Grace Resident completes book of memories

Two different people suggested that I speak with Grace resident Barbara Willes (whose full name is Barbara Louise Marshall Black Willes) recently, and I’m not one to ignore a sign from the universe.  And as is often the case, the universe was right!  Willes is a delightful conversationalist and a “life long learner” who could teach anyone a thing or two.

In fact, teaching is something that Barbara has also done throughout her life.  She initially received her degree in Home Economics.  After that, she taught, at the very least, Home Economics, Physical Education, Health, 6th grade, 2nd grade, and decades worth of lessons at the church.  Throughout her career, she taught Chicago, in Provo, in Orem, in Goshen.  She has taught in elementary schools, high schools, and junior highs, and even senior centers..   

She grew up in Panguitch, Utah in 1926, where her father owned “the only drug store in three counties.  And he was the only one around for fifty years!”  Her father was also the mayor for many years, and she remembers having a great life there during her early years, growing up as one of seven children in the home.  Her six siblings have passed away, and as Barbara says, “I’m the only one who made it to eighty…but I’m also the only one who made it to ninety, and ninety-five, and ninety-eight…” and laughs.   

 As Barbara notes, being born when she was in 1926 makes her “almost 98 and a half!”  That lifetime of experience is instantly felt in speaking with her.  She has a quick smile and something to say about almost anything you could bring up.  

“One of my goals is to make it to 100,” she says casually, and it seems like a safe bet.  While most of her siblings experienced Alzheimers in their later years, Barbara has had a remarkably healthy life.  As daughter Linda Toone explained, “We think those three things—enjoying hobbies, keeping her mind sharp and her body active every day—are what have kept her thriving for the last 25 years.”  Linda notes, however that “she’s finally started to slow down!  In fact, just this last month when she’s caught a couple of colds—I’ve seen her take a nap on her bed a few times—which I’ve never seen her do my entire life!  So she’s finally starting to act her age!”

Hobbies are a big part of Barbara’s regimen.  After her second husband passed in 1999, she found some hobbies that she really loved, according to Linda, including an astonishing array such as “woodworking, wheel-thrown pottery, photography, stained glass, writing, cruising, and so on.”

For someone who loves to learn, staying busy in body and mind is a must.  “She’s a voracious reader, and also loves jig-saw puzzles and Word Search books.  For years she drove to nearby University Mall in Orem at 7:00 every morning (except Sunday, of course) to walk three miles.  She always had something to memorize in her shirt pocket—poems, scriptures, the Preamble to the Constitution, etc.  She continued that until Covid shut down the mall.”

Callie Hamp at the Grace Library talks about Barbara with a large smile.  “She’s one of our best visitors—I’m surprised she isn’t here right now!  On the days she’s at home by herself, she usually walks down here.  She’ll say ‘I’m on my own today, so here I am!”

During our conversation, Barbara mentioned her younger brother, Don Marshall, who passed away in 2022 as a much-loved Emeritus professor at BYU.  “My mother said ‘Don teaches Humanities at the University—what in the world is that?’ and I went down to see.  Then I kept going to as many of his classes as I could.  At one point, it was me and three or four grandkids in the front row, learning everything we could!” Barbara remembers.

As part of a range of courses Marshall taught over the years, he founded the university’s international cinema program, and Barbara spent many days watching films from around the world with him.  While the BYU community exposed Willes to a diversity of cultural and international influences, she has also been a student of the life of the mind, and her own personal experience. 

In fact, she used to teach a class she called “writing about your life history one story at a time” at the Provo and Orem Senior Centers for from 1998 until she moved up to Grace to live with her daughter Linda and son-in-law Curtis Toone.  Even after she retired as a teacher, it’s a habit she maintains, whether that involves teaching her friends, peers, family, and anyone else with a curious mind.

“Each person would write a story every week, and then bring it to the class and read it to the class.”  There were about fifteen people in the class.  There were never any assigned topics, Barbara just asked each person to pick a “snippet from their life.” 

“And that’s what she did too,” Linda notes, paging through the book proof of Barbara’s collected writings.  

“That’s what all those are,” Barbara laughs. “My snippets!”  Looking over at Linda, she adds, “now don’t mess those pages up or you’ll be in trouble.”

When teaching her classes on writing about one's life, she was fond of making the analogy that “when an elderly person dies, it’s as if a library has burned down.”

It’s a valuable point—the vast majority of what any one person experiences mostly stays in their own mind, and leaves when they do.  To that end, Barbara believes in the importance of keeping a record of your own life so that it doesn’t similarly disappear.

Over the course of her life, Barbara has had a lot to remember.  Her first husband, Linda’s dad, died when Linda was only 5 in 1959. Barbara’s second husband died in 99.  For Linda and her siblings, Barbara was the connecting thread.  “She was a wonderful mother,” Linda says.

“Well, what else could you say when I’m right here,” Barbara laughs.  But it’s pretty obvious that Linda is being heartfelt.

“You instilled such confidence in me, and sometimes I think I didn’t deserve all that confidence,” Linda laughs.  “But you always said you can set your mind to do whatever you want, and you can be whatever you want to be, and all those kinds of things that make you feel like you can go out and conquer the world.”

Barbara ended up raising seven kids, of which Linda is the second, with 22 or so years between the youngest and the oldest.  

“From 49 to 69,” Barbara adds.  

“It seemed like she was parenting all the time,” Linda said.  “She was an amazing mother for a lot of years.”

“I had to be, I had seven kids!” Barbara says.

Linda points out the since the last three were adopted, it is clear that there is something about motherhood she really enjoyed.

BYU recently sent a proof of Barbara’s book, and said “make sure that everything is the way you want it before we print it.  So, mom proofread it herself after we had put it into the computer, and found 70 pages out of 482 with problems,” Linda laughs.  “I’m really glad you proofread it, though,” she says to her mother, “you caught them all!”  

Most of the book involves stories and poems that she’s written over the years, leading up to her the new chapter of her life in Grace.

She has lived in Grace since December of last year, and the first thing that she has to say about it is that “it’s awfully cold!  I thought Panguitch was cold, but this is much colder.  Eventually, I will get acquainted with everyone.”  After living in Orem for the last sixty-plus years, she does note that she likes the quiet of Grace.  

“Orem was quiet in my day, but not any more,” Linda says, having grown up in that area.

The adjustment has been an ongoing one, but she says that she been welcomed in warmly, especially by her new ward just down the block.  Like the library, the church is just within walking distance for her.  Her rollator walker is in the garage at the moment, but as she says, “the first sign of summer, I’m going to get that out and then I’m on my way again!”

Anyone who has met Barbara Louise Marshall Black Willes will have no doubt that she will be!

Going Home in Search
of my Chidlhood

By Barbara Willes

Every time I go back home

I get that lonesome feeling.

And as I walk across the lawn

Old memories come stealing.

My memories of vines and ivy

Climbing up the wall,

And yellow roses by the porch

Bring smiles as I recall

The yellow taffeta dress I wore-

A Shirley Temple style,

Matched the roses perfectly.

I stand remembering quite a while.

The vines and roses may be gone,

But I can see them still,

And memories come rushing back-

My eager mind to fill.

As I walk through the front door,

The first thing that I miss

Is Mom’s and Pop’s “Here’s Bessie,”

And my “welcome home” type kiss.

The big round table’s missing

From the middle of the floor,

Taking with it memories

Of big dinners, games, and more.

The soft light of the fireplace

And the corner Christmas tree

Have vanished from the parlor,

But their memories I still see.

I search along the bookcase shelves

For books that I once read.

I rummage through the dresser drawers

And boxes ‘neath the bed.

Searching for some thread of youth,

Some remnant of my past-

A picture, diary, something

I could cling to-make it last.

I fling the closet open,

Remembering games and dolls,

Then quickly search the shelves above,

But nothing-just bare walls.

Rushing down the hall, I open 

Cupboard doors to see

If I can find some remnants

Of my childhood poetry.

Just linens and some boxes,

Now empty-nothing there.

I stir through things quite frantically

For something I can share.

It’s gone—

My childhood is gone—

But memories still cling

To the inner surface of my mind

And happiness they’ll bring.