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"Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ear. I come to bury Caesar not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred in their bones. So let it be with Caesar."
"Having been born of goodly parents..."
Somehow both of these quotations seem to be running through my ears when I think of parents because I had goodly parents who left an inhheritance mess behind them that is taking years to untangle. Since Nephi's and Anthony's conflicting words have rung in my ears for many days, I will begin by declaring that I was indeed born of goodly parents. It is bewildering to me that the good seems to be interred in their bones while the evil is living after them.
I was born into a home that provided for me, nurtured me, supported me, and loved me. The many achievements and honors I received for being "Outstanding" while living under the influence of these two human beings are evidence that in no way was I anything but cherished and encouraged. I never suffered any kind of abuse at their hands--not physical, sexual, or verbal. I formed some definite opinions for my lifestyle being subjected to theirs, but I never incurred anything but warmth and caring in their charge. My parents, Howard and Velma Whitehouse, delighted in me. My parents, themselves, were stalwarts in the community and drew respect from my friends, church and community leaders, and professional acquaintances. They were well liked and looked up to. How then, could I be facing this task of recording in "Property Problems" something happening now that is so wrong, stemming from the way they lived their lives? It is mind boggling.
My parents saw that I had the gospel. Mother, particularly, had an uncanny sense of integrity and honor. She loved everything honorable-the Savior, the country, Prophets, Presidents. She would get tears in her eyes at the sight of the American flag flying in full breeze. She never missed hearing church conferences on radio or television. She loved beautiful things and filled my life with wonderful stories, poems or sayings, sweet-smelling flowers, interesting jewelry, and scrapbooks of nature pictures. Even in her ailing years mother knew the top ten songs, the top ten movies, and all the academy award artists. She was tuned-in to politicians, artists, musicians, and countries anywhere in the world. Mother had class-genuine class.
Mother was left fatherless at age four, the youngest child born to a seamstress. All those growing up years her mother sewed her the most fashionable dresses in town. Her four older brothers showed her off every chance they could. She grew up loving style and fashion. She carried this air on as a single girl living in Salt Lake with a job of her own in her early adulthood. Social life and fun were important to her. Mother loved people and was kind to all no matter who they were. Between her early work in the Tooele Court House and her later years as receptionist for the Tooele Clinic's five doctors she knew every family and their intimacies for miles around. She treated this knowledge with respect although she had a gift to look at a person or a situation and immediately call a spade a spade. I've never seen anyone that could attach value as quickly as she did and never be wrong. She was open, sometimes tactless, and if someone or something didn't amount to a hill of beans, you would hear her saying "...it doesn't amount to a hill of beans." I remember her introducing Harvey to her friends in his presence as, "Well, it looks like he will be my son-in-law. I don't like it, but that's the way it is." That was mom. She was an open book with her feelings.
Mom was romantic, sedimental and very tender. She was the one you could bring little sick animals to for help, and as I grew, I realized she was the backbone for many sick people--not just from her work in the clinic, but from those who would seek her out for her wisdom and counsel. She was the cornerstone of our family because she was always there when we needed someone; dad was always gone. She was the cornerstone of the relatives family, too, and taught me to love aunts, uncles, and cousins. They loved her, so I became acquainted with them as they visited her. She taught me every member of the family is important even when they don't measure up as you think they should. She taught me each child has a special place in a mother's heart depending on the placement in the family. Certain joys belong to certain genders and order. Mine was to be the youngest and, therefore, have the most time alone with her. Mother and I were very close. She taught me to honor others and be straight forward in my dealings. She regularly expressed she hated a lie more than anything on earth. Yet, she was forced to live in a lie. How could that happen?
My father, likewise, saw that I was tutored in the ways of the Lord. His pet peeve was someone who broke the Word of Wisdom. He hated a smoker. He encouraged me to go to church, to read the bible, and to keep myself pure. He got onto me if I had interest in any young man that was not desirable for a Whitehouse. Somehow the name Whitehouse was supposed to be royal, and pleasing the Whitehouses overruled everything else. Both my parents worked hard, but Dad, especially, was a workaholic and drew me into that circle as I was growing up.
I spent much of my life tagging after my father and helping him all I could, giving him much more help than I ever gave mother. I really didn't like the house much, so off I would go after dad. Dad was in touch with mother earth. He seemed driven by a dream to show people he could build a really big ranch/farm operation. He taught me so many secrets of land, plants, water, animals, and mountains--especially the mountains. Dad was a real cowboy--a vanishing kind. I've seen a horse completely change personalities when he mounted. I've seen wild horses with nostrils blaring quiet at the touch of his hand. I learned from him that hard work never hurt anyone although I now question that you have to "achieve" to be important, an attitude that my father seemed to carry.
Dad was a story teller. He made the littlest thing seem big and wonderful, and he bragged on me all the time for being his "pig tail", his "tag-a-long", and my favorite--his "buck-a-roo." As I grew into adulthood I learned all my father's secrets. I knew which property was his, where his cows were, and how he managed to be the stock market meter because his animals always returned the fattest. My eyes also registered his weakness for petticoats. Young and old females found him absolutely charming, and he thrived on their attention. Dad was social like mom, but he lived in a much narrower world.
When attending Idaho State University at Logan, I still came home on weekends to help on the farm, to truck the animals to summer pasture, or bring them home. Dad returned service. I went through series of car break-downs that went on for weeks. The first one I made it to Erda. The second one, I made it to Salt Lake. The next one was Ogden, and finally I broke dowm a few blocks from my home in Logan. Every time Dad came and towed me home and had my car fixed. Even when I called to say I hadn't got out of Logan, Dad said, "That's okay, I've been wanting to see the Aggies play basketball anyway. I'll be up to watch the game and tow you home." He wanted my help on the farm, and I loved to give it. Even after marriage and children, I still returned every Halloween to trick or treat at Grandma's because she loved to see the kids in costume, and I loved to help with the branding and weaning-the joy of a rancher seeing the new crop all in one corral together. Dad and I had this special bond even after marriage.
So, within this short writing, I have made record that my childhood was full of delightful memories. I couldn't have asked for better parentage. I had the best of both worlds: mom's sophistication intermingling with professional people, and dad's rancher/farmer activities building up his empire dream. Nothing was too big or hard for either of them. Nothing seemed too big or hard for me as a child growing up in their home. I am grateful for my "Goodly Parantage."