My Great-Grandfather died doing temple and family history work. John was the oldest son of 11 kids whose father died at age 51 when he was only 19 years old. During his life John always felt a strong need to care for and be with family.
In the spring of 1983 his family including my grandma and her siblings helped type up and distribute copies of their ancestor Jens Christian Neilsen’s diary. He was the first convert in that family line being baptized in 1852.
On April 13th my great grandparents, Alice and John Cannon, left on a road trip to personally give copies of this family treasure to relatives in southern Utah and to take family names to the St. George temple. Before leaving John left a note with his son explaining that they were going to “visit relatives living and passed away.”
The next day they decided to visit the Pine Valley Cemeteries looking for ancestor’s graves on their way between Cedar City and St. George. On Thursday their car got stuck in the wet spring mud of 1983, this was the same day that the famous mudslide in Spanish fork canyon engulfed the town of Thistle Utah. They left their car and began walking to where they perceived there was help. They walked all night and into the next day before finding shelter in the cleft of some rocks. Fatigue from 7 miles on two artificial hips allowed them to sleep there Friday night. Saturday John discovered a ranch house and returned to tell Alice. He told her about the house but said he was unable to take her there as his legs wouldn’t work anymore. He told her of his dream where he had been told this was the place he was to die. They stayed in the rocks all day Sunday, they chatted in the cleft of the rock with sleep coming in the early morning hours. At dawn Monday, my great-grandpa was gone. Alone now, great grandmother searched for the ranch house following the road and power lines through a snow covered field. At 4 foot 11 inches she struggled for each step for over 9 hours to traverse the 1/2 mile to the ranch house. Late Monday afternoon Alice found the ranch house that John had told her about and broke a window and climbed inside. She ravenously ate a jar of jam she found left in the refrigerator, wrote a note telling whoever found her to notify her children, who she named with phone numbers, and then exhausted, lay down to sleep.
During her 3 days alone in the cabin she melted snow for drinking water, and wished she could die, but as she said, “No one would take me.” The search for them went on for days by plane and car when they had not returned from their trip. The Sheriff’s Deputy who found her wept when he entered the cabin and saw her sitting in a chair alive. She was a survivor who lost her mother at age 6, survived both Scarlet Fever and Diphtheria before suffering a ruptured appendix, as a teenager she contracted the deadly strain of influenza during the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918. As a young mother she needed a blood transfusion and was given unmatched blood that should have killed her.
She would later say how she always wanted to die together, but she just couldn’t seem to, she was driven to live, her mission not yet complete. She lived another 13 years a widow after having a surgery to remove her left leg below the knee and most of her right foot, both from frostbite. I was 18 months old when this event took place and I was blessed to know and love this wonderful woman for 14 years. I’ll never forget having her over for family night. We sang “do as I’m doing” and as we danced around the room her leg fell off. Without missing a beat she looked at us and said “I bet you can’t “do” that!” Her legacy of joy, faith and family is part of who I am.
Many of us have heard the call of our ancestors turning our hearts to our fathers. Did John know that on this trip he really would visit both the “living and the dead?” He literally gave his life serving his family on both sides of the veil and taught his posterity the importance of family and redeeming the dead.