As we begin a new adventure, it makes sense to explain how it all started. In order to do that I
must go back in time to the first memory of where it all began. In the first grade of grade school, I
had been out in the playgrounds and had gotten into a fight with another of my classmates. David
Jolley had been a friend but he pushed me and we began a scuffle that was ended by the teacher
picking David by the collar and telling us it was over to come into the classroom. When we got
into the classroom the teacher got everyone of the students to take their seats and she had David
behind her at the blackboard. She said now as an example of how we as students should act I want
you Verl to finish this and as she said that David stepped out from behind her and when he did I
hit him and he went back against the black board and his head hit the bottom of the black board
where the erasers and chalk was setting. His head flopped and he went down that to the floor. He
was out cold and lay there, the teacher was dumbfounded. She thought that I was going to shake
his hand. She said I was to finish it so I did but not how she had expected me to. I was immediately
taken to the principal’s office for fighting. He said you was fighting in the classroom what have
you got to say for yourself. Well, I explained if that was a fight he didn’t hold much of his end of
it.
From that I thought that I was tough and wanted to feel the excitement more and talking with those
at the time I found they had a gym in Provo (I was in Springville Utah) that would train you to
fight so I started to thumb to Provo. In those days you stood beside the highway and put your
thumb out and someone would pick you up so that’s what I did. Third grade was kind of young at
the time but they took me into the gym and appointed me a trainer that would advance me to
fighting in the ring. For those of you that do not know a ring is square on a plat form about four
feet off the floor and has a railing around it that has three ropes tied between four posts but the
term was derived from the years before when fighters would be in a crowd and that was a ring of
spectators so the term ring stayed with the sport. So, my training began at an early age and I
thumbed to Provo every night after school and begin my training. That was the beginning of many
years of sparing (fighting with another) and in order to do that it was necessary to learn to hit the
big bag and speed bags. Shadow boxing became a daily exercise and that was just practicing
stance, foot work and imagination that you was facing an opponent. I did this with vigor and it
became my daily work out for years.
Now we must step along in the ways of a young boy who at the time grew to high school and I had
meet a woman of my desires. Sheila was introduced to me by Ray Mason who was known as
Pewee. One day after bragging he had meet the woman of his dreams, named Connie and he was
dating her. He would not speak with out telling us all about this wonderful woman. Well Connie
had a sister named Sheila that he wanted me to meet. So, one day he brings Shiela in his car which
was about a 1954 Ford and I climbed into the back of the car and he introduced this woman to me.
She was a beautiful woman and as we began to talk the conversation went sideways. We clashed
immediately and argued from the start. That should have been the end as I had climbed out and
told him don’t bother bringing her around me anymore I can find someone in the ring to fight with
I don’t need a stubborn woman to face. So, I avoided both Connie and Sheila for a long time but
Sheila had been stricken with a man who did not bow to her so she wanted Pewee to bring me with
them when ever he could and those decisions are still a part of my memories. But the fact we did
not get along was over road with the beauty of this gal. So, I was enticed into going for another
ride and that lead to another and another till I was like a young stud horse that was not halter
broken. I wanted to be with her but was not willing for another man to be with her I didn’t want
her but didn’t want anyone else to go with her either.
One day I found that Steven Tippton was spending much effort to be with her and when I learned
this I got pissed and one day they said he was down at the Dairy Queen. So, I went into the café
and he was setting at a table eating a banana split and I just walked up and pushed his head down
into the ice cream. When he looked up I told him to get up and do something about it and he looked
into a man ready to rip him apart and ask what the problem was and I told him Shiela was my
woman and if he wanted to go with her he had better stand up and prove he was man enough to
take her away from me. He never stood and he said he would avoid her from now on. That ended
right quickly so I went about my own business and never had to hear from him about that again.
I continued my time at the Provo Boxing Club and Shiela moved to Salt Lake City and I had
previously moved to Heber City but was working in Heber eight hours a day and then at night
would drive to Springville to see Shiela and when she moved to Salt Lake City I began to drive
there. Working eight hours a day and driving an hour each way then spending time with her and
driving back home and again the next day working. I went to see her one day and found she had
gone out with another fellow and was told he was a very tall man and that I should be careful. I
got a step stool and put on the porch preparing to jump onto the stool whereby I would be taller to
get up to him and be at his level to hit him. Someone told him I was not intimidated but opposite
I was preparing to rip him apart. My reputation as a fighter had preceded me and he never again
ask her out and that cemented my future with her. So here I was in high school and wanted to get
married it turned out that I took a paper signed by my mother: Please excuse Verl from school
today as he is getting married. That was in 1961 and we had five daughters and we were doing as
most young people living together raising a family. We lived in Heber City for years before I
finished vocational school in Provo and got a job in Lake Taho Nevada. Later, moving back to
Heber she began to drink and go to the bars while I worked. That lead to a divorce and that brings
to how this hole thing comes together. Bitter as a woman can be she didn’t want the divorce and
spent her time telling the children how bad a man their father was. She did all possible to teach the
children what a bad father they had. Her life had changed to drugs and became an alcoholic. She
died at a young age and the girls never allowed me the chance to grow close so we were in different
worlds so to speak.
I was awarded the children from the court because of her chasing and not attending proper care of
the children so for a time Friday nights were the kids and I would take them to the move theater
and then pick them up after. Saturdays was mine to go out dancing or whatever but Fridays were
theirs. One night I went to pick up the girls and the twins (youngest were identical twin girls). I
went to the police and drove all over town trying to find them but without finding them. Later I
found that Sheila was living in Portland Oregon and had convinced the kids that if they created
enough trouble they could join her and she would get more money from the state of Oregon for
having the children. On Saturday morning the police called me and told me the children who were
twelve years old at the time were downtown in car with teenage boys. I drove down and found
them and I opened the door of one of the cars and drug Shauna out of the car and put her on the
ground and proceed to spank her as a lesson to her. When I finished with her I went to the next car
and got ahold of Shelly and was bringing her out of the car when four or five of these young boys
decided they would stop me. I had Shelly on the ground with my arm holding her and raised up as
they approached me. With fire in my eyes, I told them bring it on all of you together or one at a
time I could care less if you boys think I am scared you had better pack a lunch because I was
prepared to whip all or part make up your mind right fast because I have a child that needed
attention. Those boys decided they were not ready to face me and got into their cars and left. I
took the girls home and had just gotten them in the house when a man from family services showed
up and he said the only reason I was not in jail was because the lady officer that had called me had
refused to come and arrest me she had told them that Verl had done as any father should have done
and corrected them and she would quit the police force before she would arrest me. I ask him what
he expected to happen now. He said I was to go to court and prove to the city that I was a fit father
and why I should not be in jail. I said I don’t have to prove to you are to anyone else in this world
why I corrected my young daughters from running around nights with older boys. I told him go
get help because him and ten more would be needed to finish this. I asked him what the girls
wanted. He told me they wanted to go to Oregon with their mother. I went into the house and asked
the girls, and they all told me they wanted to go to Oregon. The girls seemed excited but a little
nervous about the journey ahead. I told them to pack their bags, and I would take them to the bus
station. After helping them get ready, I drove them there, said my goodbyes, and watched as they
left.
After the move, I lost contact with my daughters—Kim, Kay, Kathy, and the twins Shauna, a
Shelly—which created a significant emptiness in my life. The house was quieter, the routines
emptier, and I found myself reflecting on the winding path that had led us to part ways. As I
continued to run my construction company, the memories of my homeland surfaced more and more
often, carrying with them the weight of the choices and circumstances that had pushed me to seek
a new beginning in a foreign country. The decision to leave was not born of impulse, but of
experiences that shaped me—a tapestry woven from hardship, hope, and the pursuit of a life
unknown.
This explains how we, as rational humans, try to make sense of the world. However, if you continue
to study the situation, you may find that another explanation must be considered. That, my readers,
is what this article is about. I can explain the things people want to hear, but I can only make sense
of it all if I share what is real.
I do not write as a scholar, because I have no academic background. Instead, I speak from the
experiences and feelings that life and faith have given me. My perspective is shaped by moments
of hardship and hope, by lessons learned through mistakes, and by the resilience required to move
forward. The reality I describe comes from the heart—my own struggles, triumphs, and the
constant search for meaning in a world that often defies easy answers. I believe that sharing these
authentic experiences is the best way to help others understand not just my story, but the broader
truths that connect us all.
A Messenger,
Verl K.
