A saint has passed

Kay Marie Smith was born on June 6, 1936 in the Salt Lake General Hospital, Salt Lake City, Utah to Max Clarence Smith, November 14,1912, Spanish Fork, Utah and O’rilla Olive Büehler, May 2, 1907, Midway, Utah. Marie passed at 88 years of age from a malignant glioblastoma (brain tumor) similar to her paternal grandmother. 

Marie was the oldest of three biological siblings including Max John (Jack) Smith, 86 and Annette O’rilla Smith Domm, June 2, 1941-Feb 16, 2010 and one half sibling, Susan Lynn Smith, who died at age 11 from bone cancer. As a child, she remembered going to Liberty Park to ride the Merry-Go-Round and having a close relationship to her sister, Annette, with whom she shared a bedroom. She lived in the Sugarhouse area in Salt Lake City and remembered on her 7th birthday, June 6, 1944, that “I heard lots of noise and I thought everyone was celebrating my birthday. Actually, everyone was celebrating the invasion of Normandy (WWII).”

Of course, Marie also carried with her the tragic memory of her mother’s

death when she was only seven years old. O’rilla was 34 years old and

died from a brain bleed after a fall down stairs in their home. Marie said,

“I do remember being in charge of everything. I was told, “You are the

oldest, you set the pattern for your siblings.” It was not a lot of fun as a

child. That is one reason why I wanted to provide fun times for my children.” Marie said that she did all the chores including sweep the floor, do the dishes, clean up, etc. “Every day I was expected to peel potatoes and have them ready in the pan on the stove by 4:30 PM when Dad came home.” Max, Marie’s father, remarried Florence Price,1908-1996.

Marie attended Hawthorne Elementary followed by William Stewart Junior High on the University of Utah campus and then East High School. She attended the University of Utah for two years followed by three years in the nursing program at St. Mark’s Hospital. During her schooling years she loved to hang out at the Snelgrove Ice Cream Shop

in Sugarhouse.

Marie’s dream was to be a concert violinist. The spring of her sophomore year she auditioned for the Utah Symphony and was not accepted. She recalls that later that spring she had a mandatory recital as part of her coursework. One had to play a memorized piece and she had

one that she knew well. However, due to a case of stage fright she did

not perform well and received a poor review in the Utah Chronicle. A friend of hers told her about an opportunity to interview for the nursing career at St. Mark’s. The interview went superb and she was granted a nursing school position. Her nursing career, a degree from Westminster College, lasted until she was 83 years old with a few decades pause dedicated to raising her children. 

Marie had seen Dennis in the halls at East High School. She noticed

him as a “very tall guy, with a briefcase headed to the Physics Lab”. They

met at Lambda Delta Sigma at the University of Utah, a church social

group at the university. The theme of the event was “The Jungle,” and he was elected “King of the Beasts.” He was a senior leaving to go on a mission but delayed because of the Korean War. He was not drafted because he was too tall, 6’8’’. He asked for Marie’s phone number, and they exchanged some letters throughout the mission. After he came home, he called the family and her Dad took a message and handed her a small note saying that Dennis Smith called to see if she was still around. Later, in June 1957, he came by the house and had a diamond ring in his pocket. He asked her to come out to the car, and he then asked her to marry him in the Salt Lake temple. This they did on January 9th, 1959, surrounded by about 15 people of the immediate family.

The next several decades include but were not limited to raising five

children, changing 45k-75k diapers, attending approximately 962 combined sporting and musical events, teaching seminary for 20+ years, leading multiple young women church camps (a fulfillment of her patriarchal blessing) and constantly serving her neighbors. Marie was known throughout any neighborhood in which she lived, on both the east and west coast, as the kind nurse down the road who was available for any and all emergencies. Even the local paramedics knew her name.  She was a true gospel scholar often called “Grandma Moses” by her seminary class student’s. She became a scholar in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints especially in the topics of church history, Joseph Smith and Jesus Christ. Other hobbies included journaling, story telling, playing the violin, crocheting, quilting, playing the guitar, painting rocks or old wood. Her favorite gift to give was a Book of Mormon highlighted by her based on all things she had learned through the years of her own personal study.

When recently asked what advice she would give her grandchildren and great grandchildren it was to “Love the Lord with all your heart! [and] that if you shoot a free throw (in basketball) and it doesn’t go in, get the rebound and shoot it again and make it.” Sound advice from an expert in resilience who overcame many trials and more often than not, rose to the needs placed before her.

She leaves behind her loving family: husband, Clark Dennis Smith of

Orem, UT; son, Clark Dennis Smith, Jr. of Alpine, UT; daughter, Shauna Marie Burt (Brandon) of Alpine, UT; son, Michael John Smith (Debbie) of Alpine, UT; son, Mark Edward Smith (Tami) of

Chesapeake Bay, Virginia; son, Steven Alan Smith (Julia) of Meridian, ID, 29 grandchildren and 16 great grandchildren and brother Max John

Smith (Joan) of Salt Lake City, UT.

The funeral will be held on Tuesday, May 20th at the The Church of Jesus Christ

chapel located at 155 W 1600 South, Orem, UT 84058. There will be a viewing

at 9 am followed by the funeral at 11 am and family luncheon at 12:30pm all at

the same location. Internment will take place at Wasatch Lawn Memorial Park

and Mortuary, 3401 S Highland Dr. Millcreek, UT, 84106 in Salt Lake City at3 pm. All are invited to each event that day except the luncheon is reserved for

family.

Many of the details found in this obituary were compiled from Kevin Stocks interview with Marie, 2025

Older but Faithful

When my father was young, his family took a trip to Yellowstone National Park but they left him behind.  When I was young, my father would say, someday I would like to see Yellowstone since I never saw it as a child.  A month ago we made it happen.  We traveled to West Yellowstone together and spent 4 nights and four days together in a cabin in Big Sky, Montana.  We visited Yellowstone, saw bison, bald eagles, Old Faithful, elk and simply had an enjoyable time in this magnificent part of the world.  Here are some photos to prove we were there.

Mother is such an amazing story teller.  She loves to talk with you.  She is here with H talking to him about the wild things one can find in nature.  Prior to this moment she was surrounded by our children and their cousins, asking them questions and engaging them in delightful conversations.  She has a way of making you feel like there is no one more important than you when you are around her.

Dad, sporting a new cane.  He was such a trooper.  In spite of how slow he may now walk, he trekked with us into the depths of forest.  I was most impressed with his hike to the hot springs.  Each of us took a turn as his companion so he could perceived the differences in the terrain.  You see he suffers from a neuropathy of unclear origin that prevents him from feeling differences in the ground below.  On top of that he wears a shoe that has added height to compensate for a shorter leg compared to other.  What a treacherous combination but he pressed on.

 Dad always brings toys for the young ones.  Boon Doggle is the most popular item but here he is also sporting his famous balloon animals.  The children love this about him.

 Mother and one of her grandchildren.  Again, one of those moments captured when she is engaging these young ones in conversation, making them feel like they are number one.  Every time I would walk out the door as a child my mother would ask, "Who are you?"  "A Smith", I would reply.  This was her way of reminding me that I was not a quitter and that I was a go getter.

What a handsome couple.  Mom and Dad thank you for making the Yellowstone trip so special!  You are truly a remarkable couple.  You brighten the days of so many.  We always look forward to seeing you.  We love you and cannot wait until the next time we meet.

Turning 43

Turning 43

Mom in keeping true to the purpose of this blog, I dedicate this entry to you on your birthday.  June 6^th is a special day for me also.  It is Blast Day.  School in Southern California would get out in June.  I had friends who lived in Utah and they would be out of school in May.  It always bugged me that school went longer in California.  It never dawned on me that it was the same duration with a later start into September.  Mom likely felt the itch of summer approaching as well and so she would plan a Blast Day.  On her Birthday, she would write a note to the school that I would carry in my backpack and hand deliver to office.  It would read, “To whom is may concern, my son needs to be excused from school tomorrow, June 6^th, for family business.”  I would hand over the note and then think about June 6^th all the remaining time of June 5^th. 

A Blast day was when my mother took to me to some extravagant place for a fun day, just her and me.  We had plenty of choices in So Cal but I would always choose the Magic Kingdom.  I have written about this before in her blog but I cannot help but reminisce each time the 6^th of June comes.  We started early and would drive through Whittier to Beach Blvd.  We would take Beach to the 5 freeway and head South.  Then we would search with great anticipation, for the Mater Horn, the tallest ride in the Magic Kingdom.  If I spotted it she would say I would win.  I always won.  My favorite rides with her included the Tiki Room, Big Thunder, Bear Country Jamboree, Mater Horn and of course, Pirates of the Caribbean.  She loved them as well.  Without fail, after Pirates we would get a cinnamon fritter and share it together.  We would leave the park tired and then make the slow traffic filled way back to our home.  I cherished these moments.  She actually made Blast days often even if we would go to Del Taco for a few tacos and a shake and eat under our favorite tree on a minimum day.  It was the 6^th that meant most to me because out of all the places we could go my mother would choose a place that made me happy on her birthday.  I imagine she was happy when she saw her children having a good time.

Mom, you are absolutely one of the most amazing people I have ever known.  I am blessed for eternity to be related to you and to have been raised by you.  You amaze me that you are still working as hard as you do.  Your dedication to the gospel and love for the Savior and His prophets will always impress me.  I hope you have a wonderful birthday!  You deserve it and have a Blast!

Stevie

Musical

Yesterday I called my mother to wish her a happy mother's day.  I am so fortunate to have the mother I do.  As we spoke we broke out in song singing one of our favorite's "Somewhere"  from West Side Story.  Every time I hear that song I think of mother.  I believe she would sing to me to bring me comfort as a child but then it became a familiar favorite.  My mother knows her music.  She recently had surgery, which I believe is the first time she has ever needed anesthesia in her life.  Before she was asleep, the surgery team asked her request for music.  She said Beethoven would be nice.  They started the procedure and she was moving slightly so the physician asked for more anesthetic at which time she said out loud but with her eyes closed, "I said Beethoven, not Mozart."  then fell asleep.  The surgeon had to know and at the end of the procedure he checked and sure enough it was a Mozart CD playing during the procedure.

I am grateful for mother and her talent for music.  She certainly instilled in me a desire to always have music a part of my life.

More on mother

I have included a few photos that remind me of my mother.  On Sunday afternoon's, essentially being a single child, I would reach boredom fairly quick.  My parents would come to the rescue but among so many other responsibilities my mother would get down on the floor and build a scene.  We would get down these toys that we had for years.  We stored them on a would board with pegs.  There were 88 pegs and 87 toys each with a hole in the bottom.  We lost one at some point and ever since then we never lost another.  My mom made sure of this.  Anyway, the scene would always involved a plot.  Mom was often the bad guy.  She would always put it on fire too.  She would take a flash light and colored cellophane, turn the light on and wall-a!  All of the sudden the city was on fire and the game came to life.  Ironically, in my profession, I work a lot with the development of children and I have heard of a new therapy called "Floor Therapy"  Someone took what my mom did spontaneously and has identified it as therapy and probably has earned some extra cash with a book explaining floor therapy.  The photo I include that reminds me of this is the top photo showing a train scene built for my boys.  My favorite is how the geotrax track travels through the Batman cave.  Mom the tradition lives on.

The other photos I include because they remind me of her artistic side.  My mother is a fabulous artist.  I have in my office a picture of a steam engine painted on drift wood.  I love that painting.  It brings back so many memories.  She always wanted to obtain drift wood so she could paint.  She painted an old large milk jug yellow and it had white flowers on the side and top.  It was beautiful.  She painted rocks and sometimes would glue eyes on them.  She painted all of our porcelain Christmas decorations.  She would sit down with me each holiday and give me a chance to paint them as well.  She maintained this large coloring book of animals like deer and stories like the Christmas Carol.  I did not get to touch these but I loved seeing her pull them out.  I have married an artist as well and I think I was in part attracted to her because my upbringing and my mothers interest in the humanities.  She played classical music in the home.  She was wonderful on the violin and she often shared her talents teaching friends in the community at no charge.  The photos are of a small part of our house my wife has used colored glass to decorate and then two photos of Shoshone Falls, Twin Falls Idaho.

It's not about me

I recently attended a medical conference in Norther Idaho.  Those that organized the conference invited a guest speaker to come.  The speaker was Chad Hymas.  He was a remarkable speaker and had the entire audience, a room full of physicians and their spouses, in the palm of his hand.  At one point, he asked two of the physicians to step up to volunteer.  They were both leaders in their field.  He asked each of them to get a bottle of water and to take a drink.  He then asked them to do the same but without using their hands. Of course they got down on their knees and twisted off the cap with their teeth, spit out the cap and had a drink.  It was hard to watch them go through the process.  After they were done we were all chastised by the speaker.  You see, he is a quadriplegic and his only rule was to get drink without using his hands.  He did not say no one else in the audience could not help them but when none of us got up he chastised us for not giving them a drink.  His theme of his talk was that it is not about me, it is about them.  Putting others needs before ours.  It was an awesome talk.  I loved it.  It reminded me of someone, my mother.

My mother, for whom this blog is dedicated, has always put others needs in front of her own.  After successfully obtaining her nursing degree, she spent 30-40 years raising her children out of the home.  She was always there at the crossroads for each of us.  She has, however, used her nursing skills to help so many people throughout the various neighborhoods in which she lived.  She has helped them physically when they have been ill, spiritually when down and mentally when discouraged.  I can remember going with her on one of these trips.  Our neighbors grandmother was very ill and she called us during the middle of the day.  She could barely put her words together.  My mom dropped all she was  doing and jumped in the car.  I went with her having just finished my first year of medical school.  We found this woman completely delirious with a very high blood pressure.  My mom called 911 and paramedics arrived quickly.  She gave them a report and they took over.  When we were leaving one of them stopped my mom and asked, "Excuse me, but haven't I seen you before?"  My mother denied not recognizing the man.  But then he remembered and just one week prior she had responded before them to another call within the neighborhood prior the paramedics.  I guess people had Mom dialed in speed dial in the number one spot followed by 911 in the number 2 spot.

My mom has always been willing to talk to you and to cheer you up.  She knows those around her so well that she can always sustain an interesting conversation with them and make them laugh.  She has the right thing to say to connect with others especially the youth.  She helped so many youth stay strong the gospel during their vulnerable adolescent years.  Mom was there for them and put their needs in front of her own.  Another story that stands out is when she would teach early morning seminary she would have to arrive at the building at 6 am to open it up.  On someone's birthday, she would buy everyone doughnuts and have to leave even earlier to pick up the doughnuts.  Some of the students had particular flavors they liked and she would special order these.  One particular morning, my mom approached the building, still dark and a drunk man approached her with a knife.  He threatened her.  My mom was terrified but she also recognized him from the neighborhood.  She called him by name and told him to turn over the knife and go home.  The man did just that mainly because he was stunned that she knew him and then she quickly locked herself in the building and called the authorities so that the students who would be coming would be safe.  She then proceeded to teach that morning as if nothing had ever happened.  My mother was so brave and once again putting the needs even when her life was threatened, before her own needs.

Mom thank you for that great example all my life including now.  You continue to put others before yourself and we all benefit.  Love Borks

Mom is turning 42!

A few months ago, I started a blog on behalf of my father and today as we approach June 6th, I dedicate this site to my mother.  Okay she is not really turning 42, but that's what she always used to say.  For some reason, mom did not age from around the time she gave birth to me to now.  She had me fooled.

Why this particular background for the blog?  If you know my mother, you know that every year she has completed a NCAA bracket.  She can talk basketball with the best of them and is clearly a march madness mother.  I felt the bracket background along with the basketball was fitting, at least initially.  Not to mention, that my mom has attended approximately 931 basketball games between myself and my siblings high school and college careers.  This does not count for MJ's NBA career nor does it account for all the football, soccer, baseball, volleyball games and violin recitals.  All in all I suspect the number is more between 5-10 thousand sporting and musical events.  Mom has always been our biggest fan.  She would express her approval with a fierce flexion at the elbow, pulled in abruptly to her side with a closed fist.  When she would do this action and shout "YES!"  We knew we met her approval.  In recitals, it was different, the congratulations would always come first with a smile, grab of both sides of the head and a big kiss.  Mom earned the right to be the biggest fan.  She was there through the training.  She was there half-way between "Hell's week"  football practices with a carb filled lunch and large Gatorade.  She was there to nurse the injuries.  She was there to encourage the downtrodden.  She was there pushing the piano over and over again.  She was there in all of our times of need.

Why the title?  Mama Jefe was her real name.  Now, some might know that the correct gender assignment of this spanish name is Mama Jefa.  But she referred to herself as Mama Jefe and it stuck.  She is the biological mother of 5 children.  However, there are countless people who refer to her as their mother or second mother.  My friends growing up would come to the house many times just to talk basketball or life with Mom.  I would come home from school and sometimes find classmates visiting with mom.  They loved her.  She knew how to talk to teenagers.  She knew there interests, families and difficulties.  She comforted them and educated them.  If I were to play ball with friends they always elected to come to my house to play not because I lived on a cul de sac where the ball would not get lost or threatened by traffic, nor because the hoop could lower and raise in a time when such a hoop was scarce.  They came because Mama Jefe would make them fresh pizza and drinks and take care of them as if they were her own.  She would greet them with a hug, call them by name and tell them things like, "Hey, Dylan, that was great shootin' last night" or "Lydell, nice game!"  My friends loved that and loved her.  She was also Mama Jefe because I never wanted to displease her.  She was the boss of the house and because of who she was and the righteous, respected life she lived we wanted to do what she said.

Why the blog?  People have got to know this woman.  I have to share with the world how amazing she is.  The world needs to know the life that she has lived.  I hope it is not only perspective that is shared but many because I know that mine is not the only life she has touched.  I will take this opportunity to share a few such experiences.  As I mentioned above, my mom's birthday is June 6th.  I have a confession to make regarding my ability to remember her birthday.  I know I should remember it because it belongs to her but I actually remember it because she made me feel growing up that it belonged to me. On June 6th, just about every year, we would have a blast day.  I had the privilege of having her to myself as there was an almost 10 year gap between me and my other four siblings, so it is possible they did not experience this day like I did, but I don't really care.  A blast day consisted of getting out of school for "Important Family Business" and going to Disneyland just me and her.  We would hop in the car, drive down near the elementary school and my mom would ask me to duck as we drove by.  As we neared the amusement park, she would have me search for the Matterhorn Mountain.  In the park the day would start off by riding Thunder Mountain over and over and over again.  Then we would get an Apple Fritter over by the New Orleans Train Depot, ride Pirate's of the Caribbean and then Thunder Mountain over and over again.  This would be followed by running in and out of the caves at Tom Sawyer island and then Thunder Mountain again.  We would end the day with an ice cream on Main Street and walk out hand in hand having made another sweet memory.  I don't know the year, I finally realized, I did not have two birthday's.  My mom always made me a priority.  She sacrificed so much in her life to be available to assist me in my interests.  She could have easily pursued a career in nursing and we probably could have enjoyed a few extra dollars but she chose to be at the crossroads of my life and I owe her so much for that.

Mom, happy birthday.  I plan on writing my heart out to help you realize what an amazing person you are the grand life you have lived.  Thank you and happy birthday with love, Borks