes about how great you are - I still remember the day a couple weeks ago when, in a momentary lapse in judgement, and a little out of spite, you destroyed all your brothers mine craft homes and worlds and started a brotherly rumble that took two weeks to earn all the screens back.    And, I saw those elbows you threw in your basketball game the other Saturday.  Yeah, I remember that, too.  I'm like an elephant, I never forget.

In a year, you are going to be a deacon and have priesthood responsibilities in our church.  A few years after that, you will be driving and then, in a short sneeze after that, you will be gone.  Whether a mission or college or eventually both, you will jump away from me and it will be so exciting for you.  Being your mom up to this point, it's felt like you will be mine forever.  Something about eleven though - it feels like I've turned the corner and my time with you is S L O W L Y ...starting to shrink.

I love you (and your brothers) so much.  I feel so lucky everyday that I get to be your mom.  That I get to watch you grow, be your chauffeur and your teacher and your cook.  As sad as it feels for me to see you growing up sometimes, I just cannot wait to see all that is in front of you.

You, Elliott Moyle Howden, have a bright future ahead of you.


Sunday, January 21, 2018

Church Talk


Today, I spoke in sacrament meeting as part of the Relief Society Presidency.  I'm the second counselor.  Our assigned topic was "the ward family" which is a totally made up topic that has nearly zero talks or other references to work with, so that a speaker can not sound like she made the whole thing up.

Well, I made the whole thing up - the talk that is, not the details within it.  Those are true.  I talked about my ward growing up and about an experience Ross and I had right before Christmas.

If you'd like to read it, here it is.  My mom said I should put it on the blog.

I have.

I was raised in Magna, Utah and grew up as a member of a pretty interesting ward.  I was in the same ward as my grandparents and they were two of the founders.  In fact, my grandpa was bishop of the Lake Ridge 4th ward twice, totaling 13 years in a 20 year span.  My grandma unofficially ran the show in our ward and her dominance started with our row.  You see, the back row of the chapel was reserved for the Huber family, my family.  In fact, if someone was sitting on our pew as we walked into the chapel for sacrament meeting, my grandmother would politely request they move and stand there until they did.  Not only did we have our row, we also had assigned seats.  I sat next to my grandmother, no questions asked.  It was my job to pass out the Werther’s Originals after the sacrament.
During my childhood, there were some characters in my ward, the most interesting being Bob.  He once ran for President of the United States.  He also built an ark in his backyard, always carried a ketchup packet in his front pocket, sometimes came to church using a  wheelchair and drove around in a van with a hand carved orca whale on the roof.  There was Gary, who was legally blind and a Type 1 Diabetic and in spite of his vision impairment and amputated toes, still drove around the neighborhood daily.  When BYU won a game on a Saturday, Vernita, wore her “BYU Blue” dress to church on Sunday to show her allegiance.   And my dad made sure to wear his bright red Utah tie when the opposite was true.  There was Tor, the Norwegian sign painter; Evelyn who we called “evil-lynn” because, well, she was; and the Hills who we referred to as the Radley’s because the whole family rarely came outside, except for church, and they all reminded us of Boo.  Brother Wolfgram was from New Zealand and was crushed upon by every woman and young woman in my ward because of his kind heart, Mauri accent, and striking good looks.  Sue and Yvonne were two of the old grandmas of our ward who crocheted dish rags and made bottle brush cleaners for everyone’s birthday.   Brother Rhode was a single dad and my mom’s unofficial primary counselor who did the greatest sharing times I’ve ever seen and Brother Edwards was the most enthusiastic primary chorister who ever lived  and he ran singing time like a rock concert.  My home teachers growing up were Brother Burkette and Brother Weber. They were both eternally in their 80’s and faithfully came every month for years until they each passed away.  They always stayed too long, but they were hilarious.  Watching their monthly performance was like watching Statler and Waldorf, the old guys in the balcony from the Muppets.  
When I turned 9 years old, my dad was called to be the bishop.  He was 33  and the calling required him to cut off his permed mullet to lead our ward.  In the 6 years he was bishop, I sat on the front row as he performed many weddings and presided of many funerals; was his faithful home teaching companion to all the widows in the ward, and always rode shotgun as we traveled to activities, fundraisers and service projects.  Once, as bishop, my dad was invited by the mother of a new family in our ward to be her dance partner, to the song “Hungry Eyes” in the ward talent show.  He declined.
This is the short list of some of the more eccentric members of my ward growing up and I tell you about these people with no malice or ill will.    In fact, quite the opposite.  These individuals were part of my ward family growing up and they, with so many others, helped to turn me into the person I am today.  They were my teachers and advisors, often my role models, and sometimes, bright flashing warning signs.  Robert D. Hales said in 1996 that ward families are made up of adults, youth, children, the single, married and widowed all caring for and strengthening one another.   Unlike our ward today, there were only a total of 6 kids (2 boys and 4 girls) my age growing up, and our mutual never totalled more than 30.  There was often a “recycling” of adults in leadership positions and the same 6 women ran our ward’s young women’s program faithfully for decades, just rotating presidency and advisory roles.  And, those 6 women, Wendy, Beth, Karen, Leia, Kandie and Shannon were some of the most influential in my life, even calling me to be the 1st counselor in the YW presidency months after I graduated from high school.
The “ward family” is not something mentioned in any handbook.   In fact, there are very few searchable talks and references through church websites and resources.  On, there were remarks given by a man named David Brown in December of 2005.  He stated that the purpose of a ward family is two-fold.  One, to ease loneliness for those that are lonely - the widowed, elderly, and solitary members who need checking in, sacrament brought to their homes, or someone to talk to.  The second purpose is to provide a safe harbor.  A ward family that is a safe harbor, according to Brown does the following: has warm and friendly members; testimonies shared with conviction; abounds in charity; has well attended activities and dedicated home and visiting teachers who rarely miss a visit.  I would add, a ward that is a safe harbor also has youth who do not feel isolated or excluded, members who accept callings and opportunities to teach, pray and speak willingly, and an overwhelming light of Christ.  Simply put, a ward family creates a sense of community and support for those living within its boundaries, regardless of whether or not those individuals are members of the Church.  
The Friday before Christmas, Ross and I attended a funeral.  The husband of a co-worker passed away from quick battle with cancer - he was a navy veteran and a lifelong smoker who had been suffering from bad health for months.  There were only about 25 people in attendance - primarily co-workers and a few family members flown in from Kentucky.  The memorial service was held in the Relief Society room of a church in Sandy, conducted by a bishop, with food provided by a Relief Society.  The family is not LDS, but due to the husband’s health problems, had through a friend been in contact with their bishop and the sister missionaries.  Even though the occasion was sad, this memorial service was uplifting and inspiring.  Ross contacted the Navy and had military honors performed.  The bishop had been talking with the family for several months and had taken the time to get to know them.  He shared personal experiences and insights that were perfect for the small service.  Each of the deceased's brothers shared a few words in their thick Kentucky drawls.  They spoke lovingly of their brother, but more interestingly, they spoke of the surprise and amazement at the LDS community's support of their family in this time of need.  They were in awe of the kindness, charity and love they were receiving from a group of people they did not know.
Sister Bonnie Oscarson, in her address at the October General Conference said, “How much value is there in fixing the world if the people around us are falling apart and we don’t notice?” We are often overwhelmed with talk about society’s attack on the family, religion and Christianity.  I would like to argue that in fact, there are good people in this world!  At the funeral mentioned previously, two of the Non-LDS brothers offered the opening and closing prayers.  These prayers were sincere and inspiring. There are good people all over the world, and though they may not be the same faith as us, they still need our help.  It is up to us as members of the church, to extend our “Ward Family” to those that do not attend church with us.  We must help and serve those who are different than us.  When the world goes low, we must go higher. We should be persistent in our efforts to embrace our differences and look to find light in all those who cross our paths.
In the same conference address, Sister Oscarson also said, “Pray for help in recognizing those in your ward families who need love and encouragement.  Instead of attending church with the questions of ‘What am I going to get out of this meeting?’ ask, ‘Who needs me today?’”  As we begin a new year, with a new direction in our Sunday meetings requiring us to be more active in our membership, faith and devotion, I invite you to focus more of your energy and attention on others - those within your ward families and community.
I look back with the utmost fondness on the ward of my childhood.  I remember the experiences and individuals that influenced my life for the good - those who served faithfully in their callings.  I remember the activities and service projects, the dinners and fundraisers.  I remember being taught by example how to be a good member of my faith and my ward.  If you have not yet set some goals for yourself in this new year, I encourage you to set a goal to be a better member of your ward family


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