Carlos – everybody in the family pronounces his name “Car-less” – was a stranger to me for most of my early life. He and his sweet wife Marguerite lived in California during my youth, so the only time I remember seeing him was at funerals, like Grandpa’s. But before I came along – and presumably before Carolos and his family moved to Southern California – they were around a lot, as there are many photos of them on the Web site, including here, here, here and here.
Roughly the time these photos were taken, Carole wrote the aforementioned biography of her father. And in it, we learn interesting little details about his life, like:
One of my father's earliest childhood memories was pulling rope behind him and going to the fields to find my grandfather. Many times he was found by my grandfather tracking the mark of the rope after he had wandered away. He attended elementary school and high school at Burlington and he says that many times he would wade in snow up to his waist while walking one and one-half miles to catch the horse-drawn school carriage.
Carlos and Marguerite had five children – our cousins: Ken, Carole, Jo (Karen), Jan and Al. I remember seeing them from time to time during my youth. But I didn’t get to know any of Carlos’ family at all until later in their lives, and mine, when Carlos and Marguerite moved to Utah and settled in Layton, where I lived. It was a great joy to get together from time to time, whether just talking with them at my parents’ house, a picnic or attending the wedding reception of one of my second cousins.
It should be noted, too, that Carlos was a great man of faith, too. He had served served as a bishop – more than once, I think – and was his stake’s patriarch in Layton. People loved him, respected and revered him, and for good reason.
I was working at the local newspaper at the time, and once in a while Carlos would call me to let me know he liked something I wrote or to congratulate me on a promotion; it really meant a lot, and I still cherish those conversations.
Carlos died too early, at age 76, in 1998. His funeral service was one I’ll long recall, perhaps especially for Ken’s remarks about his father’s life and service and faith. It’s too bad Carlos didn’t live to see us begin the family reunions again – we had the first one the very summer he died, in 1998 – but our cousins Carole, Jo, Ken and some of their children have been with us. (Al, their brother, a really fun guy to be around at a family gathering – and as close to a twin appearance-wise to the late Crockett Lamont as I’ve seen in the family – sadly passed away a few years ago, within a week or so of his mother, our Aunt Marguerite.)
I hope you’ll take a few minutes to look at the links provided, and to recall the fine man, Carlos McIntosh Henderson.
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