DAY 4 Revisiting our childhoods in Pittsburgh. Sunday Sept. 13, 2026:

The 3 Little Girls. 
I am apparently pulling my shorts as if they were a princess dress.

I eventually got the dress.
Straddled by my four sisters at my
wedding reception in the Pleasant Hills Chapel.

Sunday morning, we rose and put on our Sunday clothes, the ones that make us feel like the day is set apart. Driving the familiar path up Old Clairton Road we arrived for 10 o’clock church at the Pleasant Hills Ward. We were actually early...unlike the many years we waddled in behind our mother on what was known as "Hansen Standard Time". That was an ironic twist on "Mormon Standard Time", which was generally late but less late than the Hansens. Ann Marie had brought some of her homemade bread, so we went early enough to give it to the priests to use for the Sacrament. A.M. makes what we call 'Bread for Jesus" every week for the Sacrament in our home ward here in Utah. I thought it would be sweet to use it in the chapel of her childhood. And so it was.

Serving my sister Ann Marie's Bread for Jesus.
I know, according to the handbook I should not have snapped this photo.
Lord, forgive me, I want to preserve how my sister did this kind of thing.

The chapel was surprisingly full. While faith seems to be dwindling in Zion, it is alive and well back east. My sisters and I were hurled back in time to our earliest years. 

That chapel had been the one constant edifice that saw us through all our years in Pittsburgh. This is where all of us were baptized, including Dave. My sisters and I sang in Sacrament meeting when Dave gave his mission homecoming talk. Exactly one year later we were married, and we held our wedding reception in that cultural hall. This is where our two oldest children were blessed. This is where I found my voice as a singer, with a loving and receptive "audience" in the pews.

It feels old and weary now. So little has changed. Its vintage blonde wooden pews, unaltered walls and ceilings and weathered hallways have gently held so many memories for us. Though most of the people were unfamiliar, there were enough we knew to make it feel magical. Patti and Tim Campbell. Joy Wilkinson. Elaine Steffenhauer, among others. We imagined the sounds and shapes of people who molded us as children of faith. I remember our first Branch President, Pres. Deutsch, whose wife Genevieve made be best cabbage rolls. That, and other glorious ethnic food, infused its divine aroma into the hallways at branch dinners and the yearly JC Penney Inventory. We all worked every day and into the night for a couple weeks reviewing inventory cards for Penney Corp. Bless Johnny Voelkel for gettiing us that gig. That's how we earned enough money to build the addition onto our little church house. Those two weeks are precious in our memories. Crock pots and electric roasters simmered away in the library. We had no kitchen then. Eventually we took a break to eat, then back to work. Our school homework suffered, but the lessons of unity and laughter and solidarity in purpose changed me more than any math equation ever has.

Walking the halls and classrooms after the meetings I felt eight years old... then twelve...then 16. I saw in my mind's eye all the ghosts of our spiritual past. June Voelkel leading the choir, Barbara Perry at the piano, and former Bishops Beus, Gardner, Wood, and Stuart standing at the pulpit. This is where adolescent crushes, and the rush of spiritual witness had sprung, taken root and welled up inside me. This is holy ground, and though I was not born here, I was surely re-born in that little old church on Old Clairton Road.

"Fount of Every Blessing"
The baptismal font where all four of us were baptized.
Hasn't changed a bit. And we are all still believers.

After Dave graduated from Law School and a Federal Clerkship in New York, we moved back to Pittsburgh and attended this Ward. This is on the front lawn of the church.
Johnny is holding his sister Sarah on her blessing day. That's his cousin Clayton sitting beside them.

Even the drinking fountain is the same.

We three little girls gave multiple 2 1/2 minute talks at this little pulpit in the Primary room.

We know these walls, these floors and halls.

After church we drove out to the site of TJ High School as we knew it. They had torn down the old school last year. The new school, about a mile up the street, is jaw-droppingly beautiful.  Go Jaguars!

We drove back to the house, dropped off Libby and Kate cuz Lib wasn’t feeling well, then AM,  Dave and I drove to Patti and Tim’s house for a chipped ham sandwich lunch. Joy was there as well, and we enjoyed a lovely afternoon visit for a few hours. There are no friends like old friends, the kind you can point to something on the table and they will pass it without saying a word.

Me, Patti, Joy and Ann Marie at Patti's house in Bethel Park.

Desperately missing our Sunday naps, we made it back to the house and flopped on our beds for a bit. The church carrilon around the corner chimed at 6 pm for a good 15 minutes, marking the time, followed by a series of sweet hymns. They ended with Dave's mother's favorite piano piece, Clair De Lune. 

We soon decided, since there really isn’t a comfy place to sit together at this house, we would go to a movie and sit in their recliners. Up at the AMC Theatres by South Hills Village we gobbled popcorn and Coke Slurpees and watched a movie called The Runner. It was a good way to spend the evening. 

Back at the house we sliced fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and boiled fresh corn from Trax Farms for a late night dinner. Ahh, the beauty of a late summer harvest from beloved old Trax Farm.