Way back in 1948, my dad, who was the president of the Juneau, Alaska, Kiwanis Club, was selected to attend the organization’s national convention that was to be held in Los Angeles, California. I think it was as a result of that trip and what followed that brought the McClellan family from the damp, coastal shores of southeastern Alaska, to the semi-arid valleys of central Utah.

Dad, before his return home, took a side trip to the town where he was born, Payson, Utah; a town of around 3,000 folks, and many of his relatives were still there as was his best school friend, Vivian Butler (a male Vivian). “Viv” was an architect, and he and dad met up and soon they were discussing a potential move of our family to Payson.

Within a year, Dad sold his successful painting and decorating business

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