Dr. Kate

She shuffled across the red carpet in tenny runners, wearing a long black robe with red velvet stripes down the arms and an odd, tasseled hat on her head. It’s the stuff you might find in the costume box of her childhood, only this was real grown-up stuff with a hefty dose of pomp and circumstance.  She emerged from the whole ritual with a new name:

Katherine Helene Connors, Ph. D. 

This is what pomp looks like...

... and this must be circumstance.
I love how the Chancellor, who earned her doctorate in Finland,
 wears the traditional Finnish top hat and sword. 
All these Ph.D.'s look like they raided their costume boxes, don't they?

My girl and her Ma.

I’m trying to remember what it was I dreamed for my penultimate child when she was small, when I began to learn her personality and style. The dream, if there was one, must have been lost in the day-to-day shuffle of child number three followed swiftly by child number four. I guess was realizing, even as an inexperienced parent, that it wasn't my right to dream her dreams.

Our kiddos:
John, Sarah, Kate and Annie.

Kate was nearly always pleasant and accommodating, quiet until she found something funny, and full of love and devotion. I should have guessed, when she inevitably wore her cowboy boots on the wrong feet, that her path would be unusually winding. She’s a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of gal, willing to examine things as they come and not necessarily getting to know the end from the beginning. She might tell you it’s a curse. But it’s a blessing. Maybe a blurse. She does not get trapped in perimetric limitations. I see that as the ability to allow instinct and higher powers to co-mingle and lead her where she needs to go, whether she planned to go there or not. Kate has a whispery soul. She is not energized by outside forces. Frankly, they exhaust her. It would be easier for her if she had known exactly what she wanted to do… where she wanted to go… and when. Instead, she has spent a good portion of her life walking into the unknown. I suppose my dream for her is to find joy, wherever it is hidden away for her.

Today, Dave, Libby and I sat in the audience at Brock University in Canada when they announced her name. She paused in front of her PhD advisor, Dr. Jan Frijters and turned her back to him. He raised his arms over her head and placed a doctoral hood over her shoulders. I pondered the image of a student shifting from facing her mentor to turning outward as he placed a symbolic blessing on her head, sending her out into the world to make good all the trust and training. 

This was the culmination of many years in Kate’s life, which included two years in a PhD program at Binghamton University, when her advisor took a job outside of academia, and they closed the lab. That professor’s devoted cluster of PhD candidates were suddenly out of a program. Kate had to reapply for new programs. Thankfully, she was accepted into Dr. Fritjters’ program. Then two years into that the world shut down due to the Covid Pandemic. Two years later she could no longer muster the required focus on her current dissertation topic. Rather than quitting, she restructured to take a more wholehearted artistic approach. The journey involved considerable self-discovery and personal enlightenment, which included mighty struggles with matters of the heart. The journey was no less windy or risky that a trip up Farmington Canyon

Kate's dissertation has some of the most beautiful writing I've ever read.

She has emerged victorious! And vulnerable.

When any of us approach such consuming projects, there is often (in my experience) a rattling let down at the end… a place where we question the balance between cost and benefit. We mothers do that without knowing what we are doing when we get the baby blues, now better defined as postpartum depression. Those who have been caregiver for someone with dementia or other illnesses or disabilities get it when the dreaded time comes and the era of devotion is over. We have to first take a long nap, if possible, then set about redefining ourselves. I pray the prayer of all mothers that my child who is now a woman will have the patience, fortitude, faith and spiritual tenacity to get through the transition without too much damage to her sense of self.

A pillow on Kate's couch.

Whatever the future holds for Kate, no one can take from her the accomplishment of this remarkable feat. It’s been many human years in the making. Even more costly and rewarding in ways we don’t yet have the tools to measure. 

More valuable than her accomplishments, we celebrate the self-discovery. It matters more to us who she has become than what she has become. 

To the rest of the world, she is Dr. Kate Connors 

To us, she remains Kate McGate who stays up late! 

(She's pretty great!)

What a new Ph.D. and an old J.D. do the day after graduation.

SALSA

SALSA  - home canned (Cindy Gardner and Lynette Sessions)

 Single batch makes 7-8 pint jars [triple batch]

18-22 tomatoes (9 c crushed)  [60 tomatoes, 27 c crushed]

5 Anaheim peppers [15]

2 Jalapenos [6]

2 bell peppers [6]

1 red bell pepper [3]

2 large onions [6]

½ bunch parsley [1.5 bunches]

1/8 c non-iodized salt  [1/3 c]

¾ t garlic powder [2.5 t] 

1 tsp garlic salt

(I crush one large cluster fresh garlic and increase plain salt)

1 ½ c V8 juice [ 4.5 cups]

 

Finely chop all ingredients.  I remove most the seeds from hot peppers, all seeds from bell peppers.  Use plastic gloves when working with hot peppers.

 

Boil above ingred 20 minutes.

 

ADD:

2 T sugar [1/3 c]

1/3 c cider vinegar [1c]

1 t cumin [3 teaspoons]

 

Bring to boil again.

 

 Process in hot water bath 45 minutes)

½ bushel tomatoes makes 3 batches

 

Each fall I visit Day Farms UPick and pick a bushel or two of tomatoes, chile peppers, Jalapenos and bell peppers

God is good!

Romas, this year. Any kind works.

Before...

...after.

AN HONORABLE MAN

The photo on the wall of the Second District Courthouse.

I am married to an honorable man.

I realize how rare it is to be able to say that and mean it. After nearly five decades Dave Connors has surely proven himself. But when, in 2008, Governor Huntsman appointed him as a state court judge, the title Honorable became official. I joke, in lighthearted conversation, that I have to rise when he walks in the house and that his royal robes hang in his royal study. The first part of that is certainly not true. He is a remarkably humble man. But the second part is real. I do leave one of his long black judicial robes hanging in our study at home, where it had hung all through the Covid Pandemic. He held court “virtually” for many months from our home study. We carried the old American flag we had bought in an antique store in Plymouth Mass. from its usual place by our family room fireplace to the front of the bookshelves behind his desk. This became the backdrop to his virtual courtroom. What people who appeared before him at that time could not see on their screens was that each morning Dave had showered and dressed, with dress pants, shoes and socks, dress shirt and tie as he would any day he entered his real courtroom. No one else could see it under his black robes, but he could. This small thing that only he and I would know represents the level of integrity he has, the respect he holds for his office and the trust given him. 

Dave's virtual courtroom during the pandemic.

Last night, in Toronto, our daughter Kate and I accompanied Dave as he received a most fitting national award, bestowed on him by the American Bar Association. It was a lovely evening in a large room filled with keepers of the law… the folks we trust to apply the thing that sets us, in America, apart from much of the world. If there were any award given that would best represent who David is, this would be the one. It acknowledges the importance of civility, fairness, inclusion, mentorship and emotional generosity toward all mankind. 

His mother and dad would be so proud of him.

My mother would be so proud of him.

I am so proud of him.

Plus, I like him. A lot. 

(I would have probably worn sweatpants under judicial robes. Good thing I’m not a judge. I’ll be the Yang for his Yin.)

Dr. Connors, Judge Connors and Mrs. Connors
(Kate, Dave, me)

Here’s a press release about the award:

Retired Utah District Judge David Connors will receive the honorable William D Missouri Civility Award for his outstanding contributions to the profession during the ABA Annual Meeting in Toronto. The award will be presented August 7 at the Fairmont Royal York.

The honorable Wiliam D Missouri civility award is named for Judge Missouri, who worked tirelessly to promote civility and professionalism through the bar, the bench and the community across racial, ethnic and gender groups advocating for fairness and respect for all individuals. 

Appointed district court judge by Utah governor Jon M Huntsman Junior in October 2007, Connors began his service as a judge in January 2008 after more than 25 years of nationwide private practice Experience as a business lawyer and commercial litigator handling complex civil litigation. He retired as a judge in March 2023. While a judge he handled hundreds of mediations, arbitrations and trials, including judicial settlement conferences mediation conducted by a judge who is not the assigned judge on a case. In private practice, he was an early advocate for mediation and arbitration as efficient methods for settling high conflict disputes. In addition to his experience as a mediator, his ADR experience includes acting for more than 30 years as an arbitrator for the Utah State Bar, both before and during his time on the bench. He is now affiliated with the Utah based law firm Bennett Tueller Johnson & Deere. 

While on the Utah trial court bench, Connor served as a member of Utah’s Judicial Council, the governing body of Utah judiciary. He also served as presiding judge of Utah’s Second District Court, as chair of a statewide guardianship task force known as the Working Interdisciplinary Network of Guardianship Stakeholders, as a member of the Long-Range Curriculum Planning Committee for Utah judges, and as a member of the Utah State Bar’s, CLE Oversight Committee and its Free Arbitration Committee. In 2015 he completed a two-year term as president of the Northern Utah Chapter of the American Inns of Court. 

Connors also has served as a member of Utah’s Board of District Court Judges and served for more than 10 years as the board designated representative to the ABA Judicial Division. He now serves as a member of the Executive Committee of the ABA Judicial Division, National Conference of State Trial Judges, having recently completed a term as nationwide chair of that group. Connors also served as mayor of the city of Farmington, city councilman, and board member of the Wasatch Front Regional Council.

Token.

Judge Heather Welch, Dave, and Judge Toni Clarke

Judge Marion Perkins and her daughter.

Judge Jennifer Mabey and Dave (friends for many years)

Celebrating at Gio Rana's Really Really Nice Restaurant
(that's the real name)

Here's what Judge Toni Clarke said when introducing Dave for the award:

 

"There seems to be a deterioration of civility in the country these days, so we decided to honor the men and women who set an example of civility to others," said Judge Toni E. Clarke, former chair of the Judicial Division. "Judge Missouri was the epitome of civility and professionalism - in the courtroom and in his day-to-day dealings with colleagues, friends and the public.

I first met Judge Connors when he first started being really active with the Conference of State Court Trial Judges. What I learned fairly quickly was he was smart, he was very considerate, he would ask questions, he would make comments, but you could tell they came from someone who gave careful consideration about the situation, whatever it was, and that he was mindful that you can disagree on certain issues, you can have questions about certain issues, but you can be civil about it. You can have conversation and agree to disagree. It was always, and is still always a pleasure for me, even in conversations that have nothing to do with the law, to be able to speak with him on a regular basis. The award is given to a person who exemplifies the qualities of Judge Missouri of civility, courtesy and professionalism towards colleagues, litigants and the public. All of Judge Connors’ colleagues on the bench would agree Judge Connors is deserving of this award.”

CLYTIE ADAMS - STANDING IN THE LIGHT

There’s a seat in the audience of the Browning Center Auditorium at Weber State University that belongs to Clytie Adams. I guess she doesn’t really own it, but in my experience it’s the one where she always sits. I'm really only in the Browning Center when Clytie is. She sits right there, about a third of the way back, near the center and the aisle. Its far enough from the stage to see the whole story unfolding under the floodlights, but close enough for her to gracefully walk backstage, through the wings, and onto center stage to introduce the year’s recital, or to take a bow with the orchestra’s conductor after performances of The Nutcracker. She enters the stage, her shoulders planted over her hips, chin up and smiling, her silver hair shimmering in the spotlight. Her arms move gracefully and her speech is sweetly measured, never rushed.

She will remind the audience that this is an evening of delight and dignity. “We do not holler at the ballet, but you may clap with all your heart!” She will add some charming story about the children who will be dancing, and she will invite the audience to adore these dancers who have worked so dutifully to prepare performances for the evening. Even now, returning in my mind to last year’s recital, I can hear the lilt in her voice. It’s preserved in my memory and tucked under my heart.

I first met Clytie Adams decades ago, when my own children enrolled in her renowned School of Ballet in Kaysville, Utah. My contribution to my children’s gene pool includes the cell structure for a human form that could cut big blocks of ice out of the frozen Snake River and lift houses off their foundations to be moved to new locations. We are big folk, we Parrish’s. My husband David’s genetic portion includes all four of his grandparents being under 5 feet tall as fully grown adults. Our kids were not built to be dancers. Nonetheless, we knew the benefits of dance lessons and performances. They learned to own their bodies, to cooperate with others, to follow instruction, and overcome nerves. Dance gave them an appreciation for classical music, for rhythm and motion and grace. We put our kids in all sorts of lessons without any expectation of them becoming professionals in that field. Clytie's school taught them to stand gracefully in the light.

Clytie's daughter Jennifer at Nutcracker auditions.

Daughter Sarah onstage with the Little Prince

.

Daughter Leslie and a young student.

What I did not know we would get, when enrolling all four of our kids in Clytie Adams School of Ballet, were the nurture, love and tender life lessons they would receive under the tutelage of Clytie, her gifted daughters and all her teachers. Our oldest, John, still dances every year in their beautiful production of The Nutcracker. He started as a young party boy with the Ballet West Production, and now is a father in the same party scene for Clytie’s show. 

John is tucked in the back with his stage partner,
Jennifer Hart.

Besides what Clan Cytie has done for our kids, I have personally come to cherish every one of Clytie’s shows. Mid-June of every year I stand backstage with the dancers and their teachers, inhaling the magic of anticipation blended with nerves and raw youthful energy. For the last couple decades, I have been honored and entrusted to help write songs and perform them for her little dancers. I weave my way onto the apron of the stage, in front of Mike Montoya’s drum set, Mark Robinette’s keyboard and bass, and the grand piano with Kelly DeHaan at the keys. Various additional musicians of the highest caliber join us on stage. Creating music with them is beyond divine! My guitar and I know that space well.  I pace my years by the six-month portions between the week I get to do the Clytie Recital in June and the week of my Christmas Concerts in the chill of winter. 

Each year, following both the recital and my concerts, I receive a card in the mail with the graceful flowing handwriting I’ve come to know and love as that of Clytie Adams. She sweetly and graciously thanks me for my music. One year, after one of my Christmas concerts, she wrote:

“Does that beautiful fair-haired beauty with the liquid brown eyes belong to your John?”

She had seen my little granddaughter Sophie twirling between the rows as I sang. That same girl, now a college student,  wept when two days ago I told her that Clytie had made her way back up to Heaven. It was Clytie who had brought her to her toes after her young dancer ankles became strong enough. How I loved watching her dance as I sang from the side of the stage. I’ve had a closer-than-front-row seat to watch four of our granddaughters under Clytie’s floodlights.

Sophie Connors and her classmates.

Through Clytie I found the truest friends in her daughter Sarah and her musically gifted husband, Mark Robinette. My life is forever changed for good because of them. We've been through a lot together. Dave has performed marriages for their kids. Mark and Sarah marched beside us in my mothers funeral cortege. I've taught guitar to Sarah and her daughter Maura. Mark can make my songs sound better than they really are. We've crossed oceans together, and performed on worldwide stages together. They are family to us.

Mark and his daughter Clytie Sue at her wedding.

Donning the birthday hats at my sister Libby's house.

Walking to the cemetery
behind my mother's horse drawn hearse.

Two months ago, when I was at Mark’s home studio recording this year’s recital songs, I sat beside Clytie who was there visiting. She lifted her sparkling eyes up toward me and smiled, offering kindnesses that were typical of her. We sat side by side until she closed her eyes to rest. You know you have a friend when you can sit comfortably together in silence.

Just a few days ago, after Mark had told me Clytie had taken a turn for the worse, I texted Sarah:

That evening, I slung my guitar over my shoulder and entered the holy place of Clytie's lovely home. Clytie’s girls had placed her bed alongside the beautiful wall of windows in her bedroom. The light of the waning sun sifted over her form. Outside her window the earth was awakening. Newborn leaves uncurled in their innocent chartreus infancy. Flowers down on her back landing were blooming in the colors of early spring. The earth was breaking up, perhaps to welcome her in. Mark sat at her feet, and Sarah walked in behind me after teaching the class my own granddaughter Beth attends. I sat in the comfortable antique chair at the side of her bed, unzipped my guitar case and instinctively began plucking “I often go walking in meadows of clover,” a Mother’s Day tune we sang as kids. “Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you.”

Eventually Mark found his own guitar and added harmony to songs. Between the songs the silence carried a music of its own. Each of the daughters and her beloved niece sifted in and out until finally I too left, leaving her grieving girls to share that sacred space with their mom. 

The next morning Sarah sent word that her mother had joined the angels. I imagine it was a lovely entrance, graceful and joyful, with plenty of impassioned applause from the other side. I imagine her looking back on all of us, blowing us kisses and bending her newfound legs with a deep and graceful curtsy, her head lowered and then rising to her Lord. We all rejoice in the reunions sure to be taking place right now.

From this side of things, Clytie Adams, we promise not to holler, but we are clapping with all our hearts.

A young Clytie and students who are likely grandparents now.

2022 Utah Governors Mansion Artist Award Recipient.

Clytie Adams was honored with the 2022 Utah Governor's Mansion Artist Award by Governor Spencer Cox. She was recognized for her positive impact on the arts in her community, particularly through her work as the founder of the Clytie Adams School of Ballet. The award was presented at a ceremony held at the Governor's Mansion. You can watch a short PBS documentary on her HERE.

Read her obituary HERE.