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AN UNFINISHED STORY

Personal History of Charles Robert Ashcroft

“Goodbyes hurt the most when the story was not finished.”
“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls a butterfly.”

 ― Richard Bach

My brother’s life was not long, nor was it easy.  The second child of Theron Milton and Lucretia Inez Parsons Ashcroft, Charles was born with a congenital heart defect which ended his life at the age of 15.  His was a quiet thoughtful life.  Perhaps he understood that his purpose in this mortal sphere was not to have the things of mortality nor to accomplish the things that are valued during mortality.  He was already good enough, pure enough, compassionate enough, kind enough.  Perhaps his life was meant for us -- the life lessons we learned through our experiences with him.

 In recent years it has occurred to me that nothing has been recorded of his life.  Although I was not yet five years old when he died, I have felt compelled to preserve his memory.  I am grateful for a mother who kept important photos and documents, and for the memories that others have shared with me.

 There is only one single photo known to exist of the entire Ashcroft family. There are photos taken before Susan was born and photos taken after Charles died.  Although it is not a really good photo, thank goodness for it. This history is written in honor of my parents, my siblings, and all who knew Charles Robert Ashcroft.

- Judy Peterson, 2017

The Personal History of Charles Robert Ashcroft (1933-1948)

It was January 2nd, 1933. Inside Budge Memorial Hospital, doctors and nurses prepared for the birth of Logan, Utah’s first baby of the year.  Dr. Harry R. McGee had delayed his scheduled departure for a previously planned vacation in order to attend this delivery.  The birth certificate records the time of birth as 12:23.  No a.m. or p.m. is given, so we must consider that they were using a 24-hour clock.  If this is true, then shortly after noon at 12:23 pm, Dr. McGee delivered an 8 pound 2 ounce baby boy.  Anxious to begin his vacation, he gave the baby a cursory look, and seeing ten fingers and ten toes and no apparent problem, he handed the baby to the delivery nurse and exited the hospital. This baby would be known as Charles Robert Ashcroft, named after his paternal grandfather, Charles Robert Ashcroft (1867-1923).  His parents were Theron Milton Ashroft and Lucretia Inez Parsons.

Those were the days when mothers stayed in the hospital for ten days to two weeks to rest and regain their strength, and babies were cared for in the nursery and brought to the mothers only for nursing, so mother saw very little of this new baby until finally the two of them were released to go home. Mother and Daddy took their precious new baby to the beautiful little home they had built at 206 East Center Street, Hyde Park, Utah. There he met his older sister, Beatrice Anne Ashcroft (September 25,1930 -- September 11, 2016).

Once mother was responsible for Charles’ care it didn’t take her long to figure out that something was wrong.  He was so very still, his little cry hardly more than the mewl of a baby kitten, and his skin was a dusky blue color.  As soon as Dr. McGee returned from his vacation Mother took Charles in.  The doctor took one look at him  and said, “What happened to the baby?”

 There was no scanning or imaging in those days, and short of exploratory surgery, doctors could only guess about what was happening inside.  After a careful examination Dr. McGee told mother that he believed Charles suffered from Patent Truncus Arteriosus.  He explained this problem as follows:  Before a baby is born, the baby’s lungs are not the source of oxygen for the baby so there is no need for the baby’s blood to be oxygenated.  Therefore, there is a hole between the two chambers of the heart allowing the baby’s blood to recirculate through the body without having to go to the lungs for oxygen.  This hole is called the Truncus Arteriosus.  Once the baby is born, the blood has to go to the lungs to receive oxygen, which the blood then carries throughout the body.  So at birth, this hole (Truncus Arteriosus) closes, forcing the blood to circulate through the lungs.  If the Truncus Arteriosus remains open it is referred to as Patent (or open) Truncus Arteriosis.

 Dr. McGee told mother that there was nothing that could be done for Charles and that he likely would not live more than a few months.  They should take the baby home, love him and enjoy him for the short time they would have him.  And that is what they did!

 With limited oxygen, Charles’ little body struggled to function properly, and he was fragile throughout his entire life.  He did not have the strength to walk until he was four years old, so in all the early photos you see Charles sitting in a chair, his Kiddie Kar (stroller), a cardboard box, or being held by someone.

Charles was blessed and given his name in the Hyde Park Ward on February 5th 1933. Interestingly, his Certificate of Blessing lists two individuals giving him the blessing, R. Homer Hyde and James W. Seamons.

His early years were likely very much like those of other children (with less walking and running). He enjoyed playing with toys, blocks, looking at books, and watching his siblings play. His sister, Peggy Marie Ashcroft, was born on April 1, 1935. Mother and Daddy chose to have her delivered at home so that mother could be there to care for Charles. A year later a brother, Don Parsons Ashcroft, was born (September 7, 1936 -- September 25, 1978).

Don was a great playmate for Charles, and all the children provided constant care and entertainment for their brother.

The entire family celebrated when Charles learned to stand by himself, with a little support and safety net behind.

In 1939, Daddy accepted a teaching position at the Branch Agricultural College and the Ashcroft family moved to Cedar City on July 24th, 1939. They had not been able to procure housing before the move, and were so grateful when Will and Claire Jones offered them a place to stay upstairs in their home until they could find a place of their own.

The family stayed there until school started in the fall. Then they rented a home from Oscar Larson on 200 South -- directly south of campus.

This is where the family lived when Kay was born (October 10, 1939 -- August 21, 2007), bringing the family total to five children.

In 1943 Mother and Daddy purchased their own home at 369 South 200 West. Judy was born here (April 12, 1943).

When the family moved to Cedar City in 1939, Charles was six years old, and although he was was very fragile, Mother and Daddy decided that he could attend public school. The Cedar West Elementary school was just a few blocks north of their home. Initially, Anne pulled Charles to school in a large wagon. Then he stood on the back of her large tricycle. Eventually, she or one of the other children pumped him on the back of the family bicycle. Charles loved school! His first grade teacher was Mattie Booth, a beloved teacher for many years and teacher to many of the Ashcroft children. Her classroom had a sandbox, painting easels, wonderful building blocks, good books and toys that provided a comfortable learning environment. One of the things Mrs. Booth taught was making butter by filling a quart canning jar with cream and rolling it back and forth across the floor until it turned to butter. Grades one and two were taught in the district administration building just north of the elementary school. This building provided easy access to the classroom for Charles.

His third grade teacher was Miss Mortensen. Grades three and four were held on the ground floor of the elementary school. There were a few more steps to get in and out, but this was still manageable for Charles.

I interviewed five or six of Charles’ classmates.  Allison Smith Bushnell described Charles as a student that everyone loved.  She said he was the “smileyist” person she has ever met -- always a pleasant face and a big smile for everyone.  She commented on how thin and frail he was and said he always wore overalls that were twice as big around as he was.  His little body just swam around inside them (Most likely there was no way that he could keep a pair of pants up).  He was smart and quick to raise his hand to answer questions.  One classmate remembered how his hands always looked blue.  They all remembered Charles being brought to school in the wagon and how the boys in the class would carry Charles piggy back or make a chair with their arms to carry him.

The elementary school was a two-story building.  The fifth and sixth grades were taught on the upper floor.  Going up and down those stairs was just too taxing for Charles, and so his classmates and friends vied for the chance to carry him -- upstairs in the morning, down the stairs for recess, back up to the classroom; down the stairs for lunch and then back up after lunch; downstairs for recess and back up the stairs again;  downstairs at the end of the day, and hundreds of trips up and down for special things like singing Christmas carols around the big Christmas tree in the entryway, assemblies on the second floor of the administration building,  trips to the restroom, outdoor projects, milk and juice breaks in the lunchroom located in the basement.

Recess was particularly challenging.  Sometimes the boys would carry him piggy back for games of dodgeball or softball, but often he was content just to watch.  Vern Cooley (Mother’s cousin) spoke at Charles’ funeral and said this:

“He had the quality of patience so wonderfully developed within him. It didn’t matter what the kids wanted to play, whether they wanted to play ball or ride horses, he knew his limitations and he could always sit back and watch the others. God gave him good sense, and doctors told him that if he wanted to live, for a boy in his condition, he could not be too active.”

Oscar Hulet was the elementary school principal. He said of Charles,

“I remember Charles in our school. It makes me tremble to think of the graciousness of that boy. He had the ability to make friends and draw people around him. He had never been spoiled. He was gracious in accepting the things and services that his friends vied to bestow upon him. I have seen literally hundreds of times Charles riding ‘piggy back’ on the backs of his friends, accepting it graciously and helping his friends as they helped him. I have had the rare privilege to carry him and enjoy him as he attended our school, a privilege for which I am indeed thankful.”

One of Charles’ classmates was Jim Parry. At the funeral of his mother he spoke to my sister, Anne, about his memories of Charles. Anne wrote the following letter to the rest of the family in April of 1996.

“He said how well he remembered carrying Charles up the stairs at the school. I have thought of this before and even used it in a talk, saying how that experience blessed Charles but how I think it also blessed those boys who were privileged to carry him up the stairs and think about his welfare, etc. This just reinforced my feelings. Today there would be 14 advocates for equal rights making sure that an elevator was installed, an aide was available, etc. In 40 years there will not be 10, 12, or 20 boys who remember how they carried someone in their arm-chairs up the stairs to school, out to recess, back in again, out at noon, back in again, out to recess, back in again and out after school. They won’t remember how they had to change their plans for the end of school outing so it would be more accessible for Charles. They won’t have had that opportunity to grow, to stretch, to render service, to become more caring, to think of others – all because all of this will be taken care of by paid social workers who will see that their rights are protected. By the same token, and or the same reasons, our lives have each been blessed because there was no one watching out for Charles except his family, his neighbors, his friends and those who loved him – who did it without pay and without undue praise. We are richer because of this opportunity, and hearing Jim express that reminded me once again of how very blessed I am because of my family.”

In the sixth grade, Charles’ teacher was Morris Buchanan. He had a personal interest in taxidermy. You will notice that in the class photo all of the children are holding stuffed birds. There was obviously a teaching unit on birds, or taxidermy as part of their classwork. Mr. Buchanan also taught his class to play the harmonica.

Another thing they studied in sixth grade included creating some tableaus. Charles was in the “Washington crossing the Delaware” tableau, and he was George Washington. Mother made his costume, including the sword and the white powdered wig.

I love this photo of Charles below. He is lying on the old metal bed that stood beheath the cherry tree under the clothesline. During the summer, mom and dad would put it there and whoever was sleeping upstairs where the rooms were so hot it was impossible to sleep would sleep in that outside bed. Charles spent many hours during the summer resting on the bed where he could be outside and watch what the others were doing. In this photo Charles is holding a fishing rod, and I suspect that he was able to imagine just what it would be like to really fish. And I suspect that he got satisfaction out of imagining many different things in which he could not really participate.

Roden Williams was Charles’ age.  He lived directly across the street and was one of Charles’ playmates.  I interviewed Roden.  He was in the same class as Charles in first grade.  He said he played with Charles a lot.  He especially remembered playing with Charles’ electric train.  Charles slept upstairs in the big bedroom.  The room was big enough to accommodate a ping pong table and also a train track on the floor.  The train was an early model Lionel.  It had an electric headlight, produced smoke as it chugged along, and could produce a train whistle.  He and Roden spent many happy hours with that train.

Charles had other hobbies which could keep him busy and happy.  The ping pong table also served as a work table where Charles put together model airplanes.  That bedroom was directly below the roof so the walls followed the roofline up on a slant and then a flat ceiling across the top.  That created two seam lines running parallel the length of the room.  Charles hung his finished models, suspended on fishing line, from these seams.

The ping pong table also provided a work space for Charles’ stamp collection.  The album is long since gone, but the collection went to Charles Judd, and some of his duplicate stamps went to Randall Peterson, Jr.

Whittling and wood carving was another of Charles’ hobbies.

As Junior High approached, Mother and Daddy faced a difficult decision. The junior high school was another two-story building, but each hour the students moved from one room to another. This could mean that Charles would be going up and down stairs between each class. This was something that he could not do on his own, and it would become more difficcult and complicated for his friends to be resonsible to get him to every class. Mother also worried that junior high would be more rough and tumble and too risky for Charles to be injured. And so the decision was made to keep him at home. I’m sure that Charles would have been disappointed, but Mother had a plan. Susan was to be born just a week or two after school started. With a new baby and a two-year-old besides, Mother would “need” a helper. That would be Charles’ job, and I’m sure that helped to soften the blow. I remember Charles as our constant companion during the remaining three years of his life. He was always patient, kind, and loving to us. Much of the time he lay on the couch and watched the two of us as we played with our paper dolls, danced and twirled to music or listened to our story records. But often he would read to us, or play board games with us, or build blocks, or comb our hair or feed us.

Charles especially loved and felt responsible for Susan, and she adored Charles. The following is a letter that Mother sent to Susan years after Charles passed away.

Charles grew up in a faithful Latter-day Saint home. He participated in Sunday School and Primary.

He was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when he was eight years old.

Church policy at that time was that once children were baptized they could perform baptisms for the dead. Charles’ little scrapbook contains a slip of paper indicating that he performed eleven baptisms for the dead in the Logan Temple on the 22nd of November, the same year he was baptized. Our Aunt Phyllis Scholes (Daddy’s sister) was an assistant recorder in the Logan Temple. She would have helped make the arrangements for Charles to go to the temple while the family was visiting in Hyde Park.

There are two little tithing slips in Charles’ photo album.  They are both for five cents each.  It makes me wonder what little jobs Charles might have done so that he could learn about the important principle of tithing.

When Charles turned twelve, he graduated from Primary and received the Aaronic Priesthood.

In 1946 Charles received an Aaronic Priesthood Award from the Church. The award required 75% attendance at priesthood meeting, 50% attendance at sacrament meeting, fulfilling 50 priesthood assignments, observing the Word of Wisdom, full payment of tithing, speaking in Church, participating in one welfare project, and participating in one Arronic Priesthood service project. That was quite an accomplishment for someone with such limited capacity.

As Charles got older and his body grew, it became increasingly difficult for his heart to sustain him.  With any exertion, he would begin to hemorrhage.  I remember Mother and Daddy talking about a day when Charles was helping at the turkey plant.  Through some kind of a misunderstanding, no one went to pick him up and finally Charles walked home.  He started to hemorrhage, leaving quite a trail of blood behind him.  Sometimes these hemorrhages would last for hours, and often they would occur during the night.  Charles slept in an upstairs bedroom in a brass bed.  He kept a large nail by his bed and would pound on the brass headboard when he needed Mother.  It was so frightening for everyone.  Sometimes Mother was so frightened she would call Dr. Farnsworth.  He would come, night or day, and sit with her, and although there was little that he could do for Charles, it was comforting to Mother to have a doctor there.  To her dying day, Mother thought the world of Dr. Farnsworth and was so grateful for all that he had done.

Charles had a very rare blood-type.  The only other person in Cedar City with that blood type was Ned Sargeant.  He was an alcoholic, but when Charles needed a transfusion they would look for Ned.  If he was sober he could give blood, and this proved to be such a great blessing on many occasions.

Sometime during 1947, Dr. Broadbent attended a conference at the Mayo Clinic.  There he learned about a new surgery where they could open up the heart and repair the patent truncus arteriosis.  He came back so excited and encouraged Mother and Daddy to take Charles to the Mayo in Rochester, Minnesota for surgery.  Mother and Dad called the Mayo to see if they would accept Charles and were told that a Dr. Rumel from Salt Lake City had trained with them and was performing that very surgery at LDS Hospital in Salt Lake.  Mother and Daddy contacted LDS Hospital and they agreed to see Charles.

Mother and Daddy knew from the beginning that this surgery would be very risky and Charles’ survival  was not at all certain.  Most of their friends realized that too, and many reached out to say goodbye to Charles.  Ned Sargeant came one evening and brought Charles a gift -- fifteen silver dollars -- one for every year Charles had lived.  This was a lot of money in 1948 and was a very generous gift.  Lucy and Lanell Lunt came to visit, bringing Charles a gift of a hair brush, comb and mirror to take to the hospital.  David L. Sargeant, who was the Stake President in Cedar City came, along with Oscar Hulet, the elementary school principal, to give Charles a blessing.  Oscar Hulet spoke at Charles’ funeral and said this,

“This good family has honored me twice in their lives within the last few days. They invited me to their home, and there to unite with them in giving Charles a blessing, and we prayed for him, expressing to our God the desires of our hearts, and we had faith and we were comforted.”

Susan and I were taken to Milford to be cared for by Grandma Inez Parsons.  Anne, who was still in high school, was left in charge of the household and the other three siblings.  I remember the morning we left to take Charles to Salt Lake.  Charles, Susan and I were tucked into the back seat of the car and covered with scratchy wool army blankets.  It was before daybreak, and we counted the number of times the sun came up from behind the mountains.  After dropping Susan and me at Grandma’s, Mom, Daddy, and Charles traveled on to Salt Lake and checked in at LDS Hospital, Room 302.  This would most likely have  been on Monday, January 26th or Tuesday, January 27th, because his death certificate says he was in the hospital for 11 days before his death.

It must have seemed like a long time to be away from his family and friends, but Charles was a happy and a patient patient.  He wrote cute and funny letters to his friends and siblings.

This letter from Charles has been scanned, but was written on onion skin and the pages have kind of bled together.  It is a happy, funny letter.  He has even drawn a picture of himself.  It is dated February 2, 1948, and in the right hand upper corner it says Room 302, Floor 3, L.D.S. H.

“Dear Kids,

Well it is Monday night and so I think I’ll write to you because I got your letters (only one envelope) today.

Did or didn’t Don go to Ray’s party?  Kay said he did and Don said he didn’t.

Tell Roden and the rest of them that I am not on the same floor as I was before and so I don’t have the same nurses as before.  I’ll give all the details later.

The weather has been okay until tonight and it’s blowing and snowing now.

So just for fun, ask Don if he knows Mohauht Gaindi (I think that’s how to spell it)  HaHa, I can just see his face.
Vern (Cooley), Kay and Eldredge came to see me the other day and Eldredge gave me some magic tricks that should make your eyes pop.

”The Doctors must be having a shindig tonight because about a million 1,000,000 of them just went by my door.
Well about all they have done to me so far is feed me pills, make me spray my throat and do breathing exercises and eat breakfast at 9:00, dinner at 12:00, and supper at 6:00.

My day starts at 6:00 when they take my temperature and pulse.  Then at 8:00 they get you water to wash with, breakfast at 9:00, then a bath and clean bed covers, then brush my teeth, dinner and supper.
Well, I’ve got to go down stairs at 11:00 so goodbye.
- Charles”

There are notes in the margin that say “I’ve got one nurse named Anne who is a mule” and “I can’t write too good in bed.”
Vern Cooley spoke at Charles’ funeral and referenced this visit to Charles in the hospital.  He said,

“Talk about courage. I visited him in the hospital a few days before his surgery and I wish you could have seen him as he lay in his bed hoping and awaiting the day for his operation. I haven’t seen anyone with the spirit of Charles Ashcroft. He was cheerful even though he knew that the chances were great that he wouldn’t come through. He had the spirit and faith in God. He certainly had understanding and courage in his heart for all of his fellowmen. It wasn’t the tinkling kind. It was genuine.”

A second letter says:

“Dear Everybody

Just a note to say thanks for all the cards and letters you have sent me.  I have received a letter from Anne twice, one from Aunt Phyllis, and a card from the Wasdens, one from Jerry Slack, and that’s all, but thanks for those.

Anne, be sure to tell all of those thanks who live in Cedar.

Mother has probably phoned you, but I go to surgery Friday at 7:30 or 9:00.

This is the last letter I’ll write for a while, so I’ll just say that mother asked and they said that Barbara isn’t here.

Just keep the money there.  I’ll write a letter to them at school later on, but be sure to tell all those that write me thanks until I get back.

Well, I’ve got to write to Judy before Mother comes, so Goodbye,

- Charles”

Charles was operated on by Dr. Ray Rumel on Friday, February 6, 1948.  When they opened him up and looked at his heart they were stunned.  His problem involved far more than the patent ductus arteriosis they had expected, and they did not even know where to begin so they sewed him up.  He never recovered from the anesthesia.  His death certificate lists the time of his death as 4:10 p.m., and gives the cause of death as Congenital heart disease, truncus arteriosis, interventricular septal defect, and absence of pulmonary artery.   Mother was at his bedside and said he just peacefully quit breathing.   With all the miracles of open heart surgery that have taken place in the last sixty years, I suspect that had Charles been born today he would most likely have been able to live a normal healthy life.

Mother and Daddy always felt that the LDS Hospital had treated them so well.  The following correspondence from the hospital is interesting and instructive.

Mother and Daddy returned to Cedar City to prepare for the funeral.  As was customary at the time, the viewing took place in our home.  The Relief Society sisters came in to help.  They cleaned everything and even scrubbed the walls  (our furnace burned coal which, over time, would leave a greasy film on the walls).  It had snowed and snowed.  The men from the ward came with their shovels and cleared the walks and even the street to make it possible for those coming to the viewing to be able to park up and down the street.

 The funeral was held on February 9th in the Cedar City Second Ward.  The following is a transcript of his funeral.