Day Trip To Paris

My Grandma Thomas grew up in the small town of Paris, Idaho, which is near Bear Lake.  When I was a kid, I loved telling people I was going to Paris.  It's less funny to me now, probably because I'd really love to go to France.  (And a million other places.  Someday.)  But last week my Dad and I went up to see the Paris Tabernacle while we were waiting for Lauren and Carly - and their drivers, Tay and Heather - to arrive at Bear Lake.

We took an informal tour from a church service missionary.  I tried to make it very clear from the get-go that we had been to the Tabernacle many times before and my Dad added that his Grandma's funeral was held in the building and he said the closing prayer.  I think that helped with the length of the tour.  You can't be too careful with these church service missionaries!

The highlight was that the organ (an original to the building, circa 1928) was unlocked and our tour guide didn't stop me from opening it right up and sitting myself down.  I stumbled through "Redeemer of Israel" and "Sweet Hour of Prayer" before I decided to take pity on everyone and turn the organ off.  If I had known they would let me play the organ there, I would have practiced before my trip, I promise.  I also would have brought my organ shoes.

This picture is a throw-back to when we were little kids and felt the need to make up clever poses for photos.  We have several pictures of "the cousins" standing on the Tabernacle steps with our hands on our hips.  (Clever, like I said.)  Lucky for you, I didn't try to recreate the super short sunsuit I seem to be wearing in a lot of those photos.

This is my Great-Grandma and Grandpa Price's house in Paris.  (Note to future self: it's near First West and First North.)  When my Dad's family would drive up to visit his Grandparents there, his Grandma would always tell them to honk at Ovid so that she could have the ice cream and cookies out and ready.  I'm willing to bet they always honked.   

We also made a stop at the Cemetery.  I love small town cemeteries where two or three family names (Price and Grandy for example) make up most of the plots.  This is especially true in communities settled by polygamists.  I'm just saying...  It was a neat way to spend the morning.