Family History Friday: Delsa McBride

After listening to several talks during general conference, I realized that I need to put my family history efforts much higher on my priority list. So here I am back to my family history Friday posts! I am super excited to get back to learning about my ancestors and excited to share with you all!

Note: I used as my main source the fantastic book compiled by Uncle Bob and Aunt Philis.  

Delsa McBride 

1910- 1996

Phil and Delsa McBride

Grandma Delsa was born in July 7, 1910 in Pima Arizona. The records that I found didn’t reveal much about her very early childhood, except to say that she was a beloved daughter of Clarence Delwin Davis and Mary Ethel Ferrin.

Mahala & Delwin on the left, Delsa & Cloyd on the right

School

“One afternoon a group of girls and boys and I ditched school and went up to the

canyon above Thatcher in the old car. The road got so narrow and steep that I said we could go no further and decided to go back down. There was no way to turn around, so

I backed down...very, very slowly. I was late getting home and when I told the folks where I had been they said another stunt like that and I couldn’t drive to school.”

Young Love

“About 1922, we moved across the road from the McBrides and I began to notice their son, Phil. He began to notice me too, but only because I kept pestering him. One day, as we met on the canal bridge (I ran to catch up with him) to get his attention, I grabbed his finely sharpened pencil. As he tried to take it from me, I jabbed it in his tummy. He carried that pencil point mark there all the rest of his life. The jab didn’t bother him as much as me grabbing the pencil, and between the two of us we (mostly me) broke it. The cost of the pencil was very important to him.”

Music

“I began to give piano lessons when I was 14. Paul Merrill wanted his son to learn the piano and although Paul was an outstanding pianist his son wouldn’t do anything for him. One day he asked me if I would teach him. I felt that I couldn’t but he said he knew I could, and so I tried. His son liked to learn from me and gradually others asked me to teach. I received 25 cents for each lesson. Each Sabbath morning I waited anxiously for the Sunday School Chorister to raise his baton and indicate that the congregation should stand. For the next few seconds he stood with baton held firmly about shoulder height. I stood, anxiously awaiting the signal to begin singing. I felt that he made eye contact with me often, just before his signal came to sing. As I grew older I realized he was doing just that. He was making sure I was aware of his importance as Chorister of the Sunday School and master of the baton.

One day after Sunday School as I stood by his side after I had helped him gather up the song books and pile them neatly in a cupboard he said, “Delsa, next Sunday you can lead one of the Sunday School songs if you would like to.” “But Papa, I’m not old enough and I don’t know how.”  He said with a twinkle in his eye and confidence in his voice, “I think you are. We will practice together every day this week.” With the humble tutoring of my father, who had made the decision and received permission to use me as his assistant chorister in the Sunday School. He began to tutor me in the arts of leading the congregation as they sang. A good father had literally taken to heart the admonition to teach his children.”